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As his new skull began to form, a circular object slammed into his forehead.
His eyes remained in place, recording everything that transpired. Pulled flesh quivered and bubbled, changing from it's familiar green to white and down to a boiling red. It then pulsated between crimson and violet. The man who didn't know who he was felt the little identity he had gurgle up and fade away.
His skin was untwined from his frame like scattered yarn. His mouth locked in a scream that no one could hear.
White lightening arced and cut through the night's sky. Flesh ripped and marrow crackled. It was too late for defense . .
He would recall memories, but they were dull and faded. The cold tonight was numbing, even for his electrified dead skin. This didn't help as things were about to change.
This wanderer was having trouble remembering who he was, or had been. He knew he was a man made from the parts of other men. His scars would sting sometimes when it was very cold out. But, it was frigid where he was born so he was used to the winter. Every now and then though he needed to bundle up.
I haven't seen the Tin-Tin movie. The work of his creator, Herge, as well as The Smurfs Peyo and Asterix's Albert Uderzo have been an influence on me, though in a very subliminal way.
For this group shot of the foursome traveling towards the Sea of Green , I chose to alter the colors of their clothes seen in the film. Th...
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