graphophenia

graphophenia

by r

afael n

ieto

by r

afael n

ieto

volum

e 4

volum

e 4

funer

al p

ag. 1

4

fear o

f the d

ark P

ag. 17

the g

rAND hecato

mb p

ag. 21

An orig

inal s

tory

from

Ray B

radbury

, fre

e adapta

tion b

y Rafa

el Nie

to

in 1999. O

rigin

ally is

sued o

n Nave (J

an. 2001),

late

r reprin

ted in

full

lenght i

n Dec. 2

007 as a

holyday g

ive aw

ay.

2001, Uniss

ued.

Free a

daptatio

n of t

he Iron M

aiden so

ng. 2002, U

nissued.

Original 2

002 Dra

ft, Redux. O

riginally

prin

ted in

Sept. 2005.

All c

ontent, D

esign & A

rtwork by Rafa

el Nieto

(1999,2001, 2

002 and 2008)

with

the exceptio

n of the sh

ort sto

ry “The W

ish” o

riginal b

y Ray Bradbury,

extracte

d from “Woman´s

Day Magazin

e” issu

ed on Dec. 1

973.

Pennywise and its

refe

rence are ta

ken from th

e TV m

ovie “Stephen King´s

IT”

Monterre

y, N.L. M

éxico / December 2

008.

CHEWIN

G GUM

PAG. 4

0

Originally

prin

ted o

n Nave a

nd A C

ollectio

n for F

riends

in Febraury 2005. B

ased a

fter a

true e

vent.

volum

e 4

e-com

ic /

dark f

antasy

sugested f

or m

ature r

eaders

graphophenia

by r

afael n

ieto

the w

ish p

ag. 3

thethe wishwish

original storyoriginal story ray bradburyray bradburyfree adaptationfree adaptation rafael nietorafael nieto

What indeed, I thought; whatsout there, andwho are we?

two writers late, alone, two old companions used to much talk an gossipabout ghosts, ouija boards, tarot cards and telepathies, the junk of amiable friendship over the years...

but this out there tonight,I thought, ends the jokes, erases smiles. the snow its burying our laughter...

god, charles.

just now, I could have

sworn I heard you said: make

a wish.

tom, you ve stood there

hypnotized by thesnowfall...

wishes dont come true, but... by god, you did hear something didnt

you?

“its a special,strange night.

so make the finest, dearest wish ever in your life, deep from

your heart it will be yours”

why?if you didnt

say it,what did?

Five minutes from now, christ

is born. christ and the winter solstice

all in one week.

thats what I heard

you say.

why a wishon a night like

this?well, it is

the night before christmas,

right?

take a deep breath,

thomas.

shut up!

I hearvoicesagain...

my wish is,for one hour

tonight...

please, make my

father aliveagain.

tom,dont!

january first isnt new years day. christbirthday is. his breath, sweet as clover,touches or nostrils, promises spring, this very moment before midnight.

what purer, rarer hour was there, I thought wildly, for wishes. now, now, a strange star burns at bethlehem.

the mantel clockstruck twelve timesto midnight.

a gust of snow rattledthe window, clung like a shroud, unraveled away.

do holy ghosts wander on nights of falling snow to do us favors?

if I make a wish in secret, will that perambulating night give back my wish tenfold?oh, thomas

...what a sadwish!

and... it hasjust come

true.

him! him! I know where he isif the gift is mine! if the wishcomes true! I know his place!

dont go tom!oh god, dont!

and all about in the night-snowingtown the bellsof christmasbegan to clang and chant and clamor.

fool!I thought.he is dead!go back!

but what if he is alive, for one hourtonight, and I didntgo to find him?

a wind took me around a final corner of wilderness where a dark wall waited for me.

what was here?only a flat stonewith a name andborn 1888,died 1957...

an inscription that evenon summer days was hardto find...

I yelled, I ran, I leaped.I have never, oh god,in all my life, leapedso high.

I stared at him, wildly.I leaned insanley closeto peer, to find.I did not know this man.he was old, old, very old.

for now the old man opened his trembling eyes.it was his eyes, looking at me, that made me shout:

dad!

I held him tight.he could notfall.

the old manstiffened, for over my shoulder he must have truly seen for the first time the stones, the emptyfields of death.

he gaspedas if to cry:what is thisplace?

I know thisplace.but why am I here?

god gives us dreadfulgifts. the most dreadfulof all is memory.

he remembered.and he began to melt away. he recalled his body shriveling, his dim heart gone to stillness; the slam of some eternal door of night.

he must haveasked himselfthe mostterriblequestion of all:

who has donethis thingto me?

he opened his eyes.his gaze beat at me.

why, indeed, had done this to him?why had I summonedhim, just to send himback to soils and graves and dreadfulsleeps?

a child again, I could not speak.some part of me knew a truth Icould not say.

inarticulate withhim in life, I foundmyself yet more mute in his wakingdeath.

you?

why?why?

my father, this old man, stood in the snownow, trembling, waitingfor my pitiful answer.

I...

his face had found its own reason. this was hischance, too, his final hour to say what he should have said when Iwas twelve or fourteenor twenty-six.

No matter if I stoodmute. here in the falling snow, he could make his peace and go his way.

...I........uvvv

...........y. uuuuuuuu...!

oh dad!let me say it

for you!

were youtrying to

say...

and the final question was thus asked and answered. why have you brought me here? why the wish, why the gift, and why the snowing night?

because we had had to say, before the doors were shut and sealed forever, what we neverhad said in life.

and now it had been said andwe stood holding each otherin the wilderness, father andson, son and father.

all over the white world the clocks of one a.m. on christmas morn, with christ new in the fresh straw, sounded the end of that gift wich had passed so briefly into an now out of our numb hands.

the last sound of the one-o clock bells faded. I felt my father step back, at ease now. his fingers touched my cheek. I heard him walking in the snow.

