The Clock Tower

 

  • What can you see in this setting? Where do you think this is? How has Petur chosen and used colours to create a mood?
  • Who is the person hanging from the clock tower? How did he get there? Who is the person holding him? Are they allies or enemies? How do you know?
  • What are they doing here? Does anyone know that they’re there?
  • Why is there a drone in the foreground? Does it belong to those characters or someone else?
  • Is the time important?
  • What will happen next?
  • Write an adventure story using this image as inspiration. At which point in your story will you use this scene? Challenge: How could you effectively use it as an opening to a story? What about the end of a story? Can you end a story on a cliffhanger?

 

Credit: Petur Antonsson
This is my cover for the Section 13 series by James R. Hannibal, book one, The Lost Property Office. Published by Simon & Schuster. 
https://www.artstation.com/artist/paacart

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1Comment
  • PinkMuffins
    Posted at 17:36h, 14 November Reply

    I sat down at my desk. My drone was in the garden, powered up and ready to take flight for a good night surveillance. I picked up the remote and opened the application. We were off. We flew twice around the Gurkin, three times brought the city centre and even got a free visit to Greenwich Observatory whilst we were at it. But then when it came to Parliament, something seemed off. Yes, Teresa May was probably in ther alongside the other politicians and MPs, but something seemed wrong with Big Ben. There were two figures, one appearing to be male and the othe female. I turned on the drone’s microphones to get a good listen. I turned my laptop’s sound up.
    “Patricia, I can’t take this any longer! Let go! You don’t deserve me!”
    “But I do, Daniel! I deserve you more than anything! Please, stay.”
    “I can’t, Patricia, I can’t stay on this Earth anymore!”
    So the guy was attempting suicide. Not the best way to end the evening. I hesitantly picked up my iPhone and dialled 999. The conversation kept going.
    “Daniel, please. Don’t listen to the fools who shunned you! I love you!”
    “Pat, I have to go.” The woman tightened her grip, it seemed, as all the blood from her face rushed to her arms. She began to pull.
    “Emergency services, which service do you require?” My phone said.
    “Air ambulance, ambulance and the police.”
    “Okay, please input your location.”
    “The Houses Of Parliament. I’m in drone surveillance and I’m watching a couple trying to prevent a suicide.”

    There was silence, and th sudden sound of the emergency services blazed through my speakers. I swear I accidentally awoke the neighbors.
    Then, my screen went blank, and all I could hear was; “Good job, chuck. What’s your name?”
    “Emily.”
    “Emily who?”
    “Emily Miles.”

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