Fox Tales WK#29 : Announcing winners and a new story image!

---

If you love writing stories then this contest is for you! Write a one paragraph story about the image pictured above. Be creative, think outside of the box and follow the listed rules!

---

Good evening everyone! Are you ready for the next story image? I’m currently at home hanging with little @guthrie. Kinda wishing I would’ve ventured out to @caffetto but I know @kommienezuspadt works better when he’s alone. So this image is nice and fresh. I literally just finished adding in the finishing details, spending more time on this than I had anticipated.

---

The progress...

_{All my drawings are original sketches drawn digitally by me on the Procreate App using the iPad Pro with Apple Pencil.}

---

The face on this sketch went through a mini evolution. Her eyes were closed, then half closed and eventually became what it is now. I wanted the hair to look like it was either in motion, scattered and possibly floating.

I began to shape the face by gradually shading, leaving room between the eyes for a deer like appearance.

Fast forward into the coloring process. I started by adding warm tones like pink then yellow and a little bit of lime green to make the highlights pop.

After I was satisfied with the look of the skin, I sketched out the hair. Then I made a copy of the pencil layers and changed the settings to darken the color which helps me to shave off a few minutes of drawing time.

To finish the image, I painted in a purple background and then colored in the hair. Adding highlights and lowlights which you’ll see in the finished image above and the process gif below.

I hope everyone enjoys writing to this week’s image!

---

Prizes:

---

1st // 5 STEEM
2nd // 3 STEEM
3rd // 1 STEEM

---

Contest Rules:

---

• Upvote & Resteem this post.
• Create a separate post with your one paragraph stories.
• Maximum length 300 words. (I’ll be monitoring this closely!)
• Use the #foxtales tag.
• Usage of the current story image in your post is optional.
• Submit your post in the comment section below. (I’ll sharing links to the stories submitted this way in the following Fox Tales announcement post!)
• Maximum of 3 entries (only one story per person will qualify for a portion of the prize pool each week.)
• Deadline is this post’s payout.

---

WEEK #28 WINNERS & STORIES!

---

1st place // @oscarina “La dama triste....”

---

_{De vuelta a casa todas las tardes, en la casa casi al final de mi calle, se le puede ver a través del ventanal sentada con maquillaje y peinados perfectos… Al principio pasaba inadvertida, pero al correr de los días, me causó curiosidad la presencia de aquella mujer. Después de algunas semanas, comencé a hacerme y hacer a otros muchas preguntas: De quién era esa vieja casona? ¿Quiénes vivían allí? ¿Quién era esa dama? No fue mucho lo que descubrí: Aquella vieja casona, (que tiempos atrás debió ser hermosa) ahora con el paso del tiempo y el poco cuido, no era más que un caserón descolorido, con jardín descuidado y muros desgastados; perteneció a un viejo capitán y su familia hace muchos años, muertos ellos, sus dos hijos partieron a otros rumbos dejando la casa en manos de la servidumbre de confianza. Pero nadie supo o quiso darme respuesta de quien era la misteriosa dama que cada tarde se sentaba frente al ventanal con la mirada disipada... Nadie la había visto llegar, tampoco se le había visto salir... De no ser por la vieja india y su tímido hijo, descendientes de los sirvientes “herederos” de la casona, que de vez en cuando cruzaban el antiguo portón para ir al centro del pueblo a comprar algunas provisiones, se podría creer que allí solo habitaba ella; como un fantasma que solo aparece al caer la tarde, como sí esperara la llegada de alguien, con un dejo de vacío... Una tarde me detuve en la acera del frente, y allí estaba ella, como siempre, sola, mirando a la nada ¿En qué pensará? ¿A quién esperará? Crucé la acera y más de cerca pude ver lágrimas correr por sus mejillas. Sentí vergüenza y continúe mi camino, dejando a "La dama triste" con su dolor…}

---

2nd place // @chinyerevivian “Lost”

---

_{My last memory of myself was a bit vague. I remember standing in front of the mirror every morning staring at my long flowing gowns and admiring the way they hugged my curves. But those dresses weren’t the reason for the light in my eyes and the colour on my cheeks. They were there because of the slight swell of my belly underneath. I already loved him, my still forming baby. Don’t ask how I knew it would be a he, I just did. I woke each morning with the knowledge that he would soon be in my arms. You see, I had a daughter before this, but I never loved her. I’d never been ashamed to admit it. I wanted a boy and she spoilt everything, until now. I used to be beautiful. That was what I could make out from their quiet murmurs. They thought my mind had left me and I wouldn’t understand. They would stare and whisper about the premature birth and death of my son. They said it was another girl but I never believed them. They'd always been liars. They would describe how my long fair hair tumbled down my back in a wild mess and how beautiful my eyes used to be. They also said I had a lovely voice, neither high nor low. But all that didn’t matter anymore. I wore my hair up now and my eyes never left the floor. I had began staring fixedly at it after I sent the girl they called my daughter away. It was her fault. That was what the voices told me. They also said I had to leave myself in order to find myself again. I would keep staring, together with my dried tears, till they bring my son back to me.}

---

3rd place // @seesladen “Her Prison of Passion”

---

_{In a small motel room, clad in a single white bathrobe that concealed both her scented lingerie and sore body, she sat across her mirror and tried. She tried to steel her mind, she tried to forget her pains, her sores, she tried not to think at all, she tried.. and she succeeded, almost. Because at that moment just before her mind succumbed to the blankness, and her hands began the mechanical motions of re-fixing her makeup and hair in readiness for her next client, a few teardrops escapes her eyes... And so it did every evening for 11 years. Until tonight... Tonight she sat across the mirror, dressed in a single white bathrobe as usual, her sores concealed, her mind active, and she tried. She tried to remember this feeling, to drown in it, to keep it locked somewhere safe in her memory. She tried.. and she succeeded, almost. Because even though she never could be free of her past, she knew now that that old motel room was gone, and in this new home, her matrimonial home, she was locked in a different prison of passion, hers... Again, the tears flowed, only this time it felt and had a different meaning...}

---

Thanks so much to all the writers who participated!

_{⬇️ Please take the time to visit the links to their stories below!⬇️}

_{Writers listed in alphabetical order.}

---

“Consuming Dreams” 

@artwatch

”Lost” 

@chinyerevivian

“Juliet of the White” 

@geekpowered

“La dama triste...” 

@oscarina

“Her Prison of Passion” 

@seesladen

“Femme Fatale 2” 

@theironfelix

---

---

Thanks for stopping by and good luck to those who decide to participate!
Do you have any questions? 🦊

---

---

Check out some of the previous #foxtales posts!

---

_{Fox Tales #28} 

_{Fox Tales #27} 

_{Fox Tales #26} 

_{Fox Tales #25} 

_{Fox Tales #24}