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UPDATE: Boltro is okay. I can now type these words and have it be wonderfully true. I spoke with him on DeviantArt. Boltro is okay!
Oh God...
Please help me: http://www.furaffinity.net/journal/1312806/
I'm so scared. And I feel so helpless...
I've been waiting for him to respond and he hasn't. I'm so scared.
I hardly slept last night, and I spent the majority of the time crying into my pillow... Not that any of that matters, my ills are nothing. I just want Boltro to be okay...
I went to an Easter service this morning and I prayed so hard for him. I prayed to God that he was okay and that when I got home I'd find a response. And I didn't. Oh, how wonderful it would be if, right after I post this, I find that he's responded. Oh please, please, please, please!
I tried to calm my nerves with therapeutic writing exercises. I wrote "Boltro is okay," dozens of times, but my hands were shaking so much the words kept getting jumbled. Half of it is hardly legible. And it didn't work much as my mind kept drifting into dark possibilities no matter how I tried to keep positive.
Boltro, wherever you are, I really want to help you. Please don't let you be...
Oh... Boltro...
***********************************************************************
Boltro's Dream (excerpt from my therapeutic writing)
"Boltro is safe and warmin his bed and he is sleeping soundly with happy dreams untroubled dreams he’s dreaming of a good thing he likes and he’s smiling because it is good.
BOltro is fine and good and he’s asleep and his dream is this:
He is walking along a beautiful dirt lane with wildflowers on the left and a babbling brook on the right. There are birds singing and squirrels gamboling around the oak trees that line the path. There is sunshine dancing across his face. He is humming and smiling contently. He walks until he comes to bridge. There is a cookie on the other side of the bridge. He has to cross the bridge to get to the cookie. But the bridge is scary. It has old rotten boards and the current below is very strong. He stands pondering for a moment before he decides to sit down. He feels it is hopeless and is about to give up and walk back down the path he came which seems dark and gloomy all of a sudden, when out of nowhere a blue-haired koopa appears. He is wearing a dusty maroon traveling cloak and has a one tooth overbite. He offers a hand to Boltro who accepts it smiling. The turtle sprouts big feathery wings from behind his cape and flies Boltro over to the other side of the river. And Boltro thanks the koopa and runs to get the cookie. But the cookie is gone. In its place is a big, big building with a sign above it saying “Art Gallery”.
“Go on in,” Says the koopa who had followed Boltro up the bank. Boltro hesitates a moment before entering. The inside is magnificent and huge with great stone pillars around the dome-ceilinged lobby. He walks further in. There are tons of people everywhere; they are swarming the paintings and prints on the walls. The gift shop off the lobby is abuzz with chatter and is nearly packed with shoppers all grasping books and CDs. Then a person shifts from the nearest painting and Boltro realizes something. It is a picture of a scene from a story he wrote, not only that, its absolutely fantastic— everything is as he imagined it, like it sprung straight from his mind onto the 10-foot canvas. He draws a bit nearer; the crowd’s din seems dimmed, muffled. He makes his way to the front and reads the label next to the picture. “CONNOR, an epic of ages by Boltro Bankai,” He can hardly believe his eyes. He looks around as he catches a snatch of conversation from a pair of museum-goers beside him.
“...My kid just loves them, can’t get enough of them. I can never get him to read anything else.” A woman is saying enthusiastically. “But ever since I bought “CONNOR” he’s been bouncing off the walls, begging me to buy him more books.”
“No kidding?” her companion remarks.
“He’s writing stuff of his own now too, fan-fiction, I think he called it...”
“Oh, wow,”
Boltro backs out of the crowd. His mind reeling. He bumps into someone.
“Hey! Watch where you’re go-” The man freezes, staring into Boltro’s face. “Oh my- Oh, great gobs- IT’S HIM!” He shouts to the whole hall. “It’s him! It’s BOLTRO!” Hundreds of heads turn, there’s a collective gasp, and a second later Boltro is surrounded by people, all praising him, many are taking pictures with their cameras cell phones, and questioning him fervently on how he gets his ideas. His hands are grasped by dozens of patrons, some in tears, saying how his work changed their lives. Some are even asking for autographs. A little boy, no older than 7 or so shyly holds out a love-worn copy of The Curious Case of Princess Catherine and other Short Stories. An elderly gentleman presents a copy of the very same book for signing.
