Reconstructed?

The Curate's Wife blogged about photos and photography bringing back memories of times past when I spent hours 'digitally enhancing' photos.  In a way this is a type of art form [she says trying to impress], and immense fun.

There are several excellent computer programmes available that allow us to cut photos into important little bits, add other important little bits from another photo, and before you know it a new compilation is formed.

One year a little green 'dragon' with a banana yellow belly came into my possession.  It was in all probability cheap; it was colourful, and sat perched on the shelf of a small bookcase surveying the small world of the room that made up its universe.  My first digital camera, a gift when digi cameras were just coming into their own, held only 16 photos.  The store selling them [in a distant city] assured my son larger memories were easily procurable.  Fibs!  As with many modern electronic toys they are out of date before hitting the shop shelves. 

One day the lonely little green dragon beckoned me.  "Take my photo", it implored.  I obliged.  But what to do with the photo?  Days later inspiration struck [as it tends to]. 

Earlier that year I had visited Moeraki Boulders near my favourite New Zealand holiday destination of Hampden.  A photo from that time projected in my imagination.  A picture hatched.

Incidently I called that little dragon Doni ... not a dino the dinosaur, but almost.  

This small story evolved later:-

The Egg

Beyond the water eroded exterior lay another land, another world; a new beginning.  As the yellow centre of the universe diminished the translucent white of the albumen disappeared.

For Doni time was running out.  As rapid growth cramped his space, his source of nourishment became more precarious by the hour.  Doni wondered if he should give serious consideration to moving his head quarters somewhere more spacious.

From the edge of his nose a spur was growing.  Imaging a crowbar in every shape and form, Doni knew instinctively this new development symbolished his future.  No one had informed him the correct usage of the ugly protrusion that appeared overnight.  Living a short life in a tiny universe, which was the only home he knew, had been a period of dramatic development.  A humble black dot that was his beginning changed hourly, daily, until he was barely recognisable from that simple single cell.

Frustration teemed with an acute feeling of claustrophobia filled Doni's mind and body.  He was trapped.  He had to escape before this universe crushed him into oblivion.  Banging on the walls achieved exactly nothing.  Crying was not in his repertoire.  Hunger drove him on, as an overwhelming urge to leave this place pounded in his mind.

Lying on his back Doni lurched his head upwards ... outwards.  The rocky exterior, worn smooth by aeons of ocean flow of the ebbing and surging tide, started to crack.  With energy hitherto unknown Doni directed a massive onslaught at the wall.  He pulled the spur back.  He lunged it outward.  Over and over the dance was repeated.

Music reverberated through his head.  One, two, three, lunge; one, two, three, strike; one, two three, rest; one, two three, lunge ...  A jagged crack opened up.  Doni, his strength charged with ambition, powered all his effort into this, the Escape for Life.  Lunge, strike, rest.  Lunge, strike, rest.

A trickle of salt water dribbed into the universe that had been Doni's home for a lifetime.  White foam curled around his feet.  Doni stretched out ... his legs broke free ... the case split open leaving him exposed to another world.

Beyond lay the pounding surf.  All around the warmth of the golden sand drifted its welcome; crabs and sand hoppers hurried to investiage.  Doni had arrived in another world.  There was no hard shell to protect him, no yellow inner glow to nourish him; instead he had Freedom.