9.03.2004
sept. 3rd, 04.
friday.
2.38pm
music: yellow by coldplay.
mood: eh.
objective: ghost story.
+++
there it was again; he'd caught a glimpse a couple times before. even then he'd always forgotten his camera, or the batteries went dead just as he switched it on. contemplating on the 35mm, he took a few more quiet steps. the light from some far off subject illuminating the surrounding forest, smoke masking his vision, making everything look surreal.
he strained his eyes to work; if he sat there long enough perhaps he could capture it - then finally his friend derek would believe him. either that or think he had some skill with photoshop.
a flash of that bright green again, the long raven hair. it was a woman, that much he could perceive. he would get a picture, even if it had to kill him. this was the second year this had happened. camera malfunction #168.
moving onto #169.
+++
three months later . . .
the young man never caught the image, but he had the chance to meet with the mysterious woman of the forest. she wasn't exactly like any woman he had ever met before. beautiful, intelligent, soft-spoken yet hard-edged. a fire burned in her eyes where it didn't belong, for she was blind, her vision lost to a sickness years before. she never allowed any of his friends to meet her, but he never really cared. her company was all that mattered. every time before he would plan to meet her, his camera would somehow be missing. he explained his disappointment after four times of meeting with her deep in the heart of the forest, and she told him the best images were kept within the mind, where one would never forget if it was worth remembering.
still he persisted; it was his nature to capture such beauty, he kept saying. it would only make him happy to look into the camera and knowing it was her on the other side. to appease the young man, she made him promise if she let him capture any image of her, it would only be one part of her body at a time, and each image would have to be given to her in the end. he complied, but not without stretching the rules. first it was one eye, then the other, then her lips, her hands, a silken shoulder. he would duplicate the film and kept it hidden away. the developed copies he would deliver to her.
one night she let him capture her whole face, a face encompassing great sadness, and yet he could not figure out why. when the parted that night, all she said was a broken goodbye.
he could not sleep at all afterward, and in the morning, just to make his heart lighter, he developed the film he had hidden. under the darkness of the darkroom, he was shocked to discover the film all blank - not blank but they did not possess any hint of the woman in the forest, only endless trees that lay away behind her.
he came to discover why her goodbye was so broken. he never forgot the face that held so much emotion. even without a single photograph afterward did he forget that the only way to capture something so worth capturing
was only best captured
in the heart.
;it's something sophiscated.
2:37 PM
