Monday 2 March 2015

Photograph


I hold a faded and worn Polaroid photograph in my gnarled, bony hand. I gaze at it with rheumy eyes, the image blurry and the colors indistinct, but I see the scene in my mind as clearly as the day I took it all those fifty years ago.

I feel the sun, low on the horizon, filtering through the golden and brown leaves, the light soft and dappled, flickering as the leaves quiver in the breeze. Its rays are not as strong as they were a few weeks ago when we were last here, but it seems brighter in the clearing in the woods. Many leaves have fallen off of the branches and litter the ground below. A sweet, yet corrupt smell comes up from the leaves, the decay has already started. 

As I walk, the crisp rustle of them rubbing against each other and the crunch, as they are crushed by my shoes, adds a note of inevitability to the day. Summer is over and autumn is nearly done, soon this place will be covered with snow.

I see Natalie, sitting in front of the car. Her knees are drawn up towards her chest, her strong arms folded and resting on top of them. Her head tilts slightly to one side, the same side her long, loose ponytail cascades over her shoulder. Her hair is dark blonde, with lighter streaks running through it, catching the afternoon light, it appears to be glowing. The sunlight touches her on that side, modelling her face. Her bright green eyes are sparkling, her wide mouth open in an inviting smile. Her smile causes the dimples on her cheeks to appear, along with a crinkle on either side of her nose. 

She sits on a blanket spread on the ground, the remains of our picnic beside her. The car is behind her, new, shiny, the convertible top lowered. I saved for three years and paid cash for the 1964 Chevrolet Impala SS, gleaming in the shafts of sunlight, a deep, glossy black.

I take a picture, and out of the front of the camera comes a Polaroid, a dull and hazy grey orange at first, but slowly the image begins to appear, exactly as I saw the scene less than a minute before. I kneel on the blanket near her. "Let me see," she says. I turn the photo to her, and upon seeing it she shakes her head, hair tossing with each movement. "Throw that away, I look horrible!" she exclaims. I laugh and put the picture in my shirt pocket. I reply "Never! You look almost as fantastic in this as you do in real life."

She reaches down beside her and grabs a handful of leaves to throw at me, but before she is able to I grasp her by the wrist, pull her closer and kiss her. Pushing me away, she laughs and says "There is plenty of time for that later, come on, help me pick up here. We should really get back home before it is dark."

Reluctantly I stand up and help her gather up everything we brought. Taking opposite sides of the blanket we shake the leaves and twigs off of it, stirring the leaves on the ground beneath it.

I stow everything neatly in the trunk and then open the passenger door for her, she seats herself and swings her long legs in.  I close the door with a satisfying clunk. Walking around the front, I open my door and get in behind the wheel. I turn the key, the big V8 engine rumbles to life, I put it in gear and drive down the narrow tree-lined lane to the main road. I stop at the asphalt and check both ways before turning left, to head east back to town, I feel the sun hitting me on the back, its glow fills my rearview mirror.

Natalie slides over on the bench seat, close to me, I feel her warmth, smell the spice of her perfume. Her hair is blown around by the wind coming in over the windshield and tickles my face. There is no better feeling than the open road, the sun on your back, music playing on the radio, and a beautiful woman beside you.

We begin to drive down a small hill, I see a car approaching from the other direction, the driver has his hand up in front of his face, shielding his eyes. I see the car begin to cross over to our side of the road. I realize that he is blinded by the low sun, that he cannot see the road in front of him, he is going to hit us if I don't do something. The ditch to the right of me is steep, if we go down there the car will roll. I make a decision. The only chance is to swerve over to the wrong side of the road to avoid a collision. Natalie screams as I turn the wheel sharply and cross the center line. I can see the grill of his car, so close to the right side of us, it looks like I may have enough room and time to get past it. I can see the other driver clearly, a look of horror on his face as he suddenly can see he is on the wrong side of the road and a car is right in front of him.

I accelerate to get clear of his car, but I hear the sickening grind of metal on metal. The steering wheel is wrenched from my hands, my car begins to skid, and spin around to the left, tires squealing. A flash goes past my eyes, at that moment I realize that is Natalie being thrown from the car. 

I am blinded by sudden crushing pain, my vision goes to a bright red glow, and then all becomes black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hold a faded and worn Polaroid photograph in my gnarled, bony hand. Natalie. Finally, I will rejoin her.


© 2014 NoelHC


Exercise 4: Your character holds a photograph that he or she just can’t let go. What is it about the scene depicted that holds their attention? Why has he or she been saving it all this time? Or, conversely, why has he or she made the decision to get rid of it? Where did it come from? Write a scene that tells your reader a little about the world in which your character lives through this photograph.











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