A comic today for #repostober! this is a short comic about peat for an environmental-themed anthology that sadly never ended up happening.
ID/ comic script:
PAGE 1 (5 panels)
1. close on a mound of sphagnum
CAPTION: There it is again, that singing.
2. look up, see the expanse of the peat bog, the sky above, a mountainside.
CAPTION: Liquid, urgent, rising as it drops, a bright thread trembling, spun out of thin air.
3. close in on tiny bird flying and singing.
CAPTION: Ah, a there it is! A skylark.
4. back down to the sphagnum. Big panel, show a pool nearby maybe, asphodel and sundew and green stars of butterwort.
CAPTION: There is so much life here, tiny and bright.
5. series of small panels of newts, orchids, sundew plants, blue butterflies.
CAPTION: The air tastes sharp. All things struggle.
PAGE 2 (5 panels)
1. cross-section a sphagnum mound, if possible collage in real moss scanned in. fading down into thick dark peat.
CAPTION: The sphagnum lays down a history of everything that ever grew here. Pollen, tissue, documenting thousands of years. In a good year they might create half an inch of peat. Here, it is metres thick.
2. indistinct shape in the murk, humanoid.
CAPTION: Cold, acid and airless, tannin-cured, tea-stained. Sometimes, not just plants are offered to me.
3. blackness, maybe imprinted with leaf impressions – play around with ink and collage.
CAPTION: The smell of it is oak and smoke, whiskey, myrtle, bitter, icy and rich.
4. the blackness cut and segmented, stacked neatly, a person working on it with primitive tools.
CAPTION: They used to cut it, press the caramel-coloured water from it, and dry it to burn in their hearths, keep them warm through long winters.
5. see an empty, skeletal crofter’s cottage, a square scar on the hillside.
CAPTION: The scars they left in the moors are still there, centuries after they were driven from their homes. I watch bracken grow in their crofts. The glacial creep of lichen over hearthstones.
PAGE 3 (6 panels)
1. a modern garden centre, sacks of peat compost in rows.
CAPTION: They still cut it, though, faster than ever. Drain the land for farming or forest, more lucrative landscapes. Burn the peat or mix it into compost to grow prettier plants than my milkworts, sundews, orchids.
2. someone buying flowers at the supermarket, a bunch of tulips.
CAPTION: They used to stack it high to last through the winter. Something crueller and longer than any winter is coming, and every mile they drain or dig belches more carbon than can be replaced in centuries.
3. back to an asphodel flower, a bed of sphagnum.
CAPTION: It’s so difficult for them to see the consequences.
CAPTION (another voice): Yes, but they are realising.
4. open up, the whole red moorland hillside.
CAPTION: A third of the planet’s soil carbon held in peat. An archive they are just learning to read.
5. open up further, to the mountain.
CAPTION: They’re running out of time. I feel the change in my mosses, the seasons stretch and warp,.
6. the whole range of mountains.
CAPTION: One thing they have always been, these tiny, frantic creatures, is quick.
CAPTION: Quick to tear things apart,
CAPTION: But quick to learn as well.
CAPTION: I hope you’re right.
ENDNOTE CAPTION: You can help protect peat bogs by using peat-free compost in your garden, avoiding greenhouse-grown produce such as cut flowers unless they are peat-free, and choosing a renewable energy supplier!
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