Thursday, July 5, 2007

This is the story I wrote for the FutureNovelist's writing challenge. I hope you enjoy it!

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Click

Click. Click.

“What’re you doing?”

Click.

”What does it look like? I’m taking pictures.”

Click. Click.

“Of what? I fit were cute guys and flowers and landscapes I’d get it, but not the center of the mall.”

Click.

“I’m expanding my artistic view.” The camera disappears in the backpack.

“I didn’t understand jack about that, but whatever.”

“Yeah, whatever. And what was your great hobby again? Luring guys in and taking their money?”

“No! I can’t help it if they want to buy me dinner and goodies.” Lipstick is added. Hands that look like they’ve been in a manicure lately push back strands of black hair.

“…and an invitation to their beds.”

“That’s just a bonus really.” A sigh, clearly letting the other know the blonde’s opinion on the matter.

“Seriously, when’s the last time you went on a date?”

“6 months ago.” The black haired young woman gasps loudly.

“Geez, someone needs a little action. Hey, I’m going to this club tonight and-”

“Not interested.”

“Why?”

“Gotta arrange some pictures.”

“Can’t you do it any other time? Kate, you spend way too much time with your pictures.”

“Nope. My place’s a mess already. And you spend too much time in clubs and bars and recovering from hangovers.”

“That might be true, but at least I have a life!” The duo starts walking out of the mall.

“Sure you do, and a very healthy one at that!”

“Sarcasm doesn’t work on me, missy.” Doors slide open and the smell of fresh air is addicting.

“By the way, didn’t you get that stupid camera 6 months ago?”

~*~*~*~

Yes. It was a gift from my boyfriend, who was well aware of my hobby. It was one of the happiest birthdays of my life.

Probably the last one too.

After I left Laura on the bus station I headed for my apartment.

It’s a pretty small place, and very dark too. See, my hobby is photographing, and it’s impossible to develop pictures in daylight. And as much as my friends beg me to show them my pictures, I won’t. Not because I’m ashamed.

It’s because my pictures aren’t normal.

No, they’re not as perfect or as crappy as can be. It’s because the people I took the picture of aren’t present in the picture.

Their true selves are.

Let me tell you something: about a week after my boyfriend gave me my camera I took a picture of a loving couple. They were kissing in the park at the time. Nothing unusual, so I developed the picture like always.

The picture that came out was completely different.

The background was the same, but the couple was different. The man had blood on his face and he was smirking. The woman was kneeling on the ground and was tightly in a leash. The man was holding the other end of the leash. The woman looked like she was in pain and screaming her heart out.

Another example.

I took a picture of a group of girls at the mall; three teen-age girls, chatting about normal stuff, completely innocent and normal. In the photo I developed there was a hooker, a girl with lots of cuts, bruises and a slit wrist and a girl who looked like she thought she was above everyone else.

A few weeks later I broke up with my boyfriend. He said that he would ask me to marry him pretty soon, but I wasn’t ready for it. So we broke up. But we’re still good friends, though I know he wants more.

I arrived at my place and took the camera out of my backpack. It was a normal camera. Nothing unusual about it, I was the person who opened the box it was in and no one else had touched it before (excluding the people at the factory). It just made the photos turn into something supernatural when they were developed. But for some reason it didn’t freak me out. I became more and more curious.

I developed the pictures I took at the mall. It was interesting to look at all the beings in the picture. No humans. Except that all the kids were normal. The camera turned anyone’s insides out, unless it was a kid. I dunno, maybe kids were too innocent or something.

But there was something else that did freak me out.

It was the voices I started hearing after I took the photo with the three girls.

All I had to do was lie down on my bed and the noise started.

“Help me!”

“Shut up, you bitch!”

“I want my mom back…”

“Who should I pick tonight? Jason wasn’t that bad…”

“Why am I wasting my time with these losers?”

“I wish I could just shoot that bastar-”

“Where am-”

“You piece of shit, how dare you-”

And so on. There were more and more voices the more I took pictures.

The price I had to pay for seeing more than a human should. I had a chance to look to the deepest secrets of a human soul, and I didn’t like what I saw. Secrets, pain, betrayal, adultery, torture…the list is endless.

But I didn’t stop taking pictures with that camera.

I knew it was tearing my mind apart and wrecking my soul (not to mention destroying my sanity) but I couldn’t quit. Photographing became my drug. The more I took pictures the more I needed to take them next time. I got some sort of sick satisfaction from seeing with my own eyes how filthy and sick human beings truly were.

I never took pictures of people I knew. I didn’t want to know what kind of people I really spent my time with.

I arranged the pictures that had scattered all over the place and went outside. I needed another picture-dose.

A playground for kids was perfect. Nothing sick would come out of it.

I sat on a bench and started taking pictures. Happy, smiling faces near the swings and giggling and laughter everywhere.

