A Story Awaits – Page 1

Well let me formally introduce myself. I’m Samuel Hyde. Now, as sentimental as I get over new beginnings, we just don’t have that luxury today. I do apologize, but time is of the essence, so I’ll clue you in along the way. I’m your average suit by day, and meager artist off the clock; a classic night owl. I was afflicted with a severe case of creativity from a young age my friend, it keeps me up at night, and damn near every one. That’s why I write and sketch all I can, helps clear things up, and gets heavy thoughts off my mind. Right now even, I felt the ever so faintest resurgence of a memory from who knows how far back, and that’s why we’re rushing to my studio to get it down before it’s lost forever… so until then.

Most Sincerely Yours,

Samuel Hyde

Samuel Hyde

What Lurks in the Dark – Page 6

My Dear Reader,

Why do we find that our dreams do not carry the same feelings they once did? Can’t you remember your imaginations in childhood being so vivid, they blurred the lines of life and fiction? All those mornings staring into the mirror, envisioning who you would one day become. What could it possibly be… Do our dreams deceive us in our youth, or does maturation rob us of our ability to believe them? Or maybe, finding the will to chase your dreams far after the butterflies have settled, is the true test of one’s conviction? At least, that is what I would like to believe. I do apologize, I sometimes forget myself, I did not mean to come across so perturbed! But, these questions may offer some bearing to this tale, as we pick up right where we left off.

As you and Samuel enter the Bar to finally realize your journey, very different preparations are being made at what I can only express as the boarder of existence as we know it. Golden dust trails as Death strolls into frame. The only accompanying sound to his stride is the shifting of sand, growing louder with each step. Closer and closer, the sands eventually can be heard crashing all around, as if the desert itself had sprung up right there into a waterfall of dust. The place grew dark until nothing could be seen, and at that moment the footsteps stopped, and the air suddenly silent.

A match was struck, and the dim light outlined Death’s figure. A skeleton in a suit, searching its pockets before retrieving a small silver case. You could once again see those boney fingers as they handled the case with impressive familiarity. In one effortless motion the front spring-lock was engaged, the lid flew open, and the opened case was talently caught in Death’s palm. A cigarette was pulled from the container, and just as effortlessly, the case was flicked shut and slid into a pocket like a magic trick so good you’d pay to see it. Such a practiced routine he had, but more shocking was that the cigarette was lit in the midst of the second act, while you were tracking his sleight of hand.

A second match was struck, and candles lit the space. A table topped with hourglasses and a scale could now be seen. Death slumped into the lone chair pulled up to the table before surrending a sigh of relief. The cigarette was clenched between his teeth as he pulled the watch he had picked up at the graveyard from his waistcoat pocket. Chuckling to himself, “It’s about time” while he shuffled around the hourglasses. Finally finding the match, he rested it upon one of the platforms before placing the watch on the other. The watch, to his dismay, came up light on the scale. The chuckles subsided and gave way to outburst. “What!?” The cool composure Death had all this while went up in flames, the table was flipped over along with everything else, and ashes settled over them as his cigarette dropped to the floor. The candlelights quickly burnt out on the cold ground. Death went into a frenzy of curses and jeers I dare say near unrecognizable as language. All you could manage to make out was: “Where is their damn time going, WHERE are their memories running off to!?” The half-smoked cigarette was slowly dying out about the same time his tantrum was cooling down.

Just when the situation seemed to have calmed over, a heavy presence entered the room. Something foul, something vile, something truly damnable was there. The final weak ember blew out, and the pitch black darkness returned. “Death! You are making a mockery of the powers that be… this issue has only seemed to worsen under your watch, and you’ve had more than enough time to reap such trifling seedlings from the earth. You have tested my patience for the very last time. If I am forced to question your resolve once more, I promise you an existence far worse than this…”

Even I cannot claim to know what this entity that struck such fear into Death itself really was, but to be honest, I am perfectly fine if I never find out. Moreover, It’s absolutely no wonder why Death is a fan of Marlboro…

My dear reader, I am deeply sorry to say that the likelihood of the immaterial being as simple and straightforward as the material, is slim to none. The nature of the many forces at work in our real and or imagined lives, are not quite as they seem… but I have a hunch you have caught on to this yourself. For you already know what happens when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares right back. So until next time, my friend, and Godspeed.

