The September Short Story Writing Competition Winner!
Here is the short story that won the writing competition that I was hosting. I’m sorry if you didn’t win but hey, look out for another short story writing competition coming in February, 2022! And well done Loren May-Paul (Rennierenren) for winning the competition, yours is a story of great curses, mysterious men, and strange happenings.
Also, if you wish to check out the runners up to the short story writing competition then you can do so here:
So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you “The Cursed Camera.” by Loren May-Paul…
The Cursed Camera by Loren May-Paul.
The city was eerie at this time of night. No one around to push past you. No one around to shout and say, ‘watch where you’re going!’ The wind whipped through the few multicolored-leaves, making a howling sound. I jumped and ran. Horrifying pictures of hungry wolves flying through my mind. I wished I had a lantern, a candlestick, a tealight, anything that would help me see through this blinding dark. Then I stopped, noticing a lump sitting on a bench. I picked it up and carried on. It might be valuable, for it was certainly heavy!
Once I arrived home, I carefully placed the lump onto our small table. I struck a match and lit our only gas lantern. A mouse scurried into a nearby crack, frightened at the sudden light. I turned up the lantern to it’s full brightness and peered at the thing. I’d no idea what it was. One part was a brown square, which led on to a ruffled, darker-brown triangle. And then another smaller square with a golden circle in the middle! Golden, as in real, solid gold!
I greeted my wife and showed her the beautiful thing.
‘Why, that must be a camera!’ She said, She explained to me that when you look through one part, you can see everything in front of you. And when you press a button, it takes a picture! The picture part took a lot more explaining but I understood eventually.
‘Come on, stand here and I’ll take a picture of you.’ She moved to where I pointed. I looked through the… oh yes, the lens and focused. Then I pressed the button. Almost immediately the same picture I had seen in front of me was printed onto film! This is amazing, I thought.That night something terrible happened, something that I didn’t think would happen for years and years. It was awful, horrible, unbearable.
And so, the day after I mournfully trailed to the graveyard, dressed entirely in black. I helped to carry the coffin over to the hole. My friends and I lowered it in, then covered it in dirt. After saying a prayer I placed some flowers on top.
It started to rain heavily, mimicking my tears. I stayed put, until one of my friends placed a hand on my shoulder and told me to come back to his house. I agreed solemnly, muttering thanks. Well, at least I got a picture of her. That was the only comfort. I took it out of my pocket. Wait a minute, what was that? I peered at a strange person looking through the window. He had a huge smile on his round face, and something was sticking out of his trouser pocket! A gun? A dagger? A sword? No, no no no no. Everyone died suddenly where I lived, my wife hadn’t been murdered — had she?
Later on, my friends and I had a few glasses of beer, and we decided to take stupid pictures. So I got the camera out and took nine pictures of them.
We screamed with laughter. And then somebody rapped sharply on the door. We became silent, not breathing, hardly blinking. The wind howled, taking me back to the day I found the camera.
Knock knock. There it was again.
‘I’ll answer it.’ I told them bravely. Walking up to the old wooden door, I silently peeped through the key-hole. Two brown eyes stared right back at me. I jumped violently, pushing a vase off of a small table. I opened the door. ‘Hello?’ I said cautiously. There was no one there.
‘There wasn’t anyone there.’ I told them as I walked back to the living room. Silence. ‘Umm, where are you?’ An owl hooted in the distance. Frantically, I searched the house. It occurred to me that they were playing a trick, but no. There weren’t any snorts or low giggles. I came to the cellar, where all the rats and mice lived. I lit a gas lamp that was hanging on the wall. And there, laying dead, were my six best friends. I gasped with fear and horror. Seven people died in two days! It was not heard of. Suddenly, someone or something pushed me from the top of the stairs. I fell head over heels, crashing against the wall. And then everything went black.
When I awoke, rats were nibbling on my toes. Blood was everywhere. It was horrifying. Morning had come now, and light was streaming through a barred window. I looked at the photos from last night. In every one, I noticed that same man, hiding in the shadows. Behind curtains, under tables, in windows. I rushed out of the cellar, and who did I smash into, but that same, creepy man. Everything happened at once. He tripped me over, and thinking quickly, I brought him down with me. He drew the thing out of his pocket. It was a revolver, bright and gleaming In the early morning. He shot and missed. I snatched it out of his hand. I shot — and hit him. He fell, gasping and gaping. I threw the gun out of the window. The murderer fell still forever. He would never move again. Or was I the murderer? I felt shocked, and fought with myself. I knew that in the end someone would find me. And punishment would be waiting. I went outside. It was now storming. The revolver lay there, untouched. I picked it up — and shot myself. ‘Goodbye, horrid world. I wish you the joy of all cameras.’ Those were my last words. Before I fell into a sleep that I would never wake up from. The End!
