10 YEARS AFTER THE BOY WITH SEASHELL TEETH AND THE GIRL WITH FEATHERS IN HER HAIR


For better or worse, all things come to an end… as I wrap up my first collection of tales, all of which surround the dynamic duo Birdgirl and Seaboy, I’d love your feedback. The collected are soon publishing and I’m taking orders now and you can sign up for my mailing list for a discount and I’ll notify you lovely folx prior to launch! For exclusive first editions!

Enjoy and please sign up for my mailing list for updates, I need your support,

10 YEARS OF THE BOY WITH SEASHELL TEETH AND THE GIRL WITH FEATHERS IN HER HAIR

Once upon a shoreline, A boy with seashell teeth, His smile as white as pearl, But his heart as dark as wreath.

He walked along the sandy beach, With a girl with feathers in her hair, Her eyes as bright as the stars above, But with a sadness beyond repair.

They walked and talked of days gone by, Of laughter and of love, But now their hearts were heavy, As they looked to the heavens above.

For the boy with seashell teeth, Had a secret he couldn’t keep, A call from the sea, That he couldn’t escape, so deep.

And the girl with feathers in her hair, Had a longing for the sky, A pull towards the clouds, That she couldn’t deny.

As they stood on the shore, The waves crashing at their feet, They knew their time together, Was bittersweet.

For the boy with seashell teeth, Had to return to the sea, His home and his family, Was calling him to be free.

The girl with feathers in her hair, Spread her wings and took flight, Transforming into a bird, Taking to the sky, with all her might.

They looked at each other, With tears in their eyes, Knowing their goodbye, Was their last sunrise.

But as they flew away, They knew in their hearts, Their love would live on, Even though they were apart


Alright FOLX, I’m working with four concepts: vorpte on your favorite rendering of the girl with feathers in her hair:

Little spots of sunshine lie on the surface of the water and dance, dance, and their reflections wobble deliciously over the ceiling; a stir of my finger sets them whirring, reeling…


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