A Picture Is Worth 1,000 Souls
It was Sunday when my friends called me up. Perfect weather, perfect day. Didn't matter to me, depression has no preference in climate. It sounded like they had already been drinking. Almost noon, good start. They've been trying to get me out of the house for months now, and today seemed like the day to battle my demons. Golf they said, how predictable. Not much of a sports guy, or a people person, but whatever let's golf.
They pull up in Roger's '99 Porsche Carrera. I thought he had sold that piece of junk. George gets out of the passenger seat and folds it down for me to get in. "How's it going, cocksucker?", he says, douchey as usual. I don't respond. I get in to find Roger's girl in the backseat, Rachel Feinstein. My heart starts pounding as I slide in next to her. My knee touches hers and I quickly jerk it away. She simply cracks a smile and says, "Hi". I die. I simply can't fathom how anyone can be so perfect. It's useless however, I'll never be like Roger with the cool car, perfect haircut, and physique of a star quarterback. I can't be mad at Roger though, he's the best friend I've ever had. Rescuing me from getting swirlied by the other jocks in 9th grade, being the only one who visited me in the hospital after my 5150, Roger deserved it all, and he deserved her.
We get to the course and the security guard greets Roger with enthusiasm. "No charge for the Champ and his friends", his supervisor says. The town sure loves their Ragin' Roger de La Fontaine. Rachel reaches over me to grab her bag that I totally just sat on like an idiot. I twitch. "Talk about a fanny pack, ha..." I say as my voice cracks. She forces a smile. Real smooth, Jordan. Real smooth. We get out and ride a cart to the green. Roger hits his ball on hole number something or whatever... I dunno, I don't care about golf. George goes next, gets the ball right by the hole, and gestures with his hand in a vulgar manner at my face. Yes, we all think you're cool, buddy. Roger is showing Rachel some pointers and says, "Why don't you go next Jordan, what's your handicap". I respond, "Social anxiety". He laughs as I shuffle through the wood numbers of the golf clubs.
As they turn back looking across the green, I notice a dark figure facing me in the distance opposite of them. I jolt up only to find nothing there but an old polaroid camera. Damn anti-depressants. I reminisce of the fun I used to have as a kid with my old polaroid, running around pretending I was Peter Parker. I decide to check it out, leaving the group behind. Strangely enough, there's a photo sticking out of it, and it's still blacked out as if someone just took it. What the hell? I pull it out and shake it a few times as the image begins to appear. The hairs on the back of my neck shoot up, and I feel my breath come out of me as I instantly become pale and cotton-mouthed. It's a photo of a lifeless body, laying across the bushes by the oak tree. I squint to try to make out what the body looks like. It's a young man, around 17-18 years old. I get a glimpse of what he's wearing. Oh my god. George?? FUCK!
I drop the camera and race back the other way, stopping in my tracks. I see George waving his golf club around as if it is a particular organ on his body, not to anyone's amusement. They turn with looks of discomfort at me standing there. "You look like you just saw a ghost", Rachel says, trying to smile off her obvious concern. Should I tell them what I saw? My doctor said there would be side effects from the meds, and I don't wanna be a downer. "Must have been something I ate". Classic cover up. George goes out to get his second shot, and Roger and Rachel stay behind. Roger senses I'm distraught. "Hey man, thanks for coming out today. I know you hate sports but I'm glad you're here." Roger is too good for this shit-hole of a town, and too good for me to have as a friend. I don't know where I would be without him. Probably not alive. "Thanks, man. I'm having a great time. I'm just..." Suddenly the most horrifying, blood curdling scream echoes through my bones, and we all shoot looks of terror at each other. I'm definitely not the only one hearing this. We run over towards the direction of the scream, and we eventually reach the bushes by the nearest oak tree only to find... nothing.
"What was that?" Roger says, keeping his composure. I lose it. I go off an a nervous tangent explaining everything I saw: The camera, the photo of George, the location of the photo, the black figure. Roger immediately begins to calm me down just before my heart completely fails. "Jordan... JORDAN... you know George. He's a prick. This is probably just some stupid prank. Let's just all relax... I'll go find him and beat the piss out of him." Rachel looks almost as scared as me, but stares at Roger with glistening eyes in assurance. He heads towards the hole where George's ball landed. Alone with Rachel. Great, time to make an ass of myself. My adrenaline bypasses all my anxiety as I proclaim to her, "Rachel, I know this all sounds crazy, but I swear I saw what I saw. It came right out of that camera, I saw it clear as day with my own eyes." She looks down behind me, tears filling her eyes, and says, "Jordan..." I turn back and almost shit myself as I see what she sees. The same polaroid from before, right there before us. How did we not notice it? Sure enough, there is another photo sticking out of it, still blacked out. I don't touch it, I don't want to see what image appears. Nevertheless the clarity sets it. The lake before the hole on the green appears in the photo with something in the middle. We both kneel down to get a closer look. I swear I see a silhouette in the corner of my eye walking into the bushes behind us, but I don't even flinch as I continue to stare at the photo. Another lifeless body floating in the middle of the lake... we both gasp as we immediately recognize him. "Baby, NO!" Rachel immediately stands up and takes a step back only to trip over something sticking out of the bushes. A foot... and there George was in all of his comedic glory.
