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Greqoh · 02-20-2009, 10:15 PM

Fatal Frame:Hide And Seek
by L. A. Greco
(Loosely based on the cult Japanese games. A strange invention makes its way to America...)
************************************************** **

The camera lay forgotten in an old box of photo albums and notebooks. It was ancient looking, covered in dust and absurdly large and cumbersome.

And Allan lifted it out of the box as if he had found some prized antique."Look at this!" he said. "I wonder if it still works?"

"No way," Roger answered, "You won't ever find any film for that anymore."

Sheila kneeled down and started going through the box.
"Look at these!" she said holding up a few abandoned rolls of film."I bet it does work. It looks fine to me." She took the camera from Allan.

Roger walked over to the pile of junk Sheila had lain aside while going through the box."Anything else in there? Something worth anything?"

"No, it doesn't look like it. Just these notepads and photo albums,"Sheila answered.

"I wonder what this stuff says?" Allan asked as he looked at the Japanese writing. It looked like some cryptic alien cipher.

"Who cares? There's nothing else in here. We had better get going now," Roger answered sharply.

He was getting nervous. Upstairs the body of an elderly Japanese man still lay where it had fallen. Allan did not mean to hit the man so hard.

He had answered the door and Allan had asked to use his phone. Allan told him that they had broken down and needed to call someone.

The old man was so nice that, as he had invited them into his home Allan nearly couldn't get the nerve to do it.
But as the man handed them all something to drink, commenting on how thirsty they must be walking such a long way, Allan took out the pipe he had been hiding and clubbed him in the back of the head, making a sickening thud.

The nice old man probably never even realized what was happening. He collapsed without a word or sound, twitching oddly, and just like that his many years on this earth had come to an end.

Now this break- in had turned into something else.
Roger drug the old man's body to the top of the basement steps, and tossed it down, as if to make it look like he had fallen.

The three of them stood and stared silently, until Sheila descended the stairs again, and bending down, snatched a silver pendant from the man's throat.

"Now that is cold...." Allan laughed.

As they quickly packed some of the man's more valuable possessions into the van, Allan wondered aloud if they were wrong...maybe the man was still alive.

Roger looked at him sternly and said "He's as dead as we're all going to be if the police catch us here! Now get in the damn van and let's get out of here!"

As their old Chevy van backed out off the gravel road that led to the dead man's home, quietly sitting in the back, and still in shock, Sheila noticed that without thinking she had carried off the old worthless camera. It still had a few rolls of the film.

She raised the camera up to her eyes and gazed through it at the house. She thought she saw something move at the window. She felt as if an icy current of electricity shot through her stomach.

"He's alive!" she yelled. She lowered the camera and looked at the empty window, feeling foolish.
Alan stopped the van.

"Are you going to be OK with this?" Roger asked impatiently. "It was a mistake...none of this ever happened! Do you understand?"

"Leave her alone!" Allan snapped. "She'll be fine."

"She'd better be." Roger said in a low voice.

She nervously raised the camera once more, her hands clumsily adjusting controls, as she once again stared at the house through the old view finder.

It was then that she knew madness, for there was now no mistaking it...the old man was staring out at them, his mouth hanging open, and his flesh a sickening unnatural white, his hand pointing accusingly at them as he began to come out of the house after them. She gasped and dropped the camera from her face and again...nothing was there.

They pulled out of the driveway, and Sheila once again looked through the lens, to see the man once more...
His eyes met hers, she was sure of that.

Her finger pushed the button and there was a flash.
"Jesus!" Roger again snapped. "Put that damn thing down!"
She lowered the camera to her lap, and as Allan pulled onto the highway. Roger began to count the money from the old man's wallet.

Sheila fell silent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been almost two weeks since they had divided up the spoils they had taken from the old man.

Sheila had only gotten some jewelry, a little of the cash and the camera. She could not be persuaded that it was worthless and insisted on keeping it...for her own reasons.

She sat alone at the table, her hand playing with her new silver pendant she had taken as she stared down at the camera. “How do I load this damn thing?”

Allan had went out with Roger again and left her alone.
She was getting tired of these boys nights out.
Next Saturday it would be her turn.

She finally figured out where the film went in.
She took the old film out of it and reloaded it.

