The Best Picture He Never Took
The Best Picture He Never Took
“Now just hold still and turn towards me a little” he whispered under his breath, staring into the viewfinder of his camera that framed all the shimmering gold and blue beauty of a kingfisher, poised on a branch overhanging a picturesque river that sparkled dazzling diamonds in the morning sunshine. The camera responded to his soft touch by releasing a series of gentle clicks, capturing a sequence of frames that immortalised the nimble bird as it launched into the air and darted off down the course of the river to fulfil its destiny.
Smiling contentedly, he reviewed his handiwork and nodded to himself; any one of a dozen of these pictures would look good gracing the cover of a glossy magazine on the nation’s book stands. Yes; the early start had been worthwhile and would surely turn out to be profitable.
Although the public were familiar with the animals he photographed through nature documentaries or lovable anthropomorphised cartoon characters, he was somehow always able to capture his subjects with an added flair that made his work stand out from the crowd of rival would-be wildlife photographers. It was his special talent, and he relished it.
He packed his camera away and slung it carefully over his shoulder before collapsing the legs of his tripod and shrinking it down like a folding umbrella. After one last look around for anything left behind, he set off on the trek back to his car.
Following the faint trail he had left on his way out; he had been walking for only a quarter hour when a flight of birds suddenly took to the air off to one side. He stopped still; birds didn’t do that sort of thing as a group unless they had been disturbed. Unsure of what the cause may be, he slipped the camera off his shoulder once more and prepared to capitalise upon the faintest glimpse of some rare predator, if indeed that is what had caused the commotion.
Before he had even got the camera out, he saw a black circle rising from the ground, within which swirled a vortex looking like a bright yellow spiral armed galaxy, spinning round in a void of impenetrable darkness!
In the next instant, it had disappeared as quickly as it had started.
Everything seemed as it had been, so he paused for a moment, alert for anything else unusual and then pulled out his notebook to take a few notes and jot down some sketches of what he had seen.
“Incredible” he said sulkily, “The shot of a lifetime, and where’s my camera? Stowed away so securely that I couldn’t even get it out in time. Brilliant.“
He carried on sketching and writing, noting as much as he could remember while it remained fresh in his mind.
“Like, I’m ever going to see anything that spectacular again” he griped, choking back the bitter bile of self-pity.
Once he had filled a half dozen pages with notes and artistic reconstructions, he slid the notebook back into his pocket and checked around him again, as was his habit, then resumed his walk, puzzling over what he had seen and cursing his luck in equal measure.
He knew roughly which way the trail led, but when he looked down for confirmation, it was no longer there. This was Nowheresville in the middle of the forest; population, one. If he couldn’t find the trail again, he could be lost and that did not seem a very comforting thought. However, if he kept the sun in the same place relative to himself, then, he reasoned, he would find his way back to his car, or at least close enough to find the visitors’ centre where it was parked.
After he had been walking far longer than he remembered the outgoing hike to have been, he started to get worried; nothing was familiar, not a tree, not a hill, nothing. Although he hated to admit it, he was lost.
“Just great” he moaned, turning in a slow deliberate circle trying to see anything at all that could have appeared to be even vaguely familiar, but there was nothing. He liked to think of himself as an outdoorsman, someone who would always be able to find his way, but for some reason, his karma seemed to have abandoned him as it searched for someone more deserving.
In defeat, he looked each way to make sure nobody was watching him and then withdrew his cellphone, the ultimate symbol of his failure as a competent tracker. He was not surprised to find there was no signal; even that had deserted him too.
“Wonderful” he moaned, ”The one time I need this blessed technology, and it doesn’t work.”
His original plan had been to head out as far as Everfree, but his problems had begun in trying to check out of the Canterlot hotel so early and then their card reader had rejected his credit card, so it had been much later than he had intended before he was able to set off. It had been so late in fact, that he could only travel as far as the city outskirts where the forest began, if he was going to be set up ready to ensure he caught the woodland creatures as they awoke in dawn’s first light.
