The Photo
- LECTURAS 4
- Votos 1
- Partes 1
Continúa<5 mins
Última publicación mié, dic 27, 2017
My name is Amber and I am your typical college student. I was working one Saturday evening babysitting the baby Holcomb twins. When I put them both to sleep I was cleaning up after the babies and I stumbled upon this photo of with Mrs. Holcomb, the mother of the twins with the Albert Einstein. At first I didn't think anything of it and continued to clean up the pile of pictures. I have seen many people in costumes before so why would this picture be any different. Right? Wrong.
As I continued cleaning, I saw Mrs. Holcomb with an elderly Leonardo De Vinci. That made me stop and step back. This could not be real. There were not cameras when Leonardo De Vinci was around. I may have failed history, but I know that. Right?
The thing that came to my mind was annual costume parties or dare I say it, time-travel. Mrs. Holcomb could not really be traveling through time. It must be some very good photoshop. It cannot happen. The amount of denial that I had was as big as the pyramids in Egypt.
Speaking of Egypt, there she is standing next to some weird short guy. I cannot remember who it is, but I would rather not know how far back in time she has gone. I could barely believe what I was seeing. I pulled out my phone and took a picture. That one picture was the thing that caused the end of my simple life as I knew it.
Keep reading to find out what goes on with the rest of my life after finding the photo.
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Marshall goes by Charlie most of the time. He's unlucky that trouble is naturally drawn to him. Gang leaders and superstars arent good company to keep, Marshall learns the hard way. He struggles to balance his hidden life with his father being a cop. Guns gangs and track seems to be the only things in Marshalls' life and he needs to sort his priorities out. Extract: "Put the equipment there Marshall" my mother said waving her manicured hand with a ciggerete in it over to a corner, not bothering to look at me. I sighed heaving the gear across the luxury apartment trying to avoid the kids running round screaming with party hats on. I got on my knees and started screwing the shoot gear together looking over at me mother, a blonde woman, dyed, frizzes and a berrie. She only wore the berrie on photography jobs to look more "in character" as she put it. She lied on her job qualifications. She hadn't got past the majority of high school and dropped out to move in with some high school sweet heart who conceived me before rushing off to start another family. That's what she said anyway. I couldn't belive a word she said. She'd lied and cheated to where she'd gotten today, and that wasn't very far. She bought all the equipment cheap because it was stolen before setting up a "buisness" taking portraits of rich people's events and then, preferably for her, sleeping with them. I sighed as she flirted with the man who's kids party it was. She was clinging onto the blokes rolex. Her "buisness" ended up with me doing the work and her directing as she called it.
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