"Your stories have something to teach to everyone," The man says kindly before the scrabbling crowd swallows him again. Boltro, still dazed, signs dozens of books, T-shirts, and CDs. After about twenty minutes the crowd starts to disperse, and Boltro sees the koopa from before standing near the entrance looking at him, he waves. Boltro breaks free of the last few straggling fanboys and walks over to where the koopa is standing. He’s looking up at what seems the biggest painting in the place. It is an image of a heroic, red-furred anthropomorphic wolf, rendered so beautifully and emotionally the paint and canvas seems to breath. It is set against a background of scattered stars and stardust, the shadow of a massive space station looms behind the figure of the wolf, engines belching blue flames.
“It takes a lot of work, Boltro,” the koopa says, “It is not easy to get here. But I’ll be here every step of the way, if you so wish.” The turtle gently squeezes Boltro on the shoulder. “You do have the talent and determination to take you this far,” The koopa gestures around the gallery. “And you’ll make it there someday. I know it.” The koopa turns to face Boltro, looking straight into his eyes and Boltro is taken aback by the tears shimmering behind the koopa’s glasses. “Just one small step at a time. Just one victory at a time.” The koopa extracts something from a pocket on his cloak. It’s the large cookie. He hands it to Boltro. Boltro reaches out and takes it. He’s about to take a bite when suddenly- He wakes up.
And he smiles. Because it is good. "
...
*sniff*
It's all my fault. I never responded to his journals, he was asking for condolence and I selfishly ignored him. Please, Boltro. Please be okay...
UPDATE: Boltro is okay. I can now type these words and have it be wonderfully true. I spoke with him on DeviantArt. Boltro is okay!
EDIT: Added a tiny portion to the story to clarify an important concept.
Oh God...
Please help me: http://www.furaffinity.net/journal/1312806/
I'm so scared. And I feel so helpless...
I've been waiting for him to respond and he hasn't. I'm so scared.
I hardly slept last night, and I spent the majority of the time crying into my pillow... Not that any of that matters, my ills are nothing. I just want Boltro to be okay...
I went to an Easter service this morning and I prayed so hard for him. I prayed to God that he was okay and that when I got home I'd find a response. And I didn't. Oh, how wonderful it would be if, right after I post this, I find that he's responded. Oh please, please, please, please!
I tried to calm my nerves with therapeutic writing exercises. I wrote "Boltro is okay," dozens of times, but my hands were shaking so much the words kept getting jumbled. Half of it is hardly legible. And it didn't work much as my mind kept drifting into dark possibilities no matter how I tried to keep positive.
Boltro, wherever you are, I really want to help you. Please don't let you be...
Oh... Boltro...
***********************************************************************
Boltro's Dream (excerpt from my therapeutic writing)
"Boltro is safe and warmin his bed and he is sleeping soundly with happy dreams untroubled dreams he’s dreaming of a good thing he likes and he’s smiling because it is good.
BOltro is fine and good and he’s asleep and his dream is this:
He is walking along a beautiful dirt lane with wildflowers on the left and a babbling brook on the right. There are birds singing and squirrels gamboling around the oak trees that line the path. There is sunshine dancing across his face. He is humming and smiling contently. He walks until he comes to bridge. There is a cookie on the other side of the bridge. He has to cross the bridge to get to the cookie. But the bridge is scary. It has old rotten boards and the current below is very strong. He stands pondering for a moment before he decides to sit down. He feels it is hopeless and is about to give up and walk back down the path he came which seems dark and gloomy all of a sudden, when out of nowhere a blue-haired koopa appears. He is wearing a dusty maroon traveling cloak and has a one tooth overbite. He offers a hand to Boltro who accepts it smiling. The turtle sprouts big feathery wings from behind his cape and flies Boltro over to the other side of the river. And Boltro thanks the koopa and runs to get the cookie. But the cookie is gone. In its place is a big, big building with a sign above it saying “Art Gallery”.