He had pulled up in the parking lot of a visitors’ centre many hours before the first of the staff would arrive and trekked off into the forest. Walking by the last of the moonlight, he had found an idyllic setting with a river running through, and pitched his tripod at what looked like a good vantage point before settling back and listening to the last of the night creatures as they finished their nocturnal activities and returned home.
This was his favourite time of day, the first brightening of the skies in the east heralding the changing of the guard within the natural world, the waking daytime creatures making an eerie cacophony of sounds as they announced to the world that they were awake. His choice of location had proved fruitful and he had come away with a good haul of pictures that he would enjoy sorting through when he got back, but the self-congratulation would have to wait, at least until he found his car.
Having lost all trace of the visitors’ centre he decided the best thing now would be to get walking in the direction of the city, after all, every other direction just took him further into the wilderness, reducing significantly any chance of finding civilisation. He took a bearing from the sun and set off in the new direction, traipsing through the undergrowth with a sense of personal failure weighing heavily on his bruised ego.
By the time the sun was almost at its zenith he was hungry. Because he hadn’t intended to be more than a brisk walk away from his car, he hadn’t packed any food, but had been taking the edge off his appetite by pausing at bushes on his route and picking a handful of berries here, and a handful of nuts there. However, it had been an early start, and he was beginning to feel that he would have to stop and make a more concerted effort at finding food before too long.
Looking up to recheck his heading, he noticed that the sky had become heavy with leaden clouds that seemed to be directly ahead of him; If he was right, this would mean they were over the city.
“Funny” he muttered, “Don’t remember rain in the forecast for today.”
As he relished the last comforting touches of the sunshine, he watched the clouds spread like a stain across the sky until they blocked out the sun, sending a chill through him that wasn’t just due to the sudden temperature drop.
“Great” he grumbled, “Now it’s probably going to rain before I can find my way out too.”
The thought of getting his equipment wet spurred him on and he shelved his plans to stop and eat, redoubling his efforts to find civilisation and shelter.
The forest began noticeably to thin out, and he felt a surge of reassurance as the first cottages came into sight. They were picturesquely quaint, and not at all like any of those he had driven past on his way out, but he contained any feelings of architectural criticism in his delight to find signs of habitation.
Finally, he would be able to call a cab and get back to the visitors’ centre where he could pick up his car. A quick search revealed nobody at home but there was something odd about the settlement; there were no cars, telephone lines, power cables or anything else to suggest the presence of modern comforts. In fact, it seemed like the whole place was a film set; a recreation of medieval times, perhaps?
Perplexed, he looked towards Canterlot again and noticed that the clouds had become noticeably thicker and more ominous; it had also suddenly become cold, as cold as winter.
“What is wrong with the weather?” he cursed, recalling clearly the forecast for warm temperatures and sunny skies all day long. One thing was for sure, he wanted to find somewhere warm and welcoming, and the sooner the better.
At least now he was clear of the forest and could see the landscape which presented a patchwork of arable fields flanked by high hills on either side, like a river valley. Through the middle ran a path lined by beautiful trees and tended borders; he didn’t recognise having seen anything like this around here before.
Scanning around to take in the view, he was struggling to reconcile what he could see with the much less picturesque offerings contained within the tourist guide, when his jaw fell open at the sight in the distance of what looked like a city perched unfeasibly precariously on the top of a tall cliff, with beautiful waterfalls cascading down around it. The buildings, for that was what they clearly had to be, stood out against the black backdrop of the angry sky, their white walls and golden roofs, creating an utterly fantastical sight.
He stood aghast, stunned into stupefaction, for according to his navigation, that should have been the city of Canterlot where he had spent last night, and was fairly certain he would have noticed if it had looked even remotely like this, no matter how many drinks he had sunk in the hotel bar.
Immediately, his photographer’s instincts took over; there was no way anyone was going to believe what he had seen when he got home, so he knew he had to take as many pictures as he could. Maybe it was nothing more than an extension to the film set houses he had seen earlier, but he could certainly imagine pictures of this distant cityscape winning a lot of prizes, whether it was fake or not.