"George, you asshole, this isn't funny!", she screams at him, tear-filled, as she pulls him out of the bushes. I suppose you could say that he did have a big smile on his face, carved across his throat from ear to ear with a jagged blade. I see Rachel's face turn white as I release a gallon of vomit all over the oak tree. Dammit George, you were a complete jackass but this is not how I wanted it to be! There's no time. We had to act quick and catch Roger before anything happened. I see that Rachel had beat me to the thought, as she moved faster than anyone I've ever seen toward the lake. By the time I caught up to her, there she was, by the lake, sobbing over Roger's soaked, cold body.
He had been forced underwater by something large and powerful. You could see the large, claw-like grip marks on his ankles. It happened so quickly, but he was gone. Not you Roger... you were our light. You were everyone's white knight, and you were certainly the best thing to happen to my life. This can't be! This has to be some sick, fucked up dream. Rachel's hysterical, who wouldn't be. I see a dark figure behind her walking towards us slowly. "Rachel, we have to leave... NOW". "NO!", she screams, "I WON'T LEAVE HIM". "RACHEL, WE HAVE TO LEAVE... NOW!" I grab her wrist and book it as she screams and cries, fighting me. We gotta find a way out of this god forsaken place. We head towards the nearest exit, only to fall through a large hole in the ground that we were too panicked to notice. Everything goes black.
I awaken shortly to find myself about 30 feet under the opening of the hole, spot-light shining from above, but surrounded by darkness as far as the eye can see. Ankle's busted, but I can still move. "RACHEL!", I call out in the echoing darkness. No response. "RACHEL, ANSWER ME!" I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to her. "RACHEL..." I take a step forward into the darkness as I feel my broken ankle hit something on the floor. I scream in pain. I look down only to find the damn camera right there in front of me with, of course, yet another freshly taken, blacked-out photo. "Show yourself you sick, twisted bastard!" I hear footsteps in the distance. I see the photo coming to life. This time it's quite vivid, but it's a close up. It's Rachel's face, looking up, crying in pain. Rachel's in danger. I HAVE to find her. I HAVE to protect her. For George... for Roger. I take a step back and my foot lands on something hard. I pick it up. It's a large hunting knife with a serrated edge, covered in blood. George.... Suddenly, I hear the footsteps getting closer. Yeah that's right you son of a bitch, come and get me. I grip the knife so hard I can feel my knuckles turning white. Footsteps getting closer. Come on... come on... I'm ready, you monster. Closer. I'll teach you what happens when you fuck with my friends. Very close now, footsteps louder than the blood pounding in my head. I'll show you how sick and twisted I can be. Suddenly a figure appears just before me. I close my eyes and ram the blade forward full force, screaming. I punctured my victim. I open my eyes, only to find to my horror... Rachel looking up at me, crying in pain.
"Rachel... stay with me. I thought... I didn't know... hang in there... I'm going to fix this... Rachel... RACHEL... Rachel please don't cry... don't leave me now... Rachel... Rachel, I love y...." and just like that, she was gone. I had lost everything... everyone. What the hell happened here? This doesn't make any sense. I'm too sad to be angry anymore. I just can't carry on. Almost completely simultaneous with that thought, I hear laughter coming from the darkness, followed by the sound of a photo ejecting from the polaroid. I pick it up as it develops. And there it is. A photo of me, the knife, and the next life I would claim....
