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|The first ever photograph (standard:drama, 687 words)|
|Author: Harry Holleway||Added: Apr 13 2017||Views/Reads: 111/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|one man's reaction to a new phenomenon|
The First Ever Photograph by B.G. Drummer I opened the envelope and withdrew its contents, a single image of a woman with no letter of explanation. I edged closer to the oil lamp, as the dim light in the drawing room did not afford a clear view of the image. It is a strange feeling to hold in my possession a woman I have never met. Why I should receive this is unimportant, and I gave no thought to the source, such was the affect it had on me. The beauty and sadness of the image is of little consequence. I know this woman to be no longer of this earth, neither has she ascended to the heaven mere mortals kill and die for, in the name of their god. I know this, for I hold her here in my hands and they tremble at the wondrous glory that is she. A glory far beyond anything man with his idols and celestial fantasies, could hope to understand. I will not subject her to the moral putrefaction of the nefarious hordes that stalk this earth. My home is her sanctuary and I her guardian. Food and sleep were intrusions I could not allow to come between us. Days would pass without my eating or drinking. I dared not close my eyes lest her image should leave me. I curse and bless the hand that shaped her image, how dare they be in the same room with her exalted presence. Yet I concede, were it not so I should never know this great love that dwells within me. It is not the love of romantic novelists or dreams of young maidens I speak of, the herds in the field know that same love. There is no yearning in my loins for this beloved. The beast does not rise to debase her. She is more than woman, more than humanity, she is my eternal as I am hers. She is here, standing before me. I prostrate myself that she may know I am her servant. Her image is my sustainment, and I must feast on her magnificence. I stand to greet her, but to my dismay, she is gone. I fall to my knees and beg forgiveness, for I am impure and undeserving. "Fear not my love, I shall rid myself of these impurities. See the blade in my hand, the same blade I used to open the carriage that brought you here, it is with this I shall dismember these foul appendages that offend thee. It is done, I am pure, Come my love, I stand before the sacred place from which you appeared, Let me be forever in thy glory." I am perplexed, you do not answer me, and a wretched creature is in your place, an abomination of nature so pitiful, it would be an act of mercy to end it's miserable existence. The creature mimics my every move. I am annoyed and venture forth to confront it until we stand face - to - face. Its lips are still, yet I hear a voice chastising and mocking me. It accuses my beloved of many injurious acts towards me, it calls her harlot and purveyor of evil. I have no desire to hear of these things, but I know the creature, and he would not lie to me. It was not sadness in her likeness, but contentment from foul deeds, that give her pleasure. Foolish are men to love a woman as I have, to do so is to empower her and she will use the purity of that love as a bludgeon against you. I fear I am dying and therefore must remove the evil from this house. The malevolent spirit shall not gloat upon my demise. She will leave as she came, for I have it not in my heart to destroy her. I shall prepare a carriage bearing the name and abode of her next victim, and be sure he is a great distance from my friends. "Soon evil one, you will meet his most gracious majesty, King George the third, King of England." Tweet
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