Quickly, he slipped off the bags he was carrying and, trembling, took out the camera. He knew what he was seeing made no sense at all, so felt a tremendous sense of urgency to get some pictures as quickly as possible, if nothing else, to remind himself he hadn’t been dreaming.
Feverishly, he prepared for a sequence of hand held shots. If he had time, he would compose some better pictures later, but for now all that mattered was to capture the moment. He raised the camera to his eye and framed the fairy-tale city in the viewfinder, gently pressing the shutter button.
A sign flashed up in red with the message ‘BATTERY LOW’.
Suppressing a scream of frustration, he put down the camera and rummaged through the bag in which he knew he kept a spare battery. Everything was in the way, and he kept picking out the same items only to return them again and pull them out once more. In mounting frustration, he tipped the bag upside down with a grunt and shook the contents out onto the grass to survey the random collection of useful items, none of which mattered currently, except for the black and yellow blister pack containing a battery.
Pulse racing in excitement, he tried to rip the packet open, but the heat sealed plastic remained stubbornly defiant. He tried ripping it apart with his teeth, but still it wouldn’t open, protecting its contents to the last. Taking its continued resistance as a personal affront to his masculinity, he threw the packet to the ground, feeling a sense of anti-climax rather than the sense of satisfaction he believed he deserved, before emptying out another bag in which he knew there was a knife.
The pile of useful items in the grass grew bigger and more chaotic as he rummaged through to find the knife and when he found it, raised it in the air and brandished it triumphantly. By now, anybody watching would have found his behaviour certifiable, but he didn’t care – he just wanted the battery; the deserved trophy for his relentless perseverance.
With a maniacal laugh he picked up the knife and stabbed the hard plastic of the blister pack, venting his aggression by ripping the defenceless packaging apart with such ferocity that the battery was catapulted into the air. He thought he saw it describe a spinning arc as it harnessed the potential energy from the wanton destruction of its packaging, and immediately released a scream of such anguish that could have served as inspiration for Edvard Munch to take up painting.
Paralysed with self-loathing, his fingers dropped the dismembered packing and he sank to his knees, beating the grass with his fists. He quickly found this hurt, so redirected his energy to looking for the battery instead, but it wasn’t where he thought it had landed, or anywhere else he could see. With hope diminishing, he allowed himself the unseen luxury of a tiny sob before double checking the pile of useful things and packing them back up, examining each carefully for any signs of the battery.
There was none.
He looked mournfully at the camera and heard the hundreds of pictures of wildlife stored in it all mocking him in unison. Each one that had seemed so unique at the time had proven to be utterly routine, and now he needed to take pictures of something that was a genuine once in a lifetime opportunity, all he had was a lot of expensive hardware to carry around – all useless without a battery. There were more spares back in the car, of course, but something told him he wasn’t going to be reunited with that anytime soon.
His mind suddenly drifted back to when he had picked up the car from the rental agency, and vaguely recalled the disinterested look on the rental clerk’s face when he had refused the extra insurance. He wondered briefly if the clerk would become any more animated when he would have to admit that he had managed not to scratch it, but lose it completely.
Maybe this sort of thing just happened all the time?
He had to concede that it probably didn’t.
“Just great” he moaned again.
He still had the old battery, so carefully undid the panel on the back of the camera and pulled it out, resorting to the time honoured trick of warming it up in his hands to possibly get one last frame out of it, if he was lucky.
Before he had the chance to put this theory to the test, he picked up on the sounds of footsteps from behind him, quickly he looked around and saw nothing because a shrub was in the way, but could tell by the sound that someone, or lots of someones were close. He backed further undercover and concealed himself effectively among the bushes. Only then did he stop to look at what had made the sound and was shocked to see a group of pastel coloured equines, smaller than regular horses, but in colours nobody had ever dreamed of; not only that but one of them was flying, and it was blue!
