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A picture is worth a 1000 words, but on Friday your fiction is limited to 100. What kind of story will you write with these fathomless lenses staring at you?
I’ll start with a story …
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Detective Martinez sets the vintage camera and bag on the table. Brady reaches towards them.
“May I?”
Martinez nods “We took the film into evidence. If it’s nothing, we’ll return it.”
Brady loads fresh film into the camera.
“You’ve been at the sites of the last four art robberies in the area.”
“Did you find anything at my home?”
“No.”
“Am I free to go?”
“Yes, but …”
Brady walks past Martinez, opening the door the sound masks the click of shutter release.
He’s down the hall and out of the station before the door closes on an empty room.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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feature image, cropped, from Pixabay CC0 license
Stephen Miller says: “Hurry up, Grandpa!”
“Slow down, grandchild.” The shutter clicks.
“Did you get it?”
“Yep.”
Her scant weight pulling at his arm. “How do you know if you can’t see the picture?”
“You don’t know. Not until you develop the film.”
“That’s silly. Why not just use a digital camera?”
“Because this is better, and if a thing is worth doing — ”
“It’s worth doing right. Can I help with the film, Grandpa?”
“Only if you’re very careful, and do exactly what I say.”
She nods, serious in that way only a child trying to be grown up can be. “I promise.”
Catherine says: He did not take the time to wash the dirt off before slipping on the watch and picking up the camera.
Giggling, he focused on the scene before him, aiming the camera carefully.
He focused on the man’s arm as it lay across the sun-lit grass. An empty camera case next to the arm cast a small shadow on the wrist, hiding the tan lines where a watch had been worn.
Satisfied with the shot, the man snapped the picture. Again, he giggled.
Then, sighing, he laid the camera down and started digging the grave again.
Andrew says: “What is it Johnson?”
“Sir, it’s the HAL vision system. Look in the top here. The object processor board is completely fried.”
“The whole ship?”
“Just the pods, sir. We used a separate manufacturer.”
“Then clear all vision systems out of the pods.”
“Sir, I’m not sure that’s enough. It makes me think the entire HAL unit should be re-tested. Gone over with a fine toothed—“
“Look, Johnson, that ship is the biggest project in history. It leaves orbit for Jupiter in 3 weeks. The HAL 9000 will go live in 2. We are not holding up the schedule so HAL can see in the escape pods! Do you understand?”
“Yes sir. I’ll remove them now sir.”
Perhaps you know one, who always seemed to have the latest camera, from their earliest years of rolled film, who readily and happily transitioned to endless digital images, seemingly an extension of their very self, always ready to capture the moment, of precious family, of dearest friends, of scenes everyone would later treasure, yet there would always be something missing. Perhaps, when reminiscing through photos of times gone by, captured by one faithful to our inestimable photogenic worth, we recall the face behind the camera who always thought of us, cajoled us, prepared us, that face is only a memory.
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