You ask me to describe the scent of fear, and I blush ashamed.
For some it’s a fragrance red and bloodstained, other say it smells of ice and snow. Fear for me it is rot, a whiff of jungle meeting sea; fear is murkiness of mangrove. Fear for me are eddies in stale water; movements underneath. Fear is scaly hands reaching through the porthole, the shadow of its fins and fangs.
After all these years I still have nightmares, at night he visits me. The creature of the Black Lagoon.
And you still insists that we should go to Amazonas?
The first thing I see with a tropical picture like this is not paradise but memories of watching parts of “The creature of the black lagoon”. I’m not a fan of horror movies but images from that one have disturbed my sleep many times. I have never watched it as an adult, but today I think I would laugh at the pictures.
Rochelle selects the picture, and the example. The rest of us come up with a 100 word story that we find from the image. Friday Fictioneers starts on Wednesday and gives you the whole week to read and comment. I try my best.
February 7, 2018