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The first ever photograph (standard:drama, 687 words)
Author: Harry HollewayAdded: Apr 13 2017Views/Reads: 237/0Story 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." 


   


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