When doodles and words collide

While everyone in the blogsphere is busy pecking away at their keyboards to meet their NaNoWriMo daily word quota, I thought I'd play a little too. Well, not really. This is just an idea I had a couple of months back, and I just thought I'd share the beginnings of it. It is (hopefully) the beginnings of a graphic novel that I would eventually like to complete and polish up. This is the first three pages of it. The scanner cropped it and the handwritten text did not come up nicely at all. I have rewritten the text under each page.

The working title is
Aurora, Blood Red

Quiet. Deadly quiet.
Full autumn moon is one thing.
Aurora dancing its blood-red laugh mocking us.
Mocking me!
That's another.
Simpler times with simple omens explaining a natural sight,
another life in another time.
But how right they'd be tonight.
Blood-lights smirking the coming war.
Moon-dogs sculpting a single eye, gawking, anticipating,
tallying failure.
Mocking.
Mocking us all.
And mocking You! Yes You!
Stay in your Father's House.
For this will sour all that's Holy.
Stay in till you can redeem the fallen.
It's the only way.
It must be.

Blackest of nights. Yes, I feel the calling.
I hear the scream.
The scream of the innocent.
Blackest night, even you can't hide the evil hunger the red aurora hints at its coming.
Moon eye keep looking.
Keep mocking, and tally all you want.
You are nothing, nothing but a spectator.
But keep looking, what you see may not be what you expect.
For you are powerless.

Holiest of Man-born Mothers. Hear me!
Keep your Son at your side, for I feel him.
I feel him just as I feel my Father's presence in this black night.
I hear my fathers warnings even now,
"Watch the heavens for when the aurora turns red,
and the moon forms a single peering eye,
all that you know that is good will die.
All that you love will succumb,
and all that you know that is just and true will turn."

Three thousand years I've watched the sky,
and for more than 2000 I've waited for His return,
but now is not the time.
No, not now.
For what is to come is meant for Him.
He is the goal.
His love for man cues his return.
His just heart will be turned
Keep him away, Holiest Mother!
Keep him away for I vow
I will not let him be turned.