Tag Archive: fund raising

Boring Story

fine art drawing by san francisco artist sarah curtiss

Genie Ology

I am Genie…Genie Ology. I contain the records of all that came before and all that will come after. Speak with me and I will write your fate in my pages. Beware, though…if you come too close, your fate may be written more quickly than you anticipated.

fantasy image of a living wall by san francisco fine artist sarah curtiss

I am The Wall. You will come across me many times in your journey. Sometimes you will think you have broken me down. But I am many in one. You will run into me again.

The Attack of Ignorance

I was once a renowned educational system.
But I have been beaten and robbed by Ignorance,
my sworn enemy.
My foundations have been rocked; 
I am no longer well-stacked.
Bits and pieces of my knowledge are being blown to the winds,
never to be reassembled as me again.
I alone stand between you and Ignorance,
the eater of souls, the extinguisher of light.

Help me, Page Turner and Dona Read, Help me.


The story is scrambled; the path between Eggcentricity and Eggistential is strewn with the shells of those who cracked on the journey. Will she Eggsist much longer?

Egghead Revisited

Fantasy character from The Book People Chronicles of a castle with many faces and arms made of books
We are A. Castle. My sister Castles and I send messengers back and forth daily, but our real mode of communication is kept secret from the messengers and all others who would read of our books and use our knowledge for unsavory purposes.

Are you taking eggsactly the right steps and reading eggssactly the right books to become eggsactly the cosmic yolk you want to become?

Give me a name. Give me a story. Give me existence.

The sunny side of an eggsacting skyline, captured immediately before the hard-boiled buildings became toast.

Blue Djinn

I am a genie with many bottles that contain genies with many bottles that contain genies….

As she shook her head from side to side, her scrolls scrunched up instinctively into wads of paper, the words unreadable to anyone other than immediate family.

Her dull story scrolled listlessly across the landscape, then produced a golden plum which made it all worth while.


The moon rEyes over the tomed cities of eggs-is-tense.

I am a private personality with pendulous pouting appendages. It’s a problem.

Drawing of a woman with other heads growing from her eyebrow and out of her earring

My family is attached to me at the eyebrow and earlobe. They aren’t heavy; I shrunk their heads 4 centuries ago to make them lighter. To this day, they still complain about the shrinking. I say after 400 years they need to let it go.

I am a snail town. Some characters believe I move too slowly, but I lay down a trail wherever I go and this takes time, which I digest slowly.

I am an urban character, a city slicker, a golden girl with fantasies of fruit growing in my streets.

I am a closed book, made up of many stories. Come closer and I will capture your story in my library.

Character 09

We are the Potheads. Our name has been stolen and we are planning a campaign to get it back.
book with a face rolling along on a wheel

Traveling Journal

I am a traveling journal. My story is written as I roll through life; just like yours.

Character 06

I am your ride. I will take you between worlds of words and dreams. We shall soar through the heavens together. Careful, though…the return flight is not always on time.

This obstacle must be crossed to reach Bookstock. Each stair is lined with the books which contain the information needed to pass this challenge.


The fabo festival for book people where Page Turner, Doña Read and others will be inhaling words, phrases, entire paragraphs, trying to reach an unparalleled intellectual high. Ideas will be flying through the air and thoughts will be exchanged randomly.

Bea Hive

Bea’s head was a buzz of thoughts and ideas…she changed her hairdo to reflect her hive mentality.

Character 04

I know I left my book wide open, but please tell me you didn’t see my story.

Scroll Sisters

They were sisters. They shared the same beginning to their story. But a small difference in the second paragraph has led to very different tales.

Thoughts For Sale

I am the City of Bookstores. Thoughts of all kinds are exchanged for something of like value. Do not confuse me with the Public City of Libraries.


Sly Brarian

She was Sly and she was Brare.  She wore her mysterious personality on her head in a closed book.

Page Turner waited until the small purple clerk was free, then inquired about using the Bubble Sceletope to contact Ms. Tree. The clerk squinted its one eye sharply and walked toward Page, horn lowered, wings spread threateningly. What do you know about a mystery, it growled. A voice from the back trilled softly. The clerk became silent, but maintained the body language of a carnivore about to feed. It was then that Page noticed the giant pigeon toes sprouting underneath the purple pants. OMG, was it a One-Eyed-One-Horned-Flying-Purple-People-Eater? Thank the Librarian, Page isn’t purple, she is a read book.

Hour Town

Pillow Hour Town
If time is relative, then this is my ancestor…a village of myth and mystery, moving from verbal to written and producing me at the end of the day, wrapped in these stories in ways which can no longer be unwrapped. If you peel away my mythology, like an onion, I am no more.

Read Writing Hood

Read is not just a ‘Hood, she’s an entire suburb millions of times larger than her inhabitants, Page and Doña.

Doña Read


Page Turner

Page Turner Read Me