Malcolm Lockie Race - Paintings

Clawhammer    ink & pastel

​

“Beat me my darling,” cried Blake. 

“The clawhammer feels good, Yes?”

“Better than the Whip!” cried Blake as he sang to the moon for the very last time that evening.

The other creatures craned their necks listening for a reply.  

One must surely come for the moon was now at it’s most visible..

Yes! In the far off distance there was the unmistakable sound of a cry.

The partying had begun.

Thel was first to start the chanting but gradually the rest joined in and now the whole mountaintop was shaking.

It was the party to end all parties, a wild night, even Thel came out of her shell and became like the rest of us.

Yes even Thel was no longer innocent.