Some of the readers of this site will know that this story is the original piece of material behind Candlelight Stories. Back in 1994, I sat at a very flimsy folding table in a Los Angeles apartment with a box of pastels, crayons and ballpoint pens to scratch out a pile of illustrations that vaguely added up to some kind of Christmas tale. I still have all those original drawings in a big department store box. The interesting thing about the illustrations for me is the series of actions that they caused which led me directly into the various skills and technologies that I have used and made a living from ever since. After finishing the illustrations and creating a large bound book to give as a Christmas gift, I scanned the pictures and decided to try to put them into a slide show. I had an early version of the Mosaic web browser and soon realized that I could use my AOL account to post things in a folder that could be accessed by the web browser. Having done that and been very impressed with myself I showed it to my non-technical friends and received some half-hearted congratulations and was asked how I could ever hope to make any money that way. Within a few months I received a letter in the actual mail from the USA Today newspaper requesting permission to put an illustration and a web link in a listing of good things on the web. So I said they could and they printed their thing. So I began to add new things to the web site as I could.

It’s pretty much the same today. You just make a little thing and stick it on the web to see who likes it. But back then it was a little like magic. My web experiment grew quickly and when the higher-speed DSL technology first came into Los Angeles I jumped on it and got myself a Digital Alpha server and put it at the end of a DSL line in my own home to serve the web site. According to the company which was the first one up and running in L.A., I was the first person to attempt running a web server over the DSL technology in Southern California! They gave me totally free ISP service for several years in exchange for a little advertising. I’d actually have late night conversations with their engineers – sometimes from their cars as they made their way to hubs and switches in the dead of night to fix something. Imagine that kind of technical support today with your blog host! Won’t happen! This all worked well for a time. But then the DSL technology began to fail and I quickly realized it was a dead-end technology with too many players involved on the back end who could not adequately maintain the service without blaming each other for failures. But my point is that during that time, with that kind of approach, one could really get a sense of being visited by the world. I could watch the lights blink as people came onto the server to visit. There were times, during serious outages of some sort or other, when I’d throw the big Alpha server into my car and drive it to some other location for a temporary connection. Amazing. Fun.

It’s still fun today. That’s why I still post this odd little story every Christmas. It’s the original first thing of this site.

Story by Artie Knapp
Illustration by Maya Ramaswamy

Light On a Snowy Day

IT WAS TWO DAYS before Christmas and young Maggie Dotson was already being told that her Christmas wish would not be coming true. Paxton she was told, would not be coming back.

A year before that December day an injured baby deer had been abandoned in the woods behind the Dotson’s home. So weak was the little deer, that he hadn’t the strength to run from Maggie’s father when he approached him.

As he carried the little deer towards their home, Maggie rushed outside and greeted her father with great excitement.

“Wow, a deer! What happened to him, Daddy?” asked Maggie.

“Well, I’m not sure how he managed to do it, but he mangled one of his hoofs pretty severely,” Mr. Dotson said.

Maggie leaned in to take a better look. “Poor little reindeer. Can we keep him, Daddy?”

“First of all, he’s a white­-tailed deer,” laughed Mr. Dotson. “And no, we can’t keep him. He’s a wild animal, Maggie. I’ll do everything I can and then he’ll have to be set free.”

While gently rubbing the little deer’s nose it licked Maggie’s hand, which made her laugh. Mr. Dotson smiled and just shook his head. He proceeded to carry the little deer to the garage.

After Mr. Dotson carefully placed the little deer on the floor, he asked Maggie to go to the house and get his medical bag. The little deer was in luck. He was being attended to by James Dotson, local Veterinarian.

In what seemed like two seconds to Mr. Dotson, Maggie rushed inside the garage carrying his medical bag, and a handful of lettuce she had grabbed from the refrigerator. Maggie handed her father the bag, and then placed the lettuce by the little deer’s mouth – but he wasn’t interested.

