When Words Can't Describe

When words can’t describe, photos can. When words cause doubt, a camera provides evidence.  I’ve known this for what seems my entire life. My parents say I’m lying, but deep down I know I’m right. Photography is an intuition; something I’ve never been taught. Something in which I can express myself for who I am, not for whom I pretend to be. My parents are deceived into thinking I’m shy, under-confident, and nervous. With a camera in hand I’m bold, adventurous and curious.

But as you all know, curiosity killed the cat.

I’ve had enough of home life. I’m not one of these self-pitying adolescents who hates their existence; I’m just opinionated to the extent that I feel alone.

It is midnight. Not sharp upon the hour, but five minutes past. About time to venture out for my shoot. Gently picking up my camera, I lead the strap over my head and onto my shoulders where it dangles safely. Floorboards don’t creak, nor do owls hoot. The only sounds are that of my feet against the carpet, and the ‘tap-tap’ of my nails against the camera. Nerves. They never settle.

Chilling air rushes to greet me, the midnight smells eager to meet me. It’s odd, really, how the night is still so welcoming - so friendly – despite the bitter temperatures. I’m still tapping, azure eyes keeping an eager lookout. I don’t know why I’m paranoid. Countryside poses little threat to a teenager, especially at this ripe time of night. Must be all the crime-thrillers I watch.

Finally, something that catches my eye. A glint within the shadows – it’s most likely a piece of scrap metal at the side of the track. Images flood my mind, posing possible photos of which I could capture. My eyelids clench shut, focusing more on my mind’s portrayal of the scene instead of the reality.

Creativity has never been so strong in me as it is now. I flash a smile to myself, proud of my bravery to explore the night, camera in hand. I’m not usually a dark-dweller. Opening my eyes, I allow soft lights to tickle my vision and my eyesight to grow. I begin to see new outlines, but not the ones I would expect.

There was no scrap metal at the side of the track. Nothing imaginative. Just them.

A gang.

Making ugly faces.

Wielding knives.

I want to scream, but words could not describe this. Not death. Not the sensation of being stabbed. I had only my thoughts, and my camera.

One. I feel no immediate pain. My head feels light, my body fragile. I’m rasping for breath like a fish out of water. Palms clutch my stomach. Warmth.

Two. Between my shoulder blades. I grimace, pain setting my body ablaze. My blonde hair is stained scarlet, my hands a matching hue. I groan.

Three. Terror. Pain increases. They’ve crowded around me, obscuring any light. I close my eyes. Tell myself lies. “It’s okay… I’m okay. I’m fine. I’ll survive.”

Four. I’m not okay. I won’t survive. I’m going to die. They’ve backed off. Leaving me cold. Leaving me for dead with crooked smiles. Smiles!

I prop myself up onto my elbows. A weak smirk. “Say cheese,” I whisper, the dialogue too faint for even me to hear. A ragged breath is accompanied with the click of a shutter. My index finger tightening on the button again, but it is too late. Lowering myself, I roll away from them, wrapping both arms around my camera. I lay my throbbing head down on the track. Clenching my eyes shut. I imagine the photo I’ve just captured. Ugly. Vile. Bloodthirsty. But it shall serve its purpose. It shall be my evidence. My proof.

They might be a chorus of taunts now, whooping and sneering like a pack of hyenas. Yet when they see this photo, I’ll be the one laughing. They were too stupid to break my camera, or to steal the memory card. They just assumed that my one photo would have missed or been blurry. So they foolishly walked away, cackling. But do you know what? Words can’t describe this feeling. This feeling of justice. Content and without regrets, I tap my camera. It was still there. I smile thinly. Splutter. Then fall still.

There is no more pain.

No more nerves.

Just a feeling that words will never describe.