"What was that?" Roger says, keeping his composure. I lose it. I go off an a nervous tangent explaining everything I saw: The camera, the photo of George, the location of the photo, the black figure. Roger immediately begins to calm me down just before my heart completely fails. "Jordan... JORDAN... you know George. He's a prick. This is probably just some stupid prank. Let's just all relax... I'll go find him and beat the piss out of him." Rachel looks almost as scared as me, but stares at Roger with glistening eyes in assurance. He heads towards the hole where George's ball landed. Alone with Rachel. Great, time to make an ass of myself. My adrenaline bypasses all my anxiety as I proclaim to her, "Rachel, I know this all sounds crazy, but I swear I saw what I saw. It came right out of that camera, I saw it clear as day with my own eyes." She looks down behind me, tears filling her eyes, and says, "Jordan..." I turn back and almost shit myself as I see what she sees. The same polaroid from before, right there before us. How did we not notice it? Sure enough, there is another photo sticking out of it, still blacked out. I don't touch it, I don't want to see what image appears. Nevertheless the clarity sets it. The lake before the hole on the green appears in the photo with something in the middle. We both kneel down to get a closer look. I swear I see a silhouette in the corner of my eye walking into the bushes behind us, but I don't even flinch as I continue to stare at the photo. Another lifeless body floating in the middle of the lake... we both gasp as we immediately recognize him. "Baby, NO!" Rachel immediately stands up and takes a step back only to trip over something sticking out of the bushes. A foot... and there George was in all of his comedic glory.
"George, you asshole, this isn't funny!", she screams at him, tear-filled, as she pulls him out of the bushes. I suppose you could say that he did have a big smile on his face, carved across his throat from ear to ear with a jagged blade. I see Rachel's face turn white as I release a gallon of vomit all over the oak tree. Dammit George, you were a complete jackass but this is not how I wanted it to be! There's no time. We had to act quick and catch Roger before anything happened. I see that Rachel had beat me to the thought, as she moved faster than anyone I've ever seen toward the lake. By the time I caught up to her, there she was, by the lake, sobbing over Roger's soaked, cold body.
He had been forced underwater by something large and powerful. You could see the large, claw-like grip marks on his ankles. It happened so quickly, but he was gone. Not you Roger... you were our light. You were everyone's white knight, and you were certainly the best thing to happen to my life. This can't be! This has to be some sick, fucked up dream. Rachel's hysterical, who wouldn't be. I see a dark figure behind her walking towards us slowly. "Rachel, we have to leave... NOW". "NO!", she screams, "I WON'T LEAVE HIM". "RACHEL, WE HAVE TO LEAVE... NOW!" I grab her wrist and book it as she screams and cries, fighting me. We gotta find a way out of this god forsaken place. We head towards the nearest exit, only to fall through a large hole in the ground that we were too panicked to notice. Everything goes black.
I awaken shortly to find myself about 30 feet under the opening of the hole, spot-light shining from above, but surrounded by darkness as far as the eye can see. Ankle's busted, but I can still move. "RACHEL!", I call out in the echoing darkness. No response. "RACHEL, ANSWER ME!" I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to her. "RACHEL..." I take a step forward into the darkness as I feel my broken ankle hit something on the floor. I scream in pain. I look down only to find the damn camera right there in front of me with, of course, yet another freshly taken, blacked-out photo. "Show yourself you sick, twisted bastard!" I hear footsteps in the distance. I see the photo coming to life. This time it's quite vivid, but it's a close up. It's Rachel's face, looking up, crying in pain. Rachel's in danger. I HAVE to find her. I HAVE to protect her. For George... for Roger. I take a step back and my foot lands on something hard. I pick it up. It's a large hunting knife with a serrated edge, covered in blood. George.... Suddenly, I hear the footsteps getting closer. Yeah that's right you son of a bitch, come and get me. I grip the knife so hard I can feel my knuckles turning white. Footsteps getting closer. Come on... come on... I'm ready, you monster. Closer. I'll teach you what happens when you fuck with my friends. Very close now, footsteps louder than the blood pounding in my head. I'll show you how sick and twisted I can be. Suddenly a figure appears just before me. I close my eyes and ram the blade forward full force, screaming. I punctured my victim. I open my eyes, only to find to my horror... Rachel looking up at me, crying in pain.
"Rachel... stay with me. I thought... I didn't know... hang in there... I'm going to fix this... Rachel... RACHEL... Rachel please don't cry... don't leave me now... Rachel... Rachel, I love y...." and just like that, she was gone. I had lost everything... everyone. What the hell happened here? This doesn't make any sense. I'm too sad to be angry anymore. I just can't carry on. Almost completely simultaneous with that thought, I hear laughter coming from the darkness, followed by the sound of a photo ejecting from the polaroid. I pick it up as it develops. And there it is. A photo of me, the knife, and the next life I would claim....
Whoa -- this turned out to be a captivating experiment!
ReplyDelete