“Why isn’t he hungry, Daddy?”

“Maybe he’s just too scared to eat right now.”

“I know what he needs,” Maggie said. “He needs carrots, because that’s what Santa’s reindeer like to eat.”

“He’ll get plenty of food, alright. Right now he just needs to have his hoof cleaned and bandaged.”

As Mr. Dotson placed a bandage around the little deer’s injured hoof, Maggie became excited as the little deer began to nibble on the lettuce. And then, she pointed out to her father that the little deer had markings above its eyes that looked like the sun. After a quick observation, Mr. Dotson was struck by how much the little deer’s markings did in fact resemble the sun with protruding rays of light.

It was dark outside and the temperature was quite cold. Despite her reluctance to leave the little deer, Maggie’s father convinced her that he would be safe in the garage. Maggie insisted that her father return with carrots and warm blankets for him. He promised he would.

After he turned off the light in the garage, Maggie turned to her father and said, “I’m going to name him Paxton, Daddy.”

“That’s a fine name for a deer, Maggie.”

“You really think so, Daddy?”

“Sure do.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure Paxton is going to be alright?”

“He’s going to be fine, Maggie. Now let’s get inside where it’s warm.”

Later that night Maggie could barely sleep. She kept getting up to view the garage from the window in her room. Even though she couldn’t see Paxton, looking out at the garage comforted her.

After she awoke the next morning, Maggie rushed down the stairs and was heading for the front door, when her mother asked her where she thought she was going.

“I’m going to go see Paxton, Mommy.”

“Not before you eat your breakfast, young lady.”

To the dissatisfaction of her mother, Maggie wolfed down her breakfast. She had two eggs, scrambled, and a piece of toast. Her glass of orange juice never left the table.

“Where’s Daddy? Is he in the garage with Paxton?”

“Yes, he’s in the garage tending to your little….” Before Mrs. Dotson had finished her sentence, Maggie was out the door.

As Maggie darted into the garage she nearly knocked her father over.

“How’s Paxton, Daddy?”

“He’s doing fine, Maggie.”

“Is his hoof all better now?”

“Well, it’s going to take time to heal. Right now he just needs to work on getting his strength back.”

Paxton was very timid as Maggie approached him.

“Why is he afraid of me, Daddy?”

“He’s still not used to us. This is a strange place to him.”

But with time and persistence, Maggie finally gained the little deer’s trust. In fact, he was soon eating carrots right out of her hand. And when the holidays were over and Maggie was back in school, she never left without feeding Paxton first thing every morning.

Mr. Dotson could see the bond that his daughter felt for the little deer. That scared him, though, because he knew Maggie would never be able to say goodbye. So when his hoof had finally healed, Mr. Dotson came home early one afternoon to set Paxton free.

When Maggie learned that her father had released Paxton, she was devastated. Mr. Dotson had believed it would be easier on Maggie that way, but he was wrong. His daughter never forgot the little deer and she called out to him every day, hoping he would hear her.

In time, though, Maggie did come to understand that deer are not like puppies, or kittens. She understood that wild animals, even little deer, need to be in their natural habitat. But that didn’t change how much Maggie cared for and missed Paxton.

Between the Dotson’s home and acres of woods lay a pond that always froze-solid in the winter months. It was a large pond, and many children would come over to ice-skate on it. But the pond hadn’t frozen over that winter yet, because the weather had been warmer than usual.

As Maggie stood by the pond one afternoon, it started to snow. Mr. Dotson saw Maggie through the kitchen window and could tell she looked upset. Without having to ask what was wrong, he knew.

Mr. Dotson felt guilty about having not been more supportive of his daughter’s belief that she would see Paxton again. And even though he didn’t want to give her false hope, he realized that no longer mattered. Maggie was hurting and he wanted to help.

As Mr. Dotson walked outside to greet his daughter, he carried a pair of binoculars with him. He and Maggie would spend the next couple of hours in the woods, where they searched for deer tracks in the newly fallen snow. But as Mr. Dotson had expected, their search came up empty.

