I’ve recently gotten sucked into picture collages. I love taping together photos digitally in order to show a glimpse into a story; it gives me a tangibility to work with, and it is just plain fun. 😀 The idea fish have been nibbling again, and I decided to catch a few small fry today. 😀
Starting with Bridled…
(Words copyright © Eric Peters.)
Lis would have laughed at him, his clever Lis. He tried to stare harder into the horizon. Ice brimmed hot in his vision, and he tried to turn back the crash of the miniature salt tide.
And then the surf pulled back, as if intimidated by the intensity of his thoughts.
The wave was coming. The regular pounding of the surf was shifting, crashing, building.
He jolted to his feet as panic began to assail him, and found he could not run. He thrashed and twisted, strangled yells escaping him as the wave surged, crashing and leaping forwards. The sound was overwhelming his ears, pounding and pounding. He tried to scream above the noise, desperately whirling to get his feet to move.
“No, no, no! Get away, get away! Get away from the—“
He flung himself up, shouting in the light of his bare motel room. “Get away from the water!” Doubled over, trying to keep from screaming in panic and pain, he shook with sweat. He pressed his right hand against his side, trying to breathe. In, out. In, out. He could feel the fright inside his body increasing with every tick. In, out. In, out.
I can’t even do that right—no, no, focus, Hawkes. In. Out.
The world blurred and shifted like hurricane vision, roaring. Black and grey slashed and narrowed into his vision. He instinctively leaned towards his dresser and fumbled with a tab of pills, fighting the rise and fall of the room around him. Downing two with a hasty gulp of water, he set his jaw and tried to calm his agitated breathing through sheer will alone.
Mika/Pied Piper is possibly one of my favorite female characters I’ve ever developed. She’s the sort of superhero that is borderline insane. By concentrating on a thing’s essence, she can temporarily rewrite its appearance. The insanity element comes in through constantly having to absorb information (sights, smells, sounds) and music is what draws her back. Also, she dyes her hair. Nearly twice a month, every week if it’s a bad one.
This last story collage doesn’t have a title, and is all very tentative. In theory, though, it’s supposed to be in the general genres of A. A. Milne or Cottleston Pie. I can tell you one thing, though, and that is the fact that Lillian Grace has an elephant.
Thoughts? Are all of these horribly boring, or does one strike your fancy? 😀