I...love...you?

oh, and pa,dear pa,

I love you.

esssss!Oh, yes!

we stood in the snowing night saying no more -no more ever need to be said- until at last our hour was done.

I opened my eyes only in time to see him, a hundred yards off, walking. he turned and waved, once, at me.

how brave, I thought,to go where you gonow, old man, and nocomplaint.

I walked back into town. I had a drink with charles by the fire. he looked in my face and drank a silent toast towhat he saw there.

the snow fell on everything,everywhere. it fellon two sets offootprints beyondthe town.

one set coming out and the othergoing back to belost among thegraves.

I lay on my bed ofsnow. I rememberedmy father s face as he waved and turned and went away.

it was the face of the youngest, happiest man I had ever seen.

with that I slept, andgave up weeping.

GRAB SOME DUST,

MY SON...

ONE DAY HEWILL RETURN

AS ONE OF US...

WE dont wantto think of

death... neither those soul-less maggots EATING

in our mortal remains

...

everything is expensive, a beatiful

luxury... justto avoid the angst of ourfinal destiny

...

dropthe dustover the coffin!go on!

fools!you throw

me away into a pit, like if i were crap!!

and feelsafer withflowers

andprayers!

just toforget

what youreallyare!!

well. go on!do it anyway!

i dont feelanythingat all!!

i dontbelieve in your liesanymore

!!

burn me!!dont leaveme with themaggots!!

hipocrites!this is allthere is..!

this is aaall!

FEAR of the DARK

thegrand hecatomb

thegrand hecatomb

they callthe rising

sun...

and its been the ruin...

of manypoorboys

... and godi know...

im one.

thereis a

housein new

orleans...

therehe goes!

eh guti!come!

hey dude...we want you to ask something

...

that lecture...where did you

get it?

from thehauntedbuilding!

the one in downtownover the

hill?

yeah! I went with the BOYS FROM

thirdgrade...

did you get in?

no! it flewtowards meand i grab it!

how isthat? is it

hauntedfor real?

it is fullof deadpeople!

they are all

with thedevil!

bloodyrag!

it seemsthat gutifled from

schoolagain!

he must be insidehis haunted

castle...

we shouldgo some

day!

whynot

know?

no onesees us.

we are runningaway! want to join us?

what? comeon now!

what a desolate

place!

juan, what is so specialabout thisbuilding?

I once read aboutit in an old newspaper.

that humansacrifice and

withcrafttook place

there...

on one night, the janitor was drunk and went mad...

he slashed thegas pipes with

an axe, intoxicating

everyone inside...

this guy tried to avoid the intoxication wearing a mask...

...but for some reason,he didnt survive either.

how much timesince then?

like ten yearsor so.

it seems likeall the neighboors

run away too...

here it is

it isopen!

get in!

get inrolando!

i waithere...

are you nuts?is getting

DARK!

yes,but...

get inat once!

where do we start?

the stairs are at the endof the hallway

...

let´s go up.

I aaamdeeeaad

I aaamdeeeaad

whatwas

that?

someoneelse is

in here!

upstairs!hurry up!

i dontsee

anybody!its toodark!

i donthear

anythingas well

...

we betterlook forrolando.

stay herein case heshows up.

allright

this is thebathroom,im going in

...

fine.

Iwonderif guti

is in here?

...A SUITCASE

AND A TRUNK,AND THE ONLYTHING HE IS...

... EVERSATISFIEDIS WHENHES ON

A DRUNK.

ROLANDO!SINCE WHEN ARE

YOU THERE?

THEY MUSTBE OUT BY

NOW..!

AND I CANTSEE ANYTHING!

LIGHT!BUT THERE IS NO ONE HERE!

WHAT ISWRONG?

I AM THEBLOODYDEVIL!

OH MOTHER...TELL YOUR CHILDREN

NOT TO DO WHATI HAVE DONE...

SPEND YOURLIVES IN SIN ANDMISERY...

IN THE HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN.

ERIC BURDON ANDTHE ANIMALS.

1965.

CHEWING GUM

MAY I SELL SOME CHEWING

GUM?

GO ON.

CHEWINGGUM, ONE

PESO...

CHEWINGGUM?

DONT YOUWANT A

BALLOON?

THEYFLOAT!

THEY ALLFLOAT!!

MUSIC IS CULTURE, COMICS AS WELL. D.I.Y.

graphophenia vol. 4, (neblina circular)

all material present in this e-comic 1999, 2001 and 2002, editing 2008 by rafael nieto, all the stories, characters and situations depicted in this issue are a work of fiction in its enterity and do not ressemble any person living or dead.

graphophenia vol. 4, (neblina circular)

all material present in this e-comic 1999, 2001 and 2002, editing 2008 by rafael nieto, all the stories, characters and situations depicted in this issue are a work of fiction in its enterity and do not ressemble any person living or dead.

this electronic publication was made using corel and adobe software, digitized on hp 5100 and 3670 scanner through an intel pentium computer.

monterrey, nuevo leon, mexico december 2008.

salvador dali, pink floyd, peter gabriel, yes, king crimson, the who, the electric light orchestra and YOU for step by.

this electronic publication was made using corel and adobe software, digitized on hp 5100 and 3670 scanner through an intel pentium computer.

monterrey, nuevo leon, mexico december 2008.

salvador dali, pink floyd, peter gabriel, yes, king crimson, the who, the electric light orchestra and YOU for step by.