Nightmares had been coming for over a week now.
Every night, she would awaken in terror, but have no memory of just what she had dreamed of. She would awaked soaked and shaking, with the feeling that something....someone was watching her.

She had changed since the encounter with the old man.
She had become even more hardened and cold, even darkly perverse, than she had been before. As if looking into his eyes through that old lense had somehow corrupted her soul.

She could not be sure whether what she had seen in the car was real, or if she was merely having a breakdown.
"God is punishing me..." she thought as the silence of the empty apartment crept inward to her soul.

She looked down at the instrument of her spiritual sentence, this absurd old camera. While what she had seen through it horrified her, she could at the same time not throw it away.
She was bound to it by a morbid fascination with the terrible things it promised to show her.

The mysteries of the other side teased her, claimed her imagination, more every day, as she passed many evenings alone, her hands finding the demonic object, feeling it's unnatural coldness, wondering what was around her, which her eyes could not see, but afraid to look through the lens lest she find out.

Then one day things took an unexpected turn....

Sirens wailed. Shrieking as they came closer outside. Sheila pulled back the curtains to see the lights of an ambulance and police car flashing. Paramedics hurried into her neighbor’s house and returned with a body on a stretcher. A white sheet was draped over the still form, and the men were no longer in any hurry. Their faces wooden, grim masks as they went about their business of putting the neighbor into the back of the ambulance.

Sheila hurried across the yard, into the neighbor’s driveway
"What happened to Mr. Garner?" she asked the police officer.

"Did you know him?"

"Not really. we talked a few times." she answered.

"Suicide. I see it all the time with old people who live alone. So sad...." he said, visibly shaken.

"How did he?" she paused.

Another neighbor answered in a low voice..."We hadn’t seen him for a while and he wouldn’t answer the door. I heard that he shot himself."

All of them fell silent for several seconds. Sheila returned home without saying another word.

She thought about Mr.Garner.
He had taken his wife's heart attack very hard.
His only child had perished in the crash as well, and she couldn’t remember the last time she spoke to the man.

She wondered how long he had rotted in that quiet dark house. Then...she wondered something else.

She looked at the recently loaded camera on the table, and resolved that she would learn it's mysteries.

