“Little did they know when the photographer took their picture that they would find themselves trapped in a painting.”
Noah was no ordinary photographer with his ancient camera. His photos were super-real, capturing the subject in every detail.
His employer had particular subjects in mind. Today was a buskers group down on Water Street. He listened for a while, then set up the camera.
His presence requested, he went to the office. The building was ancient; Mr. Buezleeb’s office on the 2nd to last floor.
Wondering what was on the next floor, Noah tip-toed up that last flight of stairs. Stepping inside, he shivered; the air was cold. All of his photographs were now paintings, framed and hanging on beige walls. Texture from brush strokes made them more realistic. He then heard the faint strains of the blues.
Every painting made the sounds surrounding them when the picture was taken. Conversations, cars, sirens, birds.
He knew now why the camera was special. It captured the souls of those who had made a deal with the devil.
Written for Monday’s Finish the Story.
(I’m sure I’m plagiarizing: Night Gallery; Twilight Zone; Outer Limits. My apologies, but painting started me on the devilish trail)