A Pile Of Polaroids (Brallon)

2: There Was Something Debonair In 1979

"What the hell!?" Brendon exclaimed, standing quickly to double take at the photos. That was definitely him. It was unmistakably Brendon in the photos, but he didn't remember ever taking them. "Do I have an evil twin or something?.. That'd be cool."

Brendon shrugged, tilting his head at the combined image picture. This was weird as hell. He didn't even know the other boy he was leaning against in the photo. It certainly wasn't anyone that Brendon went to school with.

Brendon pulled out his phone, sliding the lock open and clicking on the camera icon. He stuck out his tongue as he adjusted the combined photos onto his screen, getting ready to snap the photo.

"I've gotta show Ryan..." He muttered to himself. It was too weird not to share. You couldn't Photoshop old polaroids... Could you?

He snapped the photo and hurriedly went to view it in his gallery. It had seemed fine when he saw the photo appear in the small icon at the bottom of his screen, but it was different when he tapped it to bring it bigger.

"What?.." He muttered to himself, looking at the photo he had taken in confusion.

The combined pictures were all blank. The brown haired boy and Brendon were completely erased by whiteness. It was as if they all had became dud photos.

"Some paranormal activity shit..." He muttered, clicking out of his gallery app. He turned the screen of his phone off and looked down at the polaroids. "What the hell!?" Brendon cried out, looking down at the photos.

The colors had faded from the old photos. They were almost as white as the photo he had taken on his phone. How the hell had that happened when just before they had been fine?

"I don't get it..." Brendon shook his head. It wasn't bright in the room, and these were far from new photos. It didn't make sense why they would suddenly just fade away.

Brendon began to back up towards the door. Maybe he could Google something on the main computer about these old photos and how not to ruin them.

He took a step back, not realizing he had a stack of the other left over polaroids behind him. His foot found them, however, causing Brendon to stumble. He stuck out his arms out, but his footing betrayed him. His legs slid back while the rest of his body fell forward. He cried out as he fell on top of the fading photos, hitting his head against the hard ground.

Brendon shut his eyes tightly, his head instantly throbbing. That hurt so much worse than falling in the main part of the store, which Brendon had done plenty of times, due to the lack of carpeting here. The cement was easier to maintain for storage, according to the boss.

"Owch..." Brendon mumbled to himself as he felt his head spin. Hopefully he wouldn't be spending the weekend with a concussion. He rubbed his head as he forced his eyes to open.

Had it gotten darker since he had fallen? Brendon turned his head, not seeing the familiar shelves and crates of the storage room. He was instead greeted by brick walls and a wet alley. He let out a noise of disgust, pushing himself up off the damp asphalt.

"What the actual hell is happening?" Brendon looked around as he rose to his feet. This was definitely not the record store. He didn't know of anywhere near the record store that had an alley like this. He was surrounded by brick walls, scattered puddles, and piles of trash speckled along the walls. "I must have hit my head harder than I thought..."

The sky was dark as Brendon wandered to the street. He dusted himself off as he observed the street he had walked to.

It was almost like a street in Brendon's town but, at the same time, it wasn't. The stores were completely different. The signs held names he didn't recognize and the things in the windows seemed so out of place. They were so old fashioned for the day and age that Brendon lived.