Imagine this! Become an official Sketchbook artist in The Brooklyn Art Library.

My daughter, Michelle surprised me recently with this little package: a 32 page sketchbook measuring 12.5cms X 18cms. They are encouraging creative storytelling, so I don't think a collection of random drawings would be the answer. It needs a theme. I had a story in my head and couldn't wait to get started.

If you would like to be part of collection of 45,000 artists' sketchbooks from 130 different countries, The Brooklyn Art Library is facilitating this with a project that is designed to encourage creative storytelling, within a global community.

Visit the sketchbook project site: https://www.sketchbookproject.com/

You must create an account, order a sketchbook and link your book to the website. Enjoy! See you there!

My sketchbook submission ....

Creetcha

He stood up smiling 

with muddy knees and dripping net 

and gazed into the jar.

Hidden in the sludge

a creature writhed against the glass.

frightened eyes staring

Squinting at the track,
 his grubby fingers combed red hair.

A long walk home began.

He loved the tangled scrub, 

 bush, trees, animals within,

and sky which held such movement.

He wondered at the blue.

Saw fins of stars and tails of mist

gliding past the clouds.

There were fish up there. 

Up way beyond the dark grey air.

He was sure of it.

The boy's room was dim

the creature gazed out of a bowl

the eager boy peered back

The day had spent them. 

staring stopped and eyes closed.

just a bubble popped.

First light soaked his thoughts

He squeezed his eyes tighter,

then sat wide awake.

Small eyes watched intently

Big eyes blinked back in wonder

A tail swung slowly.

I will call you "Creetcha"

Cherry red eyes blinked with pleasure

Had they become friends?

Daytime Creetcha remained still. 

Then he would steal into the night

serpentine, purposeful.

Creetcha was hungry.
 Claws stabbed through ruffled feathers
he eyed his food carefully.

As the dawn light searched 
and lit the track back home
Creetcha would return to the bowl


Creetcha was evolving.

He slept by day under the bed.
Too large for the bowl.

Before he left one night

he paused beside the boy's bed.

He eyed his food carefully.

Through his slitted eyes

the tearful boy watched Creetcha go,
look back and bare his teeth.

He approached the lake
Were they friends those months before?
he hesitated at the edger

His glass jar and net 

he placed slowly on the mud

He watched a ripple.

A  slow splash nearby

He looked up to the source.

 A shape appeared.

Creetcha! called the boy.

The gloomy figure was quiet.

The shape sank slowly

The boy stood waiting.

Twighlight ordered stillness

The lake quietly obliged.

The boy's mood slumped

He slowly turned his back 

and walked away

A shadow passed him

Before he looked he felt the breath

A cloud of dankness

Creetcha stood up smiling

with muddy knees and dripping net

He gazed into the jar.