Capturing Them

Chapter One

Chapter One
~Sang~

I click the shutter button, the sound like music to my ears. Yes, I'm in element right now hiding behind the lens of the camera and looking through a tiny peephole as I twist and turn the focusing ring so I can capture another picture of the one lady bird that lays on a leaf. It has three black spots and a blood red body.

I press the shutter button again, pulling the camera away and bringing up the images I have just captured. I flick through them, satisfied when I see some good ones that I will print off when I get home and put them in one of my many scrap books.

I drop the camera so it rests just below my breasts, the strap around the back of my neck pulling tight. I sigh, looking around me, taking in the trees and the cloudy sky as I make my way back towards the house we moved into only yesterday.

The move was unexpected, my Dad being transferred from the main office in New York to the one here in Charleston. When he was offered the job from floor manager to building manager at the computer company he works at he immediately took up the offer; it meant more money and a house waiting for us to get settled in to. It was even furnished and all we had to take was personal belongings.

A week later and we are now here. Dad left for work wearing his best navy blue suit and purple tie, brief case in hand. I watched sitting at the breakfast bar as he buttered some toast and drank his coffee as he made sure he had everything before taking off. When he did go, all I got was a 'goodbye', which isn't new to me at all. Neither was this move.

New York was the place we stayed in the longest, a long four years. It was also when he started leaving me by myself for days at a time, only speaking or contacting me whenever was necessary. I didn't mind, not really; I liked hiding in my own small bubble I had created when my Mom died, cancer taking her life away from us.

Mom dying hit me in a bad way; I stopped speaking and haven't spoken a word since. Dad tried to get me some help but because I wouldn't talk it was difficult. In the end, he gave up.

He gave up on me.

I'm not mute, I know I have a voice but the trauma of losing Mom took my voice away from me. Seeing her laying in the bed she shared with Dad, no hair on her head, her body only made of skin and bone, said skin as white as snow and her green eyes no longer full of life traumatised me. If it hadn't had been for Dad crying and screaming for her to wake up, I wouldn't have ever saw that image. I would have continued to have slept in my bed, wearing my favourite pink nighty, cuddling my favourite teddy bear and wouldn't have known my Mom had died until morning, when I woke.

I may have lost my voice, but I found something else. Mom was a photographer; she was well known in the industry and at every chance I had I was sneaking away with her camera and capturing my own images. Back then, when I was just a child, it was more off a hobby. Now it's a shield, a way for me to hide away from what really happens in the big wide world.

Not only do I hide behind the lens of a camera but I always hide behind glasses that are not needed. I hide under baggy clothes and even behind my hair, always leaving the long blonde waves hanging down my back and over my shoulders. I don't want people to notice me and they never do.

Sometimes I notice them; I notice they way a boy smiles down at the girl he loves as he tucks hair behind her ears, the way a group of friends laugh and giggle over their latest crush and the way boys jump and laugh around with each other, being boisterous.

I have many pictures of people I don't even know the names off. Those pictures teach me many things, tells me a story.

I stop as I reach the back yard and look at the house that is now home, down this quiet street called Sunnyvale Court. It has three bedrooms, two being upstairs and one downstairs. The bedroom downstairs in a en suite and a separate bathroom is upstairs. There's a family room, kitchen and dinning room plus a laundry room. A garage is attached to the side of the house.

I make my way up the porch steps, removing my key from my pocket so I can unlock the door. Closing the door behind me I go straight up the stairs that are at the back of the house and go into my room.

My room is the favorite part of the house. I loved walking in yesterday to find that the room is painted a soft pink with a soft cream carpet and darker pink drapes at the window where there is also a window seat. A twin bed is in the corner with a bedside table, a book shelf near the attic door that holds paperbacks of my favorite reads. A wardrobe, chest of drawers and a desk is on the wall where the door is attached.

I immediately pull out my desk chair, sitting down and opening up my laptop as I unhook my camera from around my neck, putting it beside the many cameras I have owned and still own over the years. My dad never fails to by me one for my birthday every year, each one different from the last. The next generation of Canon he calls it.

I type in my password, kicking of my tennis shoes as I do, folding my legs up and tucking my feet under me. When the home screen loads, I remove the memory card from the camera and slot it into the laptop, smiling when I see the pictures I have taken today load up within seconds.

I start flicking through them; the ladybird, a small Forrest of flowers, a butterfly and a few spider webs in the branches of some trees. I make sure some photo paper is in my printer before sending them all to print.

Getting up from the chair, I go to my bed and crouch down, removing the box from under my bed. Removing the lid, I flip through the thick books until I find my 'Nature and Bugs' scrap book, putting it on the bed before removing another box and digging around for some tape, labels and a marker. I always date my pictures so I know when I took them.

The sound of deep laughter has me pausing as I start pushing the box back under the bed. Curious, I get to my feet and tiptoe slowly over to the window, looking up and down the street, my eyes settling on a house over the road a couple of house down from my own.

Three boys stand in a driveway, one leaning up against a BMW, a silver one, and the other two stand in front of him. I can't really make them out, but the one in a red t-shirt shoves the one beside him, laughing as he does so.

I push some hair out my face, a smile tugging at my lips. I love watching friends interact with each other; whether they are the same gender or a mix. I've never had friends before so watching other friendships is a fascination of mine.

I'm an observer; I notice things about people that others may not. I pay close attention to detail and if it intrigues me enough, I snap some photos. People at my old school got used to seeing me with my camera when they ever paid attention to me. I was even asked last year by the head of the year book committee to hand in any photos I had of their senior class. I nodded my head and later sent over a hundred photos with a simple message saying that I hope they were okay.

I loved seeing the reactions of the senior class when they realized that someone had taken photos of them while they had been unaware. On the odd and rare occasion when someone did notice me, they'd ask me to take photos of them, posing for the camera alone or with friends, flashing their brilliant smiles. They thanked me and I walked off. Sometimes I would get an email on the school account asking for their photo and I always sent them.

I move away from the window, wishing that the glass hadn't been between me and the outside world. I guess I could have opened my window to take some photos of the small group of boys but I didn't want to seem to obvious and let them think I'm a creep. I'm not a creep, photography is just something I like doing, it's as simple as that. Some people understand, some do not. Whenever I've been caught by a unhappy person, again which was very rare, I'd just shrug my shoulders and let them watch as I deleted it.

Sitting back down at my desk, I continue on doing with what I was doing, hoping that tomorrow on my walk to registration at my new school I can get some new photos so I can start a new scrap book as I'm in a new city.