Featured artist, Graphics, Stories

Newmon Berkhart

Newmon’s possibly one of the shyest writer there is. And we all love shy people, don’t we?

Newmon’s one artist you’d really want to follow for his very creative twitter scripts and deviantart’s stories.

I know I do.



Now, listen to his words as he whispers the tribute of a man living on my finger for a few seconds…

Hold on

Illustration : Newmon Berkhart

She grinned, or did she?

Maybe it was an inward smile that only she knew. Pleasure, amusement, fondness: these were emotions all kept within her thoughts, and not verbalized or even really thought about. They just were. Nobody else could truly guess what she felt, not even him.

This time she smiled … made sure it was visible. It seemed to reassure him, even as he tried to maintain a comfortable balance on her fingertip.

To make him small enough, or her big enough to easily accommodate him was possible, but what was the fun in that? The little thing … person … he was a person, she scolded herself internally. The little person was an odd friend. Shy and awkward, he often remained quiet, but he certainly enjoyed her company. Those were the thoughts he one day blurted out during a pause in conversation. It was adorable and pleasing in how he clearly worked so long to building the courage to say it.

She enjoyed his presence too.

Today’s visit would be short though. Pleasantries exchanged, and promises to meet again at some unspecified future time. He was disappointed and relieved. It was obvious their interactions were exhausting for him. Not because of the size thing… well that was probably part of it. But no, she was energy. Powerful, relentless energy. The poor little guy couldn’t keep up, but he did try.

The corner of her lip turned upwards, and a sparkle ignited in her eyes. With her free hand she waved goodbye. As he waved shakily back from her fingertip, she blew him a kiss. The loud “Smooch” from her lips made him blush, then panic. She continued to exhale a small stream of breath toward him. It was powerful for him. He scooted backwards, bracing himself against the cup of her fingernail. Stifling a giggle, she brought her finger closer, and blew just a bit harder.

He was slipping, but she didn’t have her other hand outstretched to catch him. Would she when needed? It was a question they both wanted to know the answer to.