Most Sincerely Yours,

Samuel Hyde

Posted in Art

Return to Form

My Dearest Reader,

I deeply apologize for such a a long leave of absence, and while I had hoped to keep personal matters out of my writing, I would like to share with you some thoughts that have been resurfacing as of late.

I never expected for people to enjoy my style of storytelling, but now find myself circling back, time and time again to the kind words I received so long ago.

I write nearly every day to decompress, to unwind, and to unload much of the weight from my shoulders. To be very honest, if I don’t put pen to paper and rid myself of my daydreams, they haunt me ceaselessly. To have clarity in my days, I have no choice but to write well into the evening.

However, it gradually became unnerving… was I really content with the pages of entries I so tirelessly mulled over, to just be pages for me alone to know? Curiosity challenged my resolve, I had simply wanted to just keep to myself, but in the end I was determined to know whether I was wrong to think that way at all. While very unsure of myself, I proceeded to post the pages I have uploaded thus far.

Though it was brief, I received far more feedback than anticipated, and found myself at a most difficult crossroads. If you love something, you must fight all your welled-up emotions and force yourself to step back and observe the road ahead. I apologize, I am never one to offer unsolicited advice, but your passions are some of the most precious things you possess. While magnificently inspiring objects of our inner most yearnings, they are also fragile… and alas, we live in turbulent times. Guard them with every ounce of strength you have, for I have seen firsthand that nothing breaks a person more than a broken dream. But surely the world is not as stark a place as I make it out to be; what can be broken, can also be put back together, in good time.

Nevertheless, I knew what I was choiced with. Either I could keep on posting despite my trepidations for starting at all, or I could stop and see if this was what I really wanted to do. I knew I had to simply walk away; if I was so inclined to continue what I began, after roughly a year (either shy of or just over), that would be the test where I could find my resolution.

I’m overjoyed to be back, now with the vim and vigor I desperately needed. I plan to continue where I left off and earnestly hope you enjoy all that is to follow. Thank you, and I wish you the best of holiday seasons.

Most Sincerely Yours,

Samuel Hyde

Posted in Art

Dear Reader – Page 5

My dear reader, I hope you are doing well, enjoying life and all of its splendid nuances. If I may, and before stepping back into our perilous journey alongside Samuel Hyde, allow me to preface this page with a short statement from yours truly. I would love to continue posting as I have been. However, I’ve so much enjoyed getting to read all of your thoughtful jottings, daily logs and accounts of literary and worldly adventure, that I would like to revise my previous posting style so that I may write more often. As I am an artist first and foremost, that is the main focus of my page. To accommodate a shorter schedule, I will be limiting most posts to one sketch. This will slow the story down a bit, but the quality of sketches will be much higher. Also, I will be able to write much more on each scene and really flush out all the details . This post will be the first trial of my new style, and I hope you enjoy this direction. If you do, any and all feedback is much appreciated! As always, thank you very much for your continued interest and support of my passionate hobby, you have my deepest gratitude. Now, back to the exciting stuff…

As you both exit the coupe, you start making your way towards the rather worn building. “Not what you were expecting, or are you not too fond of the bar scene?” I think it’s fair to say anyone who has experienced a truly thorough bender, may never wish to see another barstool or billiards table so long as they live. Samuel, however, was cracking a joke, and a pretty pathetic one at that. Although, acknowledging the rather disappointing location settled your initial shock. As you look over to give a small uneasy laugh, he was already sporting a wide grin. And I mean, wide, for him. He smiled an awful lot, but he was smirking like he knew something you didn’t. You wouldn’t have to wait long to figure that out either, because as you stopped in front of the building… it looked brand new.

