More stories

So today I'm writing another story! I have a lot to do again these days. I'm working on the 2nd draft of the horror Script I mentioned earlier, as well as my usual part-time job to pay the bills. So here goes nothing!


The Lens

Andrew Churchill was always a nervous boy. He was what one would call, a bit of a scardy cat. Ever since he was little he would shy away from everything. At night he couldn't sleep without his night light. Animals frightened him, strangers frightened him more. But one thing terrified Andrew above all else, and that was the bus stop at the base of his apartment.

He really had no reason to fear the bus stop, his parents would assure him constantly. But Andrew Churchill never listened. He knew there was something dark and sinister about that bus stop, but he didn't know what.

One day, when Andrew was about 10 years old Andrew came home after school to find his parents missing and his apartment locked. Never before had he been in such a predicament, so he wasn't sure what to do. He tried to knock on neighbors doors, but none of them recognized him (because he hid away from others.) They all told him to "go away" or "ask the superintendent." Andrew didn't know what a superintendent was, so he went to the only place he knew of. The bus stop.

Now, Andrew didn't know why he went to the bus stop. Even to this day he still doesn't know, but that is the mystery of how the mind works.

It was raining lightly that day. Andrew approached the covered shelter of the bus stop and stopped about a half-mile away and stared at it. He could feel his heart beating through his chest. He was sure something terrible would happen this time. He just knew it. He swallowed hard, and approached the bus stop.

The rain pattered loudly on the plexiglas canopy above. Andrew looked up and watched the rain drops slowly slide down the domed roof and drip off the edges around the dry sidewalk he now stood.

The shelter was large, well, large comparatively for Andrew. But there was a bench bolted to the ground in a corner of the shelter. And on that bench sat an unattended camera.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Andrew approached the camera. It was an old instant polaroid camera. There was a note attached to it.

"To the finder of this camera" it said. "This is a special camera. It's lens will change the way you see the world. Use it responsibly!"

Andrew didn't understand. He picked up the camera and looked through the lens. Nothing seemed different. He aimed it at the roof and took a picture of the water dripping down the dome. The camera made the familiar click and whirr as it dispensed a polaroid of the plexiglas roof.

Andrew pulled the polaroid from the camera, shook it, and stared at it.

It was beautiful.

The most amazing thing Andrew had ever seen. The picture seemed to come alive! It was as if he was watching the rainy roof drip in front of him. He knew it wasn't moving but something about the picture seemed to capture the tranquil patters of the raindrops.

Andrew looked around and took another picture, this time of the rain dripping off the roof. The familiar click and whirr followed. Andrew tore the polaroid from the maw of the camera. Another spectacular shot. It felt so organic! So alive! Andrew could hardly contain his excitement.

He took several more pictures. Each more vibrant than the last. He was lost in all the excitement he didn't notice he had been at the bus stop for hours. The bus stop he feared. Suddenly a bus pulled up snapping Andrew from his rapture. Off the bus stepped his parents. He ran and hugged them.

They were, of course, surprised to see Andrew waiting for them at the bus stop. Even more surprised he wasn't being shy or scared. "What are you doing here?" They asked. Andrew smiled and showed them the pictures. "You were taking pictures?" Andrew nodded enthusiastically, his grin spread wide. "But you hate the bus stop."

Andrew stopped for a moment and took in his surroundings. The bus stop, which before seemed so ominous, so odious and terrifying, now seemed to be a world of life he adored and admired.

"I guess I like it, now."