Jim Ray Brook, N.Y. — 1984 A Cry in the Night

That night, in my bed, I swear I heard Mark screaming… the sound a star might make falling to earth. I must have been dreaming, but it was so real I couldn’t forget.

That dream changed something in me. I got to taking odd bits and pieces, scraps lying around the shop that no one wanted, and welding them together. They grew into animals, seemed like the metal just started coming alive in my hands. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. I needed these creatures. They filled some part of me that was empty.

Decima and Asia might have looked hard, but they were great. They let me spend almost all my time crafting my tiny talismans of metal and junk. Usually the bits of crap I had, became crows and wolves. It was like they made themselves.