“I’m sorry we didn’t have better luck, Maggie.”

Maggie sadly nodded at her father, who was now carrying her because her toes felt like popsicles. But then something happened! As they were exiting the woods, two deer were standing next to the pond. One of the deer was female, and the other was a buck with antlers. Based on the size of the deer, Maggie never considered that either could be Paxton. But her father quickly reminded her of how much Paxton would have grown over the past year.

As Maggie and her father edged closer to the pond, the doe quickly abandoned her attempt at a drink of water. The buck turned and saw them staring in his direction. But the buck stood still, barely flinching. Maggie, who was no longer being held by her father, watched as he peered through his binoculars. As Mr. Dotson got a closer view of the buck, something stood out through the falling snow; it was the markings above the buck’s eyes. He handed the binoculars to his daughter, and whispered if she recognized anything special about the deer with antlers. Maggie immediately recognized the markings on the buck as Paxton’s. With great excitement, Maggie called out to him, and then the two deer darted away. She continued to call out to Paxton, who briefly stopped in his tracks and looked back at her. After a few moments, he darted off again to catch up with the doe and then disappeared into the woods.

At first, Maggie felt happy, but her happiness soon turned to sadness. She felt as if she had lost Paxton all over again. But her father explained to her the gift she had received in getting to see him once more.

As Maggie stood next to her father, with the snow still falling, a carp jumped making a large splash in the pond. It had been a long day. They went inside to thaw from the cold.

Many years later when Maggie told this story to her grandchildren, she reminded them that the best Christmas presents often aren’t found under a tree, but in your heart.

The End

Here’s a post with information on how you can buy Artie Knapp’s ‘Living Green: A Turtle’s Quest For a Cleaner Planet.’

Here’s a link to the author’s web site where you can purchase more books.

C Merry has created an epic rambling fairy tale that weaves her own modern perspective through the classic stories that children have been familiar with for centuries. The result is both humorous and unsettling. C Merry combines these tales with mythology and Christmas to explain things that have been long forgotten. It’s a beautiful way to start the holidays. You’ll find out that the Pied Piper had money troubles and was working out of his van. Santa Clawz is a wormhole-travelling wildman who began the holiday tradition of sneaking into houses to counteract the effects of war. Instead of dropping bombs, he dropped gifts. He was also descended from grizzly bears.

The story unfolds over a series of partially animated illustrations that are gorgeously detailed, showing squiggly pen lines inside every detail. These pictures are backed by a dense and mysterious soundscape.

What C Merry seems to be doing is connected the world’s most charming tales for children to the much deeper and darker subterranean world of mythology. It works. She has created a mystical world of danger and beauty.

You can also read the entire illustrated tale at the author’s blog.

This incredibly beautiful edition of Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘The Raven’ was published in 1884 with illustrations by Paul Gustave Doré. Click on the images to see full sizes.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore–
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“‘Tis some visiter,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door–
Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;–vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow–sorrow for the lost Lenore–
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore–

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me–filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“‘Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door–
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;
This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”–here I opened wide the door–
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”–
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery explore–
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;–
‘Tis the wind and nothing more.

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he,
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door–

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door–
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then the ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore–
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning–little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door–
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if its soul in that one word he did outpour
Nothing farther then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered–
Till I scarcely more than muttered: “Other friends have flown before–
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore–
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never–nevermore.’”

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore–
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee–by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite–respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!–prophet still, if bird or devil!–
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted–
On this home by Horror haunted–tell me truly, I implore–

Is there–is there balm in Gilead?–tell me–tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!–prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us–by that God we both adore–
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore–
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting–

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!–quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadows on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted–nevermore!