Suddenly I smelled something weird. It was somehow familiar scent…I looked next to me. Sitting there was a buy in normal clothes.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what? Take pictures?”

The boy nodded.

“I like doing it, it’s my hobby.”

“Liar.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“You just want to see more pain and brutality, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“That camera. It shows human’s true nature.” He looked at me and I saw the blood and gore on his cheek. “You’re already hooked, aren’t you?”

“Who the hell are you?!” I heard disapproving whispers. The present parents and kids had all turned to stare at me. I looked back at the boy only to realize that he was gone. I left the playground and tried to ignore the looks I got from all the adults.

Once I got back home I developed the pictures. The fact that I hadn’t eaten anything in the last 8 hours didn’t bother me in the least.

I picked up the first photo. I looked at it and dropped it.

It was a picture of a kid covered in blood. She looked terrified, but her eyes were empty, as if I was looking at a corpse. Her clothes were torn apart and her arm was in a weird angle compared to the rest of her body.

I covered my mouth with my hand and ran to the bathroom. I hadn’t eaten anything, but throwing up wasn’t much of a problem. I was only thinking of one thing:

When did even kids become stained?

After I recovered from the first picture I looked at the next ones. Picture after picture I saw more horrid things: bruises, cuts, broken bones, blood, gore, even organs. I’ve never felt so sick before.

I couldn’t sleep that night.

“Daddy! Don’t!”

“No! No!”

“HELP!”

“STOP, IT HURTS!”

“Mommy, why are you doing this?!”

“Shut up! Who’s fault do you think this is?!”

“I don’t even want you!”

“I hate you!”

“MOM! DAD! STOP, PLEASE STOP IT!”

All the noises were now ringing in my ears non-stop. It didn’t help that I had to meet with Laura for lunch the next day.

“You alright? You look pale.”

“I’m fine.” My voice wouldn’t have fooled anyone.

“Seriously Kate, I think you’re sick. You haven’t eaten anything, apparently you don’t sleep and-”

“Can we change the subject? How was the club?”

While Laura was completely focused on talking about how amazing the club was (she never mentioned the hangover she had almost every morning) I tried not to throw up on my salad.

I stayed at home the next day. I had a fever, I threw up every five minutes and I still couldn’t shut up the voices.

After the hundredth time of emptying my stomach I found the boy from the park sitting on my bed.

“You don’t look too good.”

“No shit. What do you want?” I wasn’t in a mood for games.

“I want you to give me back my camera.” I stared at him.

“Your camera?” He nodded.

“Sorry but that camera is mine. My boyfriend bought it for me and I opened the box myself, no way it’s yours.”

“It is. See what it’s doing to you? It’s gonna kill you.”

“How about you get out of my apartment and call me after I get my sense of humor back, in say, million years?!”

“No. I won’t go until I get my camera back.”

“It’s mine dammit!”

“No, you’re just too addicted to it. Don’t you get it?”

If I hadn’t thrown up right on the carpet, I would’ve strangled that brat.

“See? Just give me the camera and we can forget this ever happened.”

“No.” Suddenly I saw something very disturbing. There was a trail of blood on the floor. And it started from under the table I kept all the photos on.

The blood was leaking from the photos. The noises came back again, but much louder than before. Everything around me was getting dizzy. I was assaulted by voices, smell and the sudden wet feel on my shirt.

There was a hole in my chest.

“See what I mean? Now where’s the camera?” I could barely hear the kid.

“Hey! Where’s the camera?!”

“…on the table…”

“Thank you.” Before I passed out I saw the kid walk to the table and pick up the camera.

After what felt like an eternity I woke up in the hospital. Laura was sitting on the side of the bed.

“Kate! Are you alright?”

“I’ve been better.”

“Thank God! I stopped by to see how you were doing and there you were, passed out on the floor. I couldn’t get you up so I called an ambulance.”

“How long have I been out of it?”

“For about…” Laura looked at her watch “…8 hours.”

“WHAT?!” Suddenly I noticed something: I didn’t hear any extra noise. Then I remembered.

“Laura! Did you see my camera?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Laura, was my camera on the table? Try to remember!” She thought about it for a while.

“…no, it wasn’t.”

I closed my eyes. So that brat had been real. But at last I had some peace in my head.

“Well…the doctor said that it was just too little rest and food and that you have to sleep and eat better.”

“Somehow I guessed that.”

“So I was thinking about a lunch after you get out of here.”

“Sounds great.”

After I got out of the hospital my life started to get back on track. Strange though, when I got back home from the hospital I noticed that all the photos were gone. No photos anywhere. Only the ones I had taken with a normal camera.

Thank God.

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A/N: I am terribly sorry! I've had all sorts of stuff lately and I simply couldn't focus on writing CTTE...and I've been writing this challenge story. I'm very sorry about this!

But I'll post up the 6th chapter of Close To The Edge as soon as I get it done! (5th chapter (at the moment the newest one) is on my last post.)

~One Word~



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