Not this past Sunday, but the Sunday before, it snowed where I live. Out of nowhere, two long peels of thunder shook the entire county area. Never in my memory do I recall it ever thundering while it snowed. I just assumed that was the Midwest for you. A couple days later, I learned the phenomenon was called “thundersnow.” All I could think of was how cool of a character name that sounded. Hence, my debut character profile for a woman named Thundersnow:

Two storms rolled into one. One of thunder, one of snow. One woman with a split personality. One of love, one of hate. A single being where opposites collide. A single being where darkness hides. But not everything is as it seems. Whether she’s being nice or mean.

Thunderstorms usually come in summer, when everything is yellow, hot, and noisy as people spend too much time in the sun. Snowstorms typically come in winter, when everything is white, cool, and quiet as snow blankets the ground. Lightning can be fierce, electric. Lightning can be death. Snow can be soft, tender. Snow can be pure.

However, her harshness does not come from violent summer nights, just as her gentleness doesn’t come from cuddly winter days. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. If that’s how the personalities decide themselves at that given time.

Not much is known on where she comes from. No one can say where she goes. She’s as free as any storm, moving where she pleases. Harassing or helping those she sees fit. She’s a hero and a villain, a savior and a destroyer. Her presence welcomed and shunned in the same places.

Such is the conundrum of Thundersnow.



Wonder Woman

Wonder Woman

In celebration of seeing Wonder Woman, I decided to share this piece I drew back in 2012, during my first semester of college. It was the first project my drawing class had been assigned. The task was to draw something we felt represented ourselves, our style, and our inspiration. I chose to recreate a picture done by Jim Lee, one of my favorite DC Comics artists.

Wonder Woman has always been more than just a comic book character to me. Outside of my mom, she was the only real female figure I had. And she taught me many things. True strength comes from within, not from your muscles. No matter what size I am, I can still do anything I set my mind toward. All I need is love, compassion, and the courage to be myself. And lastly, I don’t have to be Wonder Woman to be a wonderful woman.

I won’t lie. I cried quite a bit when I saw the Wonder Woman movie. One of my childhood icons was now more than animated character or a drawing on a page. She was on a big screen in live action. She became real. That movie was everything I could have asked for and more. I was so happy to see my hero, that I couldn’t help but cry.

This is one of the things I love about books/comics/TV shows/video games/movies, etc. Usually, everyone finds their hero. That one character that stands out the most to them. The one that connects with them the most. People learn from these characters, are inspired to be their best by these characters. The list could go on.

I know there’s a difference between the real world and fantasy. I am not blind to my everyday responsibilities. But whether it’s reading a book or comic to forget myself for a little while, whether it’s playing a video game to release my frustration, whether it’s writing stories or poems to vent my feelings, fiction does help me get through this thing we call life. Just as music does. Just as chatting with family and friends does. And Wonder Woman? Well. She’s an aspect of fiction that’s helped me the most.


He never came to save me. Though he promised he would. Lord knew I couldn’t save myself. That’s how the bandits came for me, tied me up, beat me, and chained me in a cage. I existed as nothing more than their entertainment. They gave me just enough food and water to keep me alive. When they grew bored, I became their punching bag. Only to be chained again. I received no water for bathing. All the blood, sweat, and dirt became one with my flesh. Mornings brought me no hope, and nights only brought terrors. The vicious cycle lasted fifty three days.

Day forty brought a small change. The leader of the three bandits left a small knife in the cage with me. I knew what they wanted. They wanted me to kill myself for their pleasure. While I preferred death, I couldn’t find the courage to turn the knife against myself. And though I had lost hope long ago that he would come save me, I couldn’t give the monsters the satisfaction of watching a pitiful suicide. The following thirteen days found me alone in the cage. They never beat me after that. My ragged frame couldn’t hold their abuse anymore.

On the fifty-third night, something clicked. Or rather, snapped. The bandits passed out in drunken stupors after a merry day of pillaging. They had grown quite accustomed to my weak, subserviant state, leaving the cage unlocked. The knife looked rather friendly. Snatching it, I pried off my bonds. Ignored the fresh blood trickling down my appendages from accidental gouging. My hair, matted against my face, covered one eye and part of the other, but I could see the glowing fire. My demons came to me then. Whispered of the great things I could do if I set myself free. Nobody else would save me, so why not save myself? It was a good plan.

Shaking hands grasped the knife tighter as I crept from the cage. My whole body trembled. I limped towards the three slumbering fools. Slit their throats and left their bodies to the fire. It was the first time I had killed, and it felt rather pleasant. My sense of smell had become obsolete because I couldn’t stand my foul stench. I didn’t get the victory scent of burning corpses. So I made my way to find a village. My dead leg kept my progress slow, but I found a quaint town by the following evening.

No one welcomed me. They all ran inside, shut their windows, closed their shops. All I wanted was food and shelter. All I wanted was care. A puddle in the road revealed my horrific reflection. I had become a monster. The demons whispered again. These people weren’t going to help me. They shunned me. They wouldn’t save me. He certainly wasn’t going to come save me. I needed to save myself. It was a good plan. An anger came over me. One I had never felt before. I gave in. Grabbed the nearest torch and ran around, setting the naughty town on fire.

My demons were pleased. I was pleased. It felt good, taking control of my own life. Becoming my own savior. For the first time in a long time, I felt free. Only because I freed myself. I saved me. No one else. Not even him. For another fifty three days, I ventured from town to town. Many law enforcers tried stopping me. But I saved myself. Every time. I saved myself. Even if it meant death and destruction for everyone else. I became the disgusting maniac everybody feared.

On the fifty-fourth day, I saw someone I never thought I would see again. He came up the road. It took him too long for him to recognize me. “You always wanted me to be independent,” I screamed. I held out my arms. “Here I am!” The despair in his eyes filled me with joy. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he called. He refused to come any closer to my nasty presence. My hands clenched. “Not hard enough. I was in the same place for fifty three days! I waited, hoped you would come rescue me, but you never came.” Now he inched towards me, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. “I know.” “You don’t know!” “But you’re free?”

I snarled. “Yes. My demons freed me when you were nowehere to be found. I saved myself. I have no need for you anymore.” I could see this cut him. Cut him…. I whipped out the knife. His eyes begged for mercy. “Please.” I moved around him and held the blade against his neck. “I take it back. I’m not free. Not while you’re alive. You’re a reminder of my pathetic dependence.” My voice lowered next to his ear. “You act like you’re so brave and strong. You’re no hero. You couldn’t save me. Now I’m the hero of my life. That makes you my villain.” Without a second thought, I drew the knife across his flesh. Let his body fall to the ground as I licked the blood off my weapon. “Looks like I’m saved.”