Author Archives: Baer Charlton, FrameWrite

About Baer Charlton, FrameWrite

As a multi-media artist, focused on wood and the written word, almost anything can be inspiration. How a dragon acts and thinks can come from a little "chest time with dad" as my Abyssinian cat sits purring on my chest at bed time. The flow of a detail on a picture frame may come from a broken branch in my back yard or the way a twist or turn feels on a mountain road. Stories, and characters; well, if you can't gather them from that which is going on around you . . . you must be dead. (Which, I must admit, the obituaries have become a fascinating place to go find names.)

The Escape ©2013 Written just for Grace McPherson

    Grace was trapped. The room was small and cold. The stones that made up the wall, felt damp and slippery. She sat on the floor, pouting. Nothing had gone the way she had planned. Only twenty days before, … Continue reading

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16″ Dragon Frame

16″ Dragon Frame.

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Striker’s Big People and the new friend

Striker ruled all that he could rule. The floors were his. And when the big people were gone, like most of the days, the couch and chairs were also his; Especially the big green chair that was just under the … Continue reading

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An Evening at the Great Lodge

“In the late afternoon we would stop and make camp.  The dust was thick in our clothes. It was so fine coming up off the ox hooves that it just floated in the air until it found a hiding place. … Continue reading

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Going Home

“No miss, not one; all.” The weather was just on that verge of becoming a real spring as the clouds stopped being sources of rain and had become targets of creative imaginations as ducks followed elephants becoming a larger teddy … Continue reading

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Zephy sat in the window, his tail swishing back and forth. If his Great uncle Aeolus was going to come today, it would be in the early morning. Trouble was, the school bus also came early in the morning. The … Continue reading

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The No Holster Cowboy Doesn’t Ride Today

The pale winter sun weakly wormed it’s not so warming way through the dingy snow mused windows of the Hold-up Saloon. Music plays languidly in the background as if from a scratchy record where nobody wants to turn the Victrolla … Continue reading

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