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To Edith, galloping mournful through the chatter of the forest industries which outskirted the citadel, the cold silence of yonder mauve mountains seemed the only ambiance fitting to her grief. She tore through the woods, shredding her skirts, her tears ricocheting off the glassblowing clockwinding trees -- until she came to a soundless clearing.
Edith had fled her lessons by 8:30 that morning, after her semiotics teacher, a dragon named Pru, was slain by a lusty adventurer to avenge his sexual insecurities.
E.G. at the age of 14, she found the skeleton of her hitherto unknown twin in a glacier which enveloped her after she was ABANDONED BY SPARTANS on the slopes of a mountain.
Her father, however, was a sweetheart of Caligula, and Edith and her lupine sisters were educated classically, and thoroughly grounded in the thought of the pre-Socratics, the Vienna Circle, Foucault's Pendulum, Semiotics of Chaffinch, Electronic Engineering, the Pre-Raphaelites, Bicarbonate of Soda, Forensics and Whispering, Post-Fordism and Pi R Squared, the Vernacular Arhictecture of Moths, Existential Counting, the Flying Arrow Paradox, Plebian Metaphysics, How to Make Mustard in Difficult Circumstances, e.g. in a Tree, Duck-Rabbit, Real Numbers.
In reality, Edith spent little time in lessons, borne by the inexorable winds of tragedy on relentless far-flung misadventures.
-- despite being too heir to a disinterested kingdom to the east, which was anyway too busy with anarcho-syndicalism to notice or care.
After broadcasting her memoirs on the radio, her magnum opus, Tomfrey died.
The weeping Descartes took the day-old sickening snickering offspring of his drowned love to be wetnursed by a raven of the nearest citadel on a craggy heap of lost love, to say prayers to the soul of her mother.
The gravelly milk of her wet-nurse dried up when Edith was three, when the raven flew off to the Technological Institute of Wien to submit her thesis, depositing Edith on a passing wolf.
Edith was born in a riverbed to a minnow of ill repute who drowned herself the following morning. She drowned herself unaware that her long lost lover* would appear to her watery cadaver with liquor chocolates and chrysanthemums and a book of sonnets about a life in search of his lost and only love.
*Descartes: spurned by the minnow in a teenage conflagration of misjudgment in favour of a life in the service of God, which was lived for only an afternoon before the minnow absconded from the nunnery and eloped in a low dive.
Well, so, this is my webcomic. It's called Glowing Falling Over and it's this story I'm writing at the moment drawn out in pictures. I hope you think it's pretty and funny.
The pictures appear really small because I'm too ignorant/lazy to set up a proper website, but if you click on them it'll show you the whole big image.
xox