“Go on in,” Says the koopa who had followed Boltro up the bank. Boltro hesitates a moment before entering. The inside is magnificent and huge with great stone pillars around the dome-ceilinged lobby. He walks further in. There are tons of people everywhere; they are swarming the paintings and prints on the walls. The gift shop off the lobby is abuzz with chatter and is nearly packed with shoppers all grasping books and CDs. Then a person shifts from the nearest painting and Boltro realizes something. It is a picture of a scene from a story he wrote, not only that, its absolutely fantastic— everything is as he imagined it, like it sprung straight from his mind onto the 10-foot canvas. He draws a bit nearer; the crowd’s din seems dimmed, muffled. He makes his way to the front and reads the label next to the picture. “CONNOR, an epic of ages by Boltro Bankai,” He can hardly believe his eyes. He looks around as he catches a snatch of conversation from a pair of museum-goers beside him.
“...My kid just loves them, can’t get enough of them. I can never get him to read anything else.” A woman is saying enthusiastically. “But ever since I bought “CONNOR” he’s been bouncing off the walls, begging me to buy him more books.”
“No kidding?” her companion remarks.
“He’s writing stuff of his own now too, fan-fiction, I think he called it...”
“Oh, wow,”
Boltro backs out of the crowd. His mind reeling. He bumps into someone.
“Hey! Watch where you’re go-” The man freezes, staring into Boltro’s face. “Oh my- Oh, great gobs- IT’S HIM!” He shouts to the whole hall. “It’s him! It’s BOLTRO!” Hundreds of heads turn, there’s a collective gasp, and a second later Boltro is surrounded by people, all praising him, many are taking pictures with their cameras cell phones, and questioning him fervently on how he gets his ideas. His hands are grasped by dozens of patrons, some in tears, saying how his work changed their lives. Some are even asking for autographs. A little boy, no older than 7 or so shyly holds out a love-worn copy of The Curious Case of Princess Catherine and other Short Stories. An elderly gentleman presents a copy of the very same book for signing.
"Your stories have something to teach to everyone," The man says kindly before the scrabbling crowd swallows him again. Boltro, still dazed, signs dozens of books, T-shirts, and CDs. After about twenty minutes the crowd starts to disperse, and Boltro sees the koopa from before standing near the entrance looking at him, he waves. Boltro breaks free of the last few straggling fanboys and walks over to where the koopa is standing. He’s looking up at what seems the biggest painting in the place. It is an image of a heroic, red-furred anthropomorphic wolf, rendered so beautifully and emotionally the paint and canvas seems to breath. It is set against a background of scattered stars and stardust, the shadow of a massive space station looms behind the figure of the wolf, engines belching blue flames.
“It takes a lot of work, Boltro,” the koopa says, “It is not easy to get here. But I’ll be here every step of the way, if you so wish.” The turtle gently squeezes Boltro on the shoulder. “You do have the talent and determination to take you this far,” The koopa gestures around the gallery. “And you’ll make it there someday. I know it.” The koopa turns to face Boltro, looking straight into his eyes and Boltro is taken aback by the tears shimmering behind the koopa’s glasses. “Just one small step at a time. Just one victory at a time.” The koopa extracts something from a pocket on his cloak. It’s the large cookie. He hands it to Boltro. Boltro reaches out and takes it. He’s about to take a bite when suddenly- He wakes up.
And he smiles. Because it is good. "
...
*sniff*
It's all my fault. I never responded to his journals, he was asking for condolence and I selfishly ignored him. Please, Boltro. Please be okay...
UPDATE: Boltro is okay. I can now type these words and have it be wonderfully true. I spoke with him on DeviantArt. Boltro is okay!
EDIT: Added a tiny portion to the story to clarify an important concept.
Category Artwork (Traditional) / All
Species Wolf
Size 1280 x 924px
File Size 245 kB
As will I. And I'm sure Boltro will appreciate all this thought and sentiment...
This was a very thoughtful and wonderful dedication, to Boltro himself, for his character, and his imagination...I will not degrade this whole message by trying to critique it. It is a beautiful work...and please Koopus...
*hugs the koopa close, patting his shell, gently whispering* Its okay...you've tried your best buddy...its okay...
This was a very thoughtful and wonderful dedication, to Boltro himself, for his character, and his imagination...I will not degrade this whole message by trying to critique it. It is a beautiful work...and please Koopus...
*hugs the koopa close, patting his shell, gently whispering* Its okay...you've tried your best buddy...its okay...
*cries for 24 hours before reaching through the computer to embrace you as tight as possible*
Koopus, I barely know what to say in response to this.
You created this for me on such short notice, and you PRAYED for me? No matter what religion it was a part of, that is a very kind gesture on your part.