The sides, visible just a moment ago, were crumbly brick walls and the shingle roof was ancient. “It’s going to take a lot more to finish it, but this used to be the most popular hangout in town. The good times wore this place right out. The entrance has been remodeled identically, down to every last nail of the original.” Upon seeing it, clearly, the doorway must have been the handy work of a master carpenter. The fine wood accents stained a golden brown. Most interesting of all, was that the door was in fact leading down to a basement level. On ground level, large windows were prevalent… but the building was too tall for just two floors, given the basement as a floor, yet no windows or vents were present where a second floor could be. All you could notice was decorative metal rail spanning across the face of the pub, and a single neon martini sign. “So, you ready to see what we’re here for?” Giving the nod, you head down the steps to a set of pearl white doors, and your eyes widen as Samuel reaches for the brass knob. Wondering, what were you really here for, and was there more to this bar than you initially believed? So until then…

Most Sincerely Yours,

Samuel Hyde

Posted in Art

Onto the Pavement – Page 4

Back on our path, you and Samuel finally reach his automobile. It was like gazing upon a relic of a time long gone.

A deep royal blue, the classic color effortlessly matched with the coupe’s streamlined craftsmanship. You carefully open the side door, and shut it ever-so-softly after taking your seat, as if to prevent tarnishing its pristine condition. A laugh fills the passenger compartment, “It’s just a car you know, no need to act like you’re in a fine china shop. You should have seen this thing when I picked up the scrapped frame from the junkyard. It’s come a long way from the rusted heap it was. I’m not the most gifted handyman around, but you can do anything with enough time. I’ve had my fair share of that and then some.” He turns the key, flips on the stereo, and accelerates onto the highway. You’re now officially making headway to wherever this studio of his actually was. A jazzy rhythm accompanies your drive, a rather refreshing change in atmosphere from the suspenseful silence of your walk. “Well we have a ways until we arrive, so I’m curious, what’s your story?” For all his quirks, the man sure was blunt, no hesitation to him whatsoever. You respond with the regulars, and are quickly interrupted, “No no no, I mean, what are you really about? This drive is only so long you know!” Isn’t it difficult when someone demands to know something of real substance about you? Being put on the spot this way is more a question of your character, if anything else. Like prodding to see exactly what you’re willing to reveal, whether you embellish the truth, or if you even tell the truth at all to name a few. As much as you want to take the safe route and feed him a few shallow lines… you’re already in the car. My dear reader, is it really an adventure if you aren’t willing to risk something of yourself? So, in for a penny, in for a pound; you lay it all out as quickly and eloquently as you can. Not the easiest balance I might add. The music slowly swells into a frenzy, almost to match the convoluted mess one can expect when unraveling their person entirely. You hastily finish the last few statements all jumbled into one sentence, leaving you gasping for air. The tune dies down as you catch your breath. Samuel can’t help but exude another wide grin, a look worth wagering… you’ll be seeing a lot more of. His eyes dart to you for a split second before fixing back on the road ahead, “Well here I thought you’d be just like everyone else, but I must admit, I was dead wrong. Touché stranger, very interesting. Not too common to meet someone so genuine.” Just as you’re about to ask your own questions, the coupe comes to a sudden stop and the engine cuts off. “We’re here.” A slumped two story building stands in front of you and now you have a much more urgent quandary on your mind, why on earth are we at a broken down bar?

So until then…

Most Sincerely Yours,

Samuel Hyde

Posted in Art

The Villain You Already Know – Page 3

As our journey begins, the proverbial die is cast. A second player materializes from the ether, one I’m sure you’re well familiar. It goes by many monikers, a force of nature unlike any other. Just uttering its name is said to bring it that much closer to you, and even to the non-superstitious, it’s considered an act of bad taste to mention it.