He massaged the battery as discretely as possible; suddenly the city balanced on top of the cliff was nothing special; these animals were out of someone’s dreams and he was seeing them for real!
They seemed to be talking amongst each other, but he was too far away to hear. As he gawped speechless at the spectacle, he noticed a seventh member of their group, looking a bit like a lilac coloured football amongst a team huddle of ballplayers.
Suddenly, the team huddle was broken up with a sound of others approaching from the direction of the city. If the equines had been spectacular, what he saw astounded him even more; an enormous centaur in the company of two others; a little pink flying creature and a sinister looking black one with gossamer wings that was sounding aggressive. He retreated into the bushes a little further as it looked increasingly like this encounter may not end well, but kept warming the battery so at least he could have a chance at taking a picture of the outcome.
Nothing had prepared him for what was to come next, as a battle of rainbow lasers and bolts of magic were traded between the combatants, some of whom even appeared to be able to teleport! He thought he must be dreaming, but lacked the confidence to put it to the test by stepping out and getting involved, as everything going on around him seemed so real.
Finally, he slipped the battery back into the camera and focused the viewfinder on the combat taking place between the centaur and a magical lilac equine. Just as he pressed the shutter, a bolt of pink energy crashed into the ground beside him, causing him to jump. He fumbled, but caught the camera, one small piece of luck from today.
He looked back into the viewfinder and saw the ominous ‘BATTERY LOW’ warning once again. It was clear he wasn’t going to get anything more out of that battery, but at least he had a picture. Even if it wasn’t perfect, there were two mythical creatures in the foreground and the impossibly balanced city in the background, so something was bound to have been in view when he had taken the picture; it would have to do. Besides, it looked pretty dangerous to even consider doing anything else with the battle going on all around him.
Abruptly, the exchange of threatening looking projectiles and coloured lasers subsided as a truce was declared, or the pastel coloured equines surrendered, he couldn’t quite make out which from where he was hiding. Then just when it seemed to be all over, a group of creatures appeared on a hill, while hordes of pegasi flew in and the earth shook. It was like the horsemen of the apocalypse had descended and he lost sight of the fighting as a dust cloud rose to cover the combatants, although the sounds, the magical energy and the shaking ground all continued relentlessly.
He wondered how long this could possibly go on before he was discovered, or killed, and watched with a mixture of fascination and fear as the next surprise unfolded. Rainbow trails rising up to the sky and coming down on the three creatures he had seen arriving from the direction of the city when this had all started, its power seemingly incapacitating them and concluding the battle in favour of the large number of creatures who appeared to have joined together against them.
Numerically, it didn’t seem to have been a fair fight, but he was definitely not going to be critical of the victors; if he was going to be stuck here, he would need their help and siding with those they had just beaten did not seem to be the best of ideas.
He watched in amazement at the number and variety of mythical looking animals of different colours, all seemingly united together, talking in a common language to each other. Then, as he struggled to take in such breathtaking diversity, he saw the black disc rise once again, the same yellow vortex spinning around in the middle of it just like before, and then everything vanished.
A truck blared its horn and he felt the pull of its slipstream seek to draw him in as it careened past uncomfortably close. He stumbled, disorientated, up onto the sidewalk and stared after the truck as it sped on its way, kicking up a cloud of dust as it went.
Looking around to catch his bearings, he saw a roadsign informing him he was five miles from Canterlot. A retro styled 1950's diner sat next to a gas station, with telegraph poles and powerlines alongside, marching off into the distance. Also it was warm with sunny skies, just like the weather forecast had told him this morning.
Everything was normal, as he remembered it, as it should be. In fact it was now nothing like what he had become accustomed to over the last few hours.
After one more look around for signs of brightly coloured animals and finding none, he lifted the camera up and selected to view his most recent pictures. Whether it was because it was so much warmer now, or for some other reason, but the last image popped up immediately onto the screen; a blurred picture of the bush he had been sheltering behind.
He threw his head back and laughed, then strode off towards the diner to order lunch.
At least he had some good pictures of a kingfisher.