I-...I just can't express how I feel right now with words.
The feeling is beyond beautiful, my appreciation beyond thankful.
I just don't have the words to express anything else.
I actually saw this yesterday evening, but I didn't want to favorite it without saying something in response as well. It would just be selfish to not tell you how thankful I am for this.
Thank you.
There is, though, just one little peeve I have with the story...
My books aren't meant for children.
Koopus, I barely know what to say in response to this.
You created this for me on such short notice, and you PRAYED for me? No matter what religion it was a part of, that is a very kind gesture on your part.
I-...I just can't express how I feel right now with words.
The feeling is beyond beautiful, my appreciation beyond thankful.
I just don't have the words to express anything else.
I actually saw this yesterday evening, but I didn't want to favorite it without saying something in response as well. It would just be selfish to not tell you how thankful I am for this.
Thank you.
There is, though, just one little peeve I have with the story...
My books aren't meant for children.
I can see that you've already done so. :)
That's perfectly fine, but to be honest, I think I could make the image much better. I could solidify the colors and maybe make the frame a show a little more of you. I won't change the thumbnail if you don't want me to, but... Well, think about it.
Whether I change it or not, there is something that I'd like to ask... What color are Boltro's eyes? I may have asked this or been told this once before, but I can't remember and there's no color image of Boltro that shows the eye color. (Well, there's Moon or Son, but the eyes on Baby Boltro are colorless... And I'm not sure if that's right...)
That's perfectly fine, but to be honest, I think I could make the image much better. I could solidify the colors and maybe make the frame a show a little more of you. I won't change the thumbnail if you don't want me to, but... Well, think about it.
Whether I change it or not, there is something that I'd like to ask... What color are Boltro's eyes? I may have asked this or been told this once before, but I can't remember and there's no color image of Boltro that shows the eye color. (Well, there's Moon or Son, but the eyes on Baby Boltro are colorless... And I'm not sure if that's right...)
Aw, Boltro. *hugs him back, lower lip trembling, blinking back tears* No more tears, sir, no more except of joy- Mine are.
I'm still just so relieved that you're safe... That's a feeling I can't put into words either...
I'm so happy this brought you happiness.
And I'm so sorry about that mistake in the story. I wrote it out in nonstop fashion so there were bound to be problems with it. I didn't mean to imply that your books would be only meant for children- From what I've read of your fantastic work I think it might be a little more for the young adult, 16-21 or so. But in truth I feel that is far, far, far too narrow a jurisdiction. Boltro, I meant to say that all people, young and old, male and female, of any religion or culture, can learn from your stories. Your stories have a universal morality, a powerful message, that can and will touch any person's soul that reads it.
And that shines through in everything you do.
I changed up a portion of the text, (where the crowd is scrambling for autographs from the great artist) to more accurately portray that idea:
"His hands are grasped by dozens of patrons, some in tears, saying how his work changed their lives. Some are even asking for autographs. A little boy, no older than 7 or so shyly holds out a love-worn copy of The Curious Case of Princess Catherine and other Short Stories. An elderly gentleman presents a copy of the very same book for signing.
"Your stories have something to teach to everyone," The man says kindly before the scrabbling crowd swallows him again. "
I'm still just so relieved that you're safe... That's a feeling I can't put into words either...
I'm so happy this brought you happiness.
And I'm so sorry about that mistake in the story. I wrote it out in nonstop fashion so there were bound to be problems with it. I didn't mean to imply that your books would be only meant for children- From what I've read of your fantastic work I think it might be a little more for the young adult, 16-21 or so. But in truth I feel that is far, far, far too narrow a jurisdiction. Boltro, I meant to say that all people, young and old, male and female, of any religion or culture, can learn from your stories. Your stories have a universal morality, a powerful message, that can and will touch any person's soul that reads it.
And that shines through in everything you do.
I changed up a portion of the text, (where the crowd is scrambling for autographs from the great artist) to more accurately portray that idea:
"His hands are grasped by dozens of patrons, some in tears, saying how his work changed their lives. Some are even asking for autographs. A little boy, no older than 7 or so shyly holds out a love-worn copy of The Curious Case of Princess Catherine and other Short Stories. An elderly gentleman presents a copy of the very same book for signing.
"Your stories have something to teach to everyone," The man says kindly before the scrabbling crowd swallows him again. "
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