After the last picture
(which was the first to overload my poor old copy of PSP7 with too many layers), my brain decided to turn back towards the world of words. Something about Misfile
inspires me to want to write my own ideas more than any other comic. All I can say about the story that has been bouncing around my head for the past couple of weeks without giving away too much is that it will be about one of the ways I envision a possible end of Misfile. It will be 1000x more serious in tone than what I have written before. I am even less of a writer than I am a visual artist so every sentence is proving to be a challenge. I have no idea how long it will be once put into words and am still trying to sort out things like the sequence of events and filling plot holes so there is no ETA. Regardless, I felt like sharing a quick preview.
Ash’s head spun as he clawed his way back to consciousness. Was he in his bed? No, something didn’t feel right. His eyes were equally confused as they struggled to focus on the surroundings. He was in a... hospital bed? As the rest of his senses returned, Ash could feel the small hose inserted in his nostril and down his throat. How long had he been there that he needed a feeding tube? Bandages wrapped his head tightly. Looking down he could see one arm immobilized by a cast and an IV inserted into the other. He tried to sit up but his aching body failed him. Even turning his head was a chore but he managed to face the sun shining through the curtains. Someone was asleep in a nearby chair, draped in the midday glow.
Emily. A jumble of memory came to Ash as he looked upon her. The two of them had spent the afternoon in town eating lunch and catching a matinée movie. It was the closest they had come to having a normal date in public, even stealing a few kisses in the moments people’s attentions were elsewhere. Leaving the theater was when events took a dark turn.
Sounds like a fun romp, huh?