The secondhand store was a tangle of long-forgotten recollections. With her fingers scraping antique clocks, faded novels, and chipped porcelain dolls, Lila strolled through the darkened aisles. Subsequently, she discovered a Rolleiflex camera concealed like a treasure on a shelf. Pulling it down, she said, “Wow.” The lens shone as if it still had tales to tell, despite the metal shell being scratched and the leather strap being worn. The shopkeeper hardly raised her head as she brought it to the counter. How much does this cost? He said, his voice as dusty as the store, “Twenty bucks.” Her brows raised. Twenty? Are you aware of what you have here at all? Then he shrugged. No one wants this relic. Leave it or take it.
Unable to resist, she gave the money. The camera swung out of her hand as she walked out of the store, full of hope. Back in her small apartment that evening, Lila examined her discovery. She froze as she opened the back. A roll of film was still inside. Her heart pounded. What was the age of this movie? Would it even grow? Her caution was overshadowed by her interest. She whispered, “Let’s see what secrets you’re hiding,” and went to her darkened restroom. She worked carefully in the safelight’s gentle red glow. Her exhilaration gave way to uneasiness as the pictures started to emerge.
The first picture was of the dilapidated yellow house with the drooping porch swing where she grew up. However, the picture was taken inside her bedroom, so it wasn’t just any picture. “Never,” she muttered. “This isn’t possible.” Her stomach dropped with the following picture. Her ninth birthday was that day. She held a cake with the words “Happy Birthday, Lila” written on it and the icing was uneven. No one had taken any photos, so she had a clear memory of the day. Back then, they didn’t have a camera. As she developed the last image, her hands trembled. It displayed her apartment as it appeared at the time. She was standing in the darkroom, looking at the developing tray, when the angle was taken.
Her blood became icy. The camera remained unaltered on her desk for days, its lens glimmering in the light as if it were observing her. She made an effort to ignore it, but it bothered her. At last, she gave in. As she loaded new film, she whispered, “This time, I’m taking control.” She took pictures of everyday objects, such as the park outside her window, her bookshelves, and a cup. However, her heart fell as she developed the footage. The images depicted her future rather than the ordinary scenes she had taken:
• In her apartment, a man she didn’t recognize was looking through her drawers.
• Her pale, terrified face as she walked into a dark alley.
• The final picture shows her lying on the ground with her eyes wide open and a single tear frozen to her cheek.
She dropped the pictures with trembling hands. “No. This isn’t true. It isn’t possible. She was surprised that night by a knock on her door. She called, her voice trembling, “Who is it?” A voice that was recognizable said, “It’s Caleb.” Her former partner. It had been years since she last saw him. Carefully, she opened the door. “Why are you in this place?” His face was serious when he entered. “Lila, we must speak. It has to do with the camera. Her heart skipped a beat. “Are you aware of it?” His voice was heavy as he said, “I do.” Years ago, I discovered it. It ruined me. “What do you mean?”
His gaze shifted to the camera on her desk as he combed through his hair. “The camera isn’t just for taking pictures. It has the ability to see and control the future. Every picture it displays is real. Her belly rumbled. “So what? I’m unable to break out of this loop. “Not always,” he remarked. “You have to destroy it before you can escape.” She looked at the camera and said again, “Destroy it?” “And if I do, what happens to me?” Caleb’s silence was sufficient.
A few hours later, Lila was holding the Rolleiflex as she stood on the edge of the city’s historic iron bridge. The camera seemed to know its fate and seemed heavier than before. She gazed down at the river rushing beneath her. Was she capable? Could she let go of the one item that could provide her with all the answers? Her fingers tightened as she muttered, “No more.” She inhaled deeply before throwing the camera into the shadows. With one last hollow splash, it struck the water. The world froze for a second. Then, as though an unseen chain had broken, the strain in her chest subsided. Lila left the past and the future behind her as she turned and left.