The Camera that could see Souls

Ever since I was small, I've loved photography. Photos tell a story; They tell a story of something in the past, something that can never be re-created. They tell of memories, of a time before. I love the feel of a camera in my hands, the click, and whir of the lens focusing. I've begged my parents for a better camera for ages, something better than the point and click one I had gotten when I was twelve. I dreamed of the day that I could have my own professional camera with interchangeable lenses and complicated settings. I would be turning sixteen soon and in the eyes of my parents, that's the age of an adult. I could only hope, though...

- ♥ -

On the morning of my birthday, I slipped quietly out of bed. The floor creaked as I stood, the rough carpet tickling my feet. The sunrise was shoving bright orange and yellow rays of sunlight through my window, painting my room with vivid colors. I shielded my eyes from the vibrant splotches and quickly got dressed in a pair of dark gray jeans and a blue tank-top. I was out of my room before the sun's rays had moved two inches on my wall, trusty camera in hand. Yeah, it may only be a small point and shoot camera, but I could still take photos and that's what mattered.

A warm breeze greeted me when I opened up the front door to step outside. Summer was starting to take hold of the land and it was blatantly obvious. Birds chirped and even though it was still extremely early, the air was muggy and it was hot. I already regretted my choice of jeans instead of shorts. However, summer was my favorite time to take pictures! Flowers were blooming, trees were bright green, shadows were dark and the sun was bright. Leaves waved gently in the breeze and I swung my camera up to my eye to start my semi-daily routine. The click-click-click of the camera was music to my ears as I documented my surroundings.

- ♥ -

My skin was slick with sweat and I could hear the chirps of crickets in the woods behind my house. The sun was now above my head, and the heat was pounding on my skin. Thankfully, I was already tan so I wouldn't burn. I had learned that lesson the hard way... My black hair clung to my back and neck, the curls getting tangled in one another and getting messier by the second. A few hours had probably passed since I first came outside, and my camera was blinking with a notice that my memory card was almost full.

"Vivi?" A voice called from the front of the house. I shouted and unintelligible response, letting whomever it was, know that I was in the back. "It's time to come in, sweetie. It's your birthday!"

"Coming, I guess," I sighed and started jogging back to the front of the house. We were pretty well off, I suppose. We had a bright white two-story house, and I was the oldest child. I had two younger siblings, a pair of twins: Lottie and Link. They had turned nine years old three months ago and caused more trouble than they were worth. I rounded the corner to the front of my house and almost slammed into my mom.

"Whoa, hey!" She laughed, grabbing my arms to steady me. "Are you in that much of a rush?"

I laughed along with her, letting my body relax. My mom and I looked eerily similar, and we had identical laughs. We both had a mane of tangled black hair that seemed to be untameable, no matter what you did to it. Our eyes were a piercing emerald green and we had smooth, clear skin. The only difference between us now was that our skin colors had a startling contrast, her creamy pale skin looked even whiter next to my dark tan. Oh, and the height difference, I guess. My mom was almost 5'3" and I was already 5'9", with another growth spurt that could push me another two inches over the horizon. I got my mom's looks but my father's height, I suppose.