Soul Catcher
- 3 years ago
- 20
- 0
(This is a remake, not a sequel.)
Part 1: IntroductionOne day I woke up and decided it would be my last morning. Nothing was different. Nothing had changed. I was simply sick of waking up and finding myself stuck in this tired life.
I drug myself out of bed and got dressed, wondering all the while about how to spend my last day. For someone like me, I guess there wasn’t much choice. I’d spend it like I spent every other: alone with my camera, one last time.
I hefted my trusty camera from its place amongst the junk on my dresser and powered it on while slipping into my shoes. An unusual message filled the display.
Would you like to change your life?
The message was impossible. There wasn’t anything on my camera able to generate a message like this. No apps, no internet…no way. But more than the impossibility of it, the question itself stuck out to me.
Wouldn’t anyone, if they were in my shoes?
Still, I selected “no.” Whatever strange force—and yes, I already believed something supernatural was at play—had infected my camera and posed me a question with such an obvious answer had wasted its time. Sure, I wanted change. Wanted it more than anything. That’s why I was going to force it; tonight, by my own hand.
Then, would you like to change the lives of those you hold dear?
I hadn’t expected another message.
The faces of the two women I lived with—my aunt and my younger sister—surfaced momentarily from the depths of my selfishness, but I closed my eyes to them.
Aunt Riley was getting by just fine without my help, and Jessie—
You’re running away from it.
—was better off without a useless brother like me. I selected “no” again.
There was no third prompt.
Since I didn’t have anywhere in particular to go, I walked aimlessly around my small coastal Florida town of Navarre taking pictures of whatever happened to catch my attention. I’d like to say they were the best pictures I’d ever taken. To say that before my death a miracle occurred and I captured my last will and testament in photographic form.
If miracles like that really occurred, maybe I wouldn’t have felt like running away.
No, the pictures I took were as average as any other I’d taken. I took pictures of the noisy seagulls. Of the rolling ocean. Of the average looking houses on my cul-de-sac. Of the vast sky and its lazy clouds, but, most importantly, never of myself.
By the time the sun started its descent beyond the sea, my day spent taking meaningless pictures of meaningless things came to a close and I reviewed the pictures on the sidewalk outside my house. Scrolling through them, I realized I hadn’t taken a single shot of another human being.
That bothered me.
If someone looks through my camera when I’m gone, will they think I hated people?
I should have discarded that unexpected concern. Would the painful future waiting for me have changed if I did?
I headed toward the park. Toward a fateful meeting on a lonely gazebo overlooking the sea, where I was doomed to make a foolish choice and take on burdens far too heavy for my shoulders to bear.
The Chronicle System began to stir.
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