Part of what photography brings me is the chance to play a role in a story. Here's something I wrote and photographed just for fun. Enjoy!
“Is that blood?”
My eyes blurred at the sight of the door handle, partially covered in a foreign, liquid, red substance.
I slow blinked to hopefully end the trick my eyes were playing. But the image was unchanged. The red liquid glistened in the light from the street lamp and I stood frozen in the cold breeze outside my front door.
A rush of warm energy flooded my body. Now was the time to run for help, run for safety. Or just run.
“I can’t leave without her,” I said shaking. Steph was still inside. Or at least she was supposed to be home by now. I was hoping tonight would be memorable. But not like this.
I faintly tapped the door, which was already ajar. It swung slowly and made a muffled screech as it came to a rest halfway open. I made myself as thin as possible and slid through the opening.
The house was dark and I stood alone. A small reading lamp splashed a faint trail of light through a doorway that lead to the office on the far side of the house.
“We never use that room,” I thought to myself. At this point I couldn’t open my mouth to make even the faintest of whispers.
“What if…” I couldn’t finish the thought. I need to protect her. I need to find her.
I carefully tiptoed though the foyer and reached the kitchen. Slowly, I pulled out a knife from the counter-top block. My wrist tightened around the handle. I could feel the cold steel, blunt edge of the back of the blade. I felt that before. But this was different.
I stood in silence, hoping to hear anything that would illuminate the darkness. Only the low hum of the refrigerator danced with the still air.
I have to find her.
And then the silence was broken, shattered. A faint click came from the office and the light inside was extinguished.
Now I was trapped. Trapped between the fear that was now racing over my skin and the burning need to make sure Steph was okay.
I have to find her.
I took a tiny, trembling step forward. The handle of the blade throbbed in my ever tightening grasp. And that’s when I realized my other hand was already holding onto something. On my way home I stopped to buy roses for Steph. It was supposed to be a surprise. The fresh red roses were still hidden from view behind my back. I hadn’t noticed.
I have to find her. I have to help her. I have to.