02-20-2009, 10:15 PM	#1
Greqoh Join Date: Sep 2005 Posts: 27	Fatal Frame:Hide And Seek Fatal Frame:Hide And Seek by L. A. Greco (Loosely based on the cult Japanese games. A strange invention makes its way to America...) ************************************************ The camera lay forgotten in an old box of photo albums and notebooks. It was ancient looking, covered in dust and absurdly large and cumbersome. And Allan lifted it out of the box as if he had found some prized antique."Look at this!" he said. "I wonder if it still works?" "No way," Roger answered, "You won't ever find any film for that anymore." Sheila kneeled down and started going through the box. "Look at these!" she said holding up a few abandoned rolls of film."I bet it does work. It looks fine to me." She took the camera from Allan. Roger walked over to the pile of junk Sheila had lain aside while going through the box."Anything else in there? Something worth anything?" "No, it doesn't look like it. Just these notepads and photo albums,"Sheila answered. "I wonder what this stuff says?" Allan asked as he looked at the Japanese writing. It looked like some cryptic alien cipher. "Who cares? There's nothing else in here. We had better get going now," Roger answered sharply. He was getting nervous. Upstairs the body of an elderly Japanese man still lay where it had fallen. Allan did not mean to hit the man so hard. He had answered the door and Allan had asked to use his phone. Allan told him that they had broken down and needed to call someone. The old man was so nice that, as he had invited them into his home Allan nearly couldn't get the nerve to do it. But as the man handed them all something to drink, commenting on how thirsty they must be walking such a long way, Allan took out the pipe he had been hiding and clubbed him in the back of the head, making a sickening thud. The nice old man probably never even realized what was happening. He collapsed without a word or sound, twitching oddly, and just like that his many years on this earth had come to an end. Now this break- in had turned into something else. Roger drug the old man's body to the top of the basement steps, and tossed it down, as if to make it look like he had fallen. The three of them stood and stared silently, until Sheila descended the stairs again, and bending down, snatched a silver pendant from the man's throat. "Now that is cold...." Allan laughed. As they quickly packed some of the man's more valuable possessions into the van, Allan wondered aloud if they were wrong...maybe the man was still alive. Roger looked at him sternly and said "He's as dead as we're all going to be if the police catch us here! Now get in the damn van and let's get out of here!" As their old Chevy van backed out off the gravel road that led to the dead man's home, quietly sitting in the back, and still in shock, Sheila noticed that without thinking she had carried off the old worthless camera. It still had a few rolls of the film. She raised the camera up to her eyes and gazed through it at the house. She thought she saw something move at the window. She felt as if an icy current of electricity shot through her stomach. "He's alive!" she yelled. She lowered the camera and looked at the empty window, feeling foolish. Alan stopped the van. "Are you going to be OK with this?" Roger asked impatiently. "It was a mistake...none of this ever happened! Do you understand?" "Leave her alone!" Allan snapped. "She'll be fine." "She'd better be." Roger said in a low voice. She nervously raised the camera once more, her hands clumsily adjusting controls, as she once again stared at the house through the old view finder. It was then that she knew madness, for there was now no mistaking it...the old man was staring out at them, his mouth hanging open, and his flesh a sickening unnatural white, his hand pointing accusingly at them as he began to come out of the house after them. She gasped and dropped the camera from her face and again...nothing was there. They pulled out of the driveway, and Sheila once again looked through the lens, to see the man once more... His eyes met hers, she was sure of that. Her finger pushed the button and there was a flash. "Jesus!" Roger again snapped. "Put that damn thing down!" She lowered the camera to her lap, and as Allan pulled onto the highway. Roger began to count the money from the old man's wallet. Sheila fell silent. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It had been almost two weeks since they had divided up the spoils they had taken from the old man. Sheila had only gotten some jewelry, a little of the cash and the camera. She could not be persuaded that it was worthless and insisted on keeping it...for her own reasons. She sat alone at the table, her hand playing with her new silver pendant she had taken as she stared down at the camera. “How do I load this damn thing?” Allan had went out with Roger again and left her alone. She was getting tired of these boys nights out. Next Saturday it would be her turn. She finally figured out where the film went in. She took the old film out of it and reloaded it. Nightmares had been coming for over a week now. Every night, she would awaken in terror, but have no memory of just what she had dreamed of. She would awaked soaked and shaking, with the feeling that something....someone was watching her. She had changed since the encounter with the old man. She had become even more hardened and cold, even darkly perverse, than she had been before. As if looking into his eyes through that old lense had somehow corrupted her soul. She could not be sure whether what she had seen in the car was real, or if she was merely having a breakdown. "God is punishing me..." she thought as the silence of the empty apartment crept inward to her soul. She looked down at the instrument of her spiritual sentence, this absurd old camera. While what she had seen through it horrified her, she could at the same time not throw it away. She was bound to it by a morbid fascination with the terrible things it promised to show her. The mysteries of the other side teased her, claimed her imagination, more every day, as she passed many evenings alone, her hands finding the demonic object, feeling it's unnatural coldness, wondering what was around her, which her eyes could not see, but afraid to look through the lens lest she find out. Then one day things took an unexpected turn.... Sirens wailed. Shrieking as they came closer outside. Sheila pulled back the curtains to see the lights of an ambulance and police car flashing. Paramedics hurried into her neighbor’s house and returned with a body on a stretcher. A white sheet was draped over the still form, and the men were no longer in any hurry. Their faces wooden, grim masks as they went about their business of putting the neighbor into the back of the ambulance. Sheila hurried across the yard, into the neighbor’s driveway "What happened to Mr. Garner?" she asked the police officer. "Did you know him?" "Not really. we talked a few times." she answered. "Suicide. I see it all the time with old people who live alone. So sad...." he said, visibly shaken. "How did he?" she paused. Another neighbor answered in a low voice..."We hadn’t seen him for a while and he wouldn’t answer the door. I heard that he shot himself." All of them fell silent for several seconds. Sheila returned home without saying another word. She thought about Mr.Garner. He had taken his wife's heart attack very hard. His only child had perished in the crash as well, and she couldn’t remember the last time she spoke to the man. She wondered how long he had rotted in that quiet dark house. Then...she wondered something else. She looked at the recently loaded camera on the table, and resolved that she would learn it's mysteries.