I’ve always loved taking pictures. They allowed me to capture a single moment of the worlds around me. I always bring my camera on vacation, and I always end up with at least a couple of good photos. My mom liked them too. They would always say something like "Oh, I really like that flower!" or "Mark, I really think that water looks really beautiful!"
I just came back from a trip to the Grand Canyon and I was excited to look through my photos on my computer. Scrolling through my photos, I saw something that caught my attention. In a photo of my mom standing at the edge of the canyon, I think I saw a face peeking out of the bushes. I looked again, then it was gone. Creeped out, I looked at the photo again, admiring the beauty of the canyon. As I looked around, the thing that I thought was a face appeared again. I looked at the place where the face was again, and it disappeared again. What the crap? I thought. The face was devoid of any emotion, just staring emptily into space. Extremely creeped out now, I closed the computer and gave it to my mom to get it developed.
Later that night, I decided to tell Mom about this. I showed him the photo and told him to look at the photo, but try to see the face. She said that he saw nothing, but she really liked the photo itself. When I looked again, the face seemed different. The face was was very pale, like it had been dunked and soaked in whitewash. I showed my mom the photo, but she didn't see the face either.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the guy in the picture. Is that a guy, and if it is, then who is he and what is he doing hiding in the bushes? How come the face seemed to be changing? I tried to convince himself that it was just some random normal guy, hiding in the bushes doing whatever, but my brain just wouldn't believe it.
Today was my birthday, and my mom is going to take me to the dog pound for a dog, I’ve always begged my mom for a dog.
“I want this one,” I said
“Sure! That one seems cute,” My mom said.
I had just seen a border retriever that was watching me with a cute smile. I went to go try and pet the border retriever. As I stuck my hand through the bars, the dog immediately came over to me and rubbed its head against my hand affectionately. I smiled as I gave him an ear scratch.
"I think I'll name you Francis," Francis was my dad, who died a couple years ago because of a drunk driver. I think that this dog is a lot like my dad; strong, hardworking, and very loving.
That evening, I went to look at the photo again, to see if that guy was still there. It wasn't on my desk, where I had left it. I was about to ask my mom if she took it, when Francis came trotting by with the photo in his mouth. The only part he chewed off was the part where the face had been.
That night, I lay in my bed, awake. I can't sleep tonight, for some reason. I just have this sense of dread, like something bad is going to happen, just I don't know what. All of a sudden, my door creaked open. Petrified with fear, I stopped breathing and lay as still as possible. Nothing happened for a long time, and I felt like I was having a staring contest with the Grim Reaper. Cautiously, I looked up at the door. Francis, with a big silly grin, stood there, looking at me. When he saw me looking at him, he tilted his head and leaped onto my bed. His eyes flickered red for a moment, then stopped. A few moments later, his eyes flickered red some more, then stayed red. Francis put his paws on my chest, pinning me down. Suddenly, his jaw opened and closed around my neck and squeezed.
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