Canadian filmmaker Guy Maddin made this short film which is inspired by an 1882 illustration by Odilon Redon that was in turn inspired by the writing of Edgar Allan Poe.  It has a kind of wild sinister fantasy about it that fascinates me.  I like the way Maddin builds little sets that end up looking almost like illustrations.  He also does a quick visual quote of a great old French film called L’Atalante by Jean Vigo.  This is a frightening and beautiful dream film.

Here’s a re-post of an art game I programmed. It just makes an animated image using math and provides you with a simple drawing program that offers markers, spray paints, and an eraser. The point is for you to draw something on top of my atomic galaxy artwork and make something totally original. There’s a button for you to upload your image to the Candlelight Stories server if you want. I have received hundreds of images from artists all over the world. Below are some of my favorites. Have fun drawing!

Artie Knapp’s new children’s book, ‘Living Green: A Turtle’s Quest for a Cleaner Planet,’ is available!  Tired of seeing the land he loves cluttered with trash, Thurman the turtle decides it’s time to take action.  He’s a very environmentally conscious turtle who simply won’t take no for an answer.

Here’s a recent radio interview Artie Knapp did on a show called ‘The American Perspective:’

Get the book at Amazon

Get the book at Barnes & Noble

A delightful story that uses whimsical animal characters and engaging art to show younger readers that everyone can make a difference, no matter how small!

Sharon Martin, Newspapers in Education Manager, the Detroit Free Press

A determined turtle named Thurman shows us all that following your heart and doing what you believe in, no matter what others say, can make a difference. This story, like many of Artie Knapp’s other tales, is sure to entertain, educate and inspire our youth!

Kristin Garrison, Newspapers in Education Manager, the Cincinnati Enquirer

Kids are great ambassadors for the environment and Living Green makes the issue of human impact on the planet even more real through a brave, animal hero, Thurman, who literally risks his neck for earth.

Brandie Weikle, Editor of the Toronto Star’s parenting website, ParentCentral.ca

There’s even a special web site for Thurman the turtle.

Artie Knapp’s new children’s book, ‘Living Green: A Turtle’s Quest for a Cleaner Planet,’ is out today!  Tired of seeing the land he loves cluttered with trash, Thurman the turtle decides it’s time to take action.  He’s a very environmentally conscious turtle who simply won’t take no for an answer.

We feature many of Knapp’s children’s stories here and this one is a nice big bright addition to his list of wonderful and charming stories that teach a few simple lessons.  This book is 36 fully illustrated pages and is aimed at readers 5 to 10 years old.  The illustrations are by M.J. Illustrations and the publisher is Mightybook, Inc.

Get the book at Amazon

Get the book at Barnes & Noble

A delightful story that uses whimsical animal characters and engaging art to show younger readers that everyone can make a difference, no matter how small!

Sharon Martin, Newspapers in Education Manager, the Detroit Free Press

A determined turtle named Thurman shows us all that following your heart and doing what you believe in, no matter what others say, can make a difference. This story, like many of Artie Knapp’s other tales, is sure to entertain, educate and inspire our youth!

Kristin Garrison, Newspapers in Education Manager, the Cincinnati Enquirer

Kids are great ambassadors for the environment and Living Green makes the issue of human impact on the planet even more real through a brave, animal hero, Thurman, who literally risks his neck for earth.

Brandie Weikle, Editor of the Toronto Star’s parenting website, ParentCentral.ca

There’s even a special web site for Thurman the turtle.

Mature Language

Levni Yilmaz has released another episode in the Tales of Mere Existence series.

This is the best artistic advice you could possibly give to anyone in any artistic situation anywhere.

My latest artwork is an image that is never quite the same twice. I worked hard on it. Framed it. Hung it in a gallery. Now you come along with your paints and markers and mess it all up. I’m curious to see what you decide to do. So when you deface my best work ever just hit the ‘upload art’ button to send your artwork to me. You can get a copy for yourself by clicking the ‘download’ button. You get 3 uploads, so try to make it count.

Have fun destroying one of my proudest creations!