The Photographer

I am a freelance photographer. But not the kind you think.

I don’t go around taking pictures of landscapes or portraits or events. I don’t do weddings or birthday parties or the like. I don’t submit my work to the press or the magazines. I have no connection whatsoever with any business affiliations.

The pictures I take are very niche, something out of this world.

I take pictures of scandalous suburban housewives.

No, I’m not working with a PI or detectives or whatnot. I don’t get paid by husbands who want to have their wives tailed and investigated to see if they were having an affair. Those are messy jobs that leave paper trail and will do nothing but bad news for me.

I usually go around the red district areas, places like drive-in motels or fancy hotels that are far away from civilization and check the guest lists to see if there were any people who checked in under a false name or a pseudonym. They are pretty predictable, using puns and fancy names to hide their true insecure identities, and through experience, I have learnt to spot them well.

I would then go at a dark, secluded corner and wait for the opportune moment to strike. As soon as I catch sight of my target, I will appear out of the blue and take my shot, blinding them with my camera flash. And while they are still stunned by the light, I will move towards them and whisper to their ear “I know what you did” and walk away like a bloody Lone Ranger.

It gets them every time. Once they got over their initial shock, they will turn around and beg me not to reveal their secret. They told me to name my price and lead me to the nearest ATM machine to withdraw the hush money, plus a few extras for my dinner, or supper or breakfast if I was there all night.

I do not go for scandalous men unless needed to, and I only target the ones that look like a wuss. The last thing I need is to be track down by these powerful people, beaten into a pulp and have my $1,000 above camera get destroyed.

I am not a greedy person. I take what they can offer me, I don’t ask for their phone number to racket them for more, and I never see them again. There have been a few coincidental cases where I do catch them again, but some more money that they can offer was enough to keep me away from them.

What? You say I’m despicable?

There’s not even a single film in my camera. I’m just working the snaps and the flash. They were the ones who wanted to pay me. Who am I to refuse?

Comments

A Wish Come True (A Short Story)

I woke up with a start when I found myself in a very unfamiliar place. The bed I was lying on was grand—an English-quilting blanket and 2 soft pillows with flowery laces. The whole place was fit for a king! Suddenly the door opened and there stood my dream prince: Katsuya Kimura! I gasped in astonishment for he was actually a cartoon character. I did not know that he really exist. “Wake up, dear,” he said and pulled off the blanket and handed it to a woman who looked like the maid. “You will be late for work.” “Work?” I asked. “Yes! Work! Have you forgotten your own comic workhouse, baby dear?” Comic workhouse?! I…I have became a cartoonist? That was my wildest dreams! Being a cartoonist! I undressed and changed into my beige T-shirt and black trousers at once and hurriedly finished my breakfast. Katsuya drove me to the workhouse. My, my, was it big! I’ve never seen a bigger place than this! Katsuya kissed me and said, “See you at four, OK, baby?” I blushed scarlet. I always wan

Hans and Hilda

Once upon a time there was an old miller who had two children who were twins. The boy-twin was named Hans, and he was very greedy. The girl-twin was named Hilda, and she was very lazy. Hans and Hilda had no mother, because she died whilst giving birth to their third sibling, named Engel, who had been sent away to live wtih the gypsies. Hans and Hilda were never allowed out of the mill, even when the miller went away to the market. One day, Hans was especially greedy and Hilda was especially lazy, and the old miller wept with anger as he locked them in the cellar, to teach them to be good. "Let us try to escape and live with the gypsies," said Hans, and Hilda agreed. While they were looking for a way out, a Big Brown Rat came out from behind the log pile. "I will help you escape and show you the way to the gypsies' campl," said the Big Brown Rat, "if you bring me all your father's grain." So Hans and Hilda waited until their father let them out,

I Was A Lab Assistant of Sorts (Part 3)

Hey everyone. I know it's been a minute, but I figured I would bring you up to speed on everything that happened. So, needless to say, I got out, but the story of how it happened was wild. So there we were, me and the little potato dude, just waiting for the security dude to call us back when the little guy got chatty again. “Do you think he can get us out?” he asked, not seeming sure. “I mean, if anyone can get us out it would be him, right?” “What do you base this on?” I had to think about that for a minute before answering, “Well, he's security. It's their job to protect people, right? If anyone should be able to get us out, it should be them.” It was the little dude's turn to think, something he did by slowly breathing in and out as his body puffed up and then shrank again. “I will have to trust in your experience on this matter. The only thing I know about security is that they give people tickets

The Novella Life of Illuscia Nester Himawari

Search This Blog