And here something emerges now, stepping slowly through the foggy haze. As you look around you see the landscape has carved stones jutting out every so often. A cemetery. Closer still, the shadowy figure labors on. Finally, it stops at an unmarked grave, glancing over to check for any noticeable features. Its search halts as its eyes find a modest watch, politely laid atop the resting place. A sinister chuckle echoed through the burial grounds, and your eyes do not deceive you; a boney hand hovered over the timepiece to retrieve it. This entity in front of you, was Death. Clad in black, the reaper returned to its stroll, almost as if to inspect the whole graveyard. As it moved past, you can make out that sand was seeping through its suit, escaping from every corner leaving a trail of golden colored dust behind.

All I know, is that someone’s time was nearing its end. Surely, a race against the clock is now on the table, and the future even more uncertain. So until then…

Most Sincerely Yours,

Samuel Hyde

Posted in Art

And so Marks the Beginning – Page 2

As we pace quickly in tandem with our newfound companion, his rather loud get-up catches your eye. Vibrant hues were woven into nearly every thread, a well pressed shirt neatly tucked into his suit pants all topped with leather braces and flawlessly knotted tie. An odd mix of flashy and well polished left you wondering who it was you were really getting involved with. The new moon made the walk near unnavigable, with only the occasional street light to mark your path. The woods around, absolutely silent, added to the unsettling atmosphere. It always feels like eyes are on you in the quiet dark, but Samuel’s voice as you stepped along kept your nerves easy. Until suddenly, a shrieking noise tore through the night as a large bird swooped low and up onto a nearby tree. You both froze as you looked hard to identify the massive feathered thing, it’s back turned to you making it hard to distinguish. All at once, its head flipped around and a hoot gave it away. A curious barn owl had come to watch you walk your way.



Relieved, a sigh escapes you both as your iced over stance relaxes back to a cool composed posture. Still stopped, Samuel turns to you, “This might be a good moment to slow things down and let you know what’s going on here. I admit, I’m not who you expect me to be, and what lies ahead… it’s a lot to take in. What you see from here re-writes all the rules, and as always, the dangers are many. Before we go any further, I want to make sure you’re on board?”

You get a good second look at him now, his Cheshire smile is all but wiped from his face and you can tell he’s being as serious as he can be. His dark brown eyes stare back at you unflinching, and the scar wrapping around his face only emphasizes the dangers ahead. He then reaches out his left hand to meet you, a cunning gesture, as your hesitation and equal seriousness gave away your desire to see what was to come.


While more custom to extend a right hand, the thought doesn’t even cross your mind as the dim road lights brilliantly mirror off a gold ring and watch. The blinding light is distracting, and the allure of gold is a physical phenomenon like nothing else. When you really focused on him, this guy practically looked like he was keeping the local jeweler in business! Despite it all, you cautiously clasp his hand with yours. A wide grin arose on his face, his eyes sparkled, and lastly he closed the deal with three words. “Until the end.”

Moving onward you see that you’re nearing a car. Emotions well as the eagerness of adventure takes a tight hold of your heart. So until then…

Most Sincerely Yours,

Samuel Hyde




Posted in Art

The Liebster Award

Fried Pixels


Basking in the mini sun’s soft glow, an insistent breeze compelled me to look around. Twisting like a leaf in a current, my gaze leapt over trees and meadows. Racing up the heights, and back down to the ants. To the depths of the birch forest in the west, and… well, to the depths of the birch forest in the east. Narrowed as my focus had been, unwilling to set aside my mini sun, a shrinking sensation crept through my limbs. Like the edges of a map unfurling, the world would keep expanding until I discovered what I was supposed to see.

Hmm, there?

A butterfly twiddling his wings on a flower?

No, no, something else.

The spherical toad, with his throat swollen from croaking?

No, still not right.

A crick bringing my whirling dervish imitation to a halt, there it was! Hovering, literally, level with my nose, close enough…

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Posted in Art