Snapshots

Morning came, and he woke with the same eagerness to tell his friends about his new job as the day before. He'd been planning how to tell them all morning as he got ready for school.

He showered quickly, brushed his teeth, and ran out the door without bothering making breakfast. He figured he could stop by the gas station for some coffee and a doughnut or two on the way to school anyway. He had plenty of time, as usual.

Frank stuffed his pockets with the money his mom leaves on the counter every morning when she returns from work. Five to six dollars a day, so he can get lunch. Since he didn't spend too much yesterday, he had eight dollars to spend today.

Frank rode his bike down the dark roads. The sun still wasn't up yet, but Frank could feel the sunrise starting to peak over the horizon already. He pulled into the store and parked his bike on the sidewalk.

The teen entered, hearing the familiar chime over his head. He waved hello to the cashier and scanned the isles. He came there often, and hardly anyone was ever there, especially at this house, but today, there was a few unfamiliar faces roaming around. Two hooded figures and a business man grabbing coffee.

Frank picked out his usual coffee after the man in front of him finished using the machine. He filled the cup with creams and put a lid on it. He smiled at the warm scent and took a pastry out of the store's container. He shuffled over to the counter and greeted the cashier, quickly paying for his things.

Once good, he shoved the wrapped pastry into his hoodie's pocket and took a sip of coffee, ready to leave when he heard the clatter of coins falling to the floor. He turned his head to see one of the hooded figures dive to pick up what they had dropped.

Frank, being the decent sumerian he was, bent over to help. He piled in pennies and pennies into his hand until there was no more, watching as the guy behind the hooded guy pay for his stuff early and leave. Frank quickly handed over the coins, brushing up against the man's pale, cold skin and shuddering. He was given a quick “thank you,” and Frank took that as his dismissal. He waved goodbye and returned to his bike.

Luckily, the school wasn't far from the store, so he had plenty of time to study and read in the library until classes started.


He was first in the school, as normal, and headed straight to the library. There, he studied on his calculus class that he hadn't really been paying much attention to in the past few days.
Lunch rolled around slowly, but when doesn't it? Frank had just finished his physics class, and met up with his friends at their lunch table after he grabbed his tray of food.

“Dude, Ray, you'll never guess what!” Frank called out over the crowd of hungry teens. His friend, Ray was already seated at their table eating. Frank quickly joined him.

Ray Toro. Sure-to-be Valid Victorian of his class. Smart as fuck, as Frank would say, but always a bit shy around the ladies, as well as anyone else who wasn't his close friend. He was your everyday nerd pretty much, but he was an overall friendly guy. There was not a single thing that Ray could do wrong, and even if he did, everyone would excuse it. He's just not a bad guy.

“Yeah, what's up, Frank?” Ray asked, gnawing at his apple as he watched and waited for their other friend to get back from the food line.

“I got a job, man.” Frank beamed, “In the newspaper.”

“The Gazette?” Ray asked, shooting him a quick glance and raising a brow.

“Yeah! I'm the new photographer.” He set his prized camera on the table, patting its case.

“I'm makin' some decent money for each photo. So lunch is on me.”

“Lunch is on you, huh?” Said his other friend from behind with his tray in hands. “Shoulda told me before I got my food, Iero.”

“Sup, Mikes.” Ray grinned, patting the senior's back as he sat down next to Frank.

“Mn.” He grunted as he gave off a quick shrug and adjusted his beanie. He glanced over at Frank, who was eying his lunch instead of his own. “You not gonna eat your's?” He asked, nodding his head in the direction of Frank's tray.

“Eh, tacos aren't really my thing.” He said, sticking out his tongue, “Jus' something about the meat. I don't really dig meat all that much.”

“Hey, aren't Mexicans supposed to like, live off of tacos?”

“He's Italian, Mikey.” Ray snorted, “I'm Puerto Rican. I think you got us mixed up again. And cut out that racist shit, man. It's not cool.” He looked up at Frank next. “Don't go all hipster-veggie on us, man. That's just not you.”

“Right right....” Frank hummed, pressing his lips together. Mikey's salad looked much better.

“Trade, Mikes?”

“Gimme three bucks and I'll consider it.” Mikey retorted, a smug grin on his face.

“I'll buy you a coke if you just hand over your salad. You aren't even gonna eat it.”

“Fine. Fair enough.” Mikey scooted his salad over, and in return, got Frank's tacos.

Frank was about to get up to go get the soda he promised, but was stopped when Mikey spoke again. “I didn't quite hear what job you got.”

“He's a photographer.” Ray told him from across the table. “For the paper.”

Mikey only rolled his eyes. “How are you going to afford to buy me a soda, Frankie? I don't think you'll be making too much doing that.”

“Eh, it's alright. I kinda owe you for sayin' that shitty joke about your brother yesterday anyway.” Frank stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to find his wallet.

“What joke?” Mikey returned, a bit confused.

As Frank fished out his wallet to grab a couple of bucks, Ray answered instead. “I think he's talkin' 'bout when he said that The Chupa got your brother.”

“Ooooh.” Mikey said, casting his eyes down. “I mean...It's not that bad. It might've...It's been years...”

“Don't turn this into a sap fest, Mikes. I don't like hearing you talk about him.” Frank coughed, breaking up the mood, “I'll go get your soda, just sit tight. No missing-brother shit, got it?”

Before he could answer, Frank scurried off to get in the shortening line for Mikey's drink.

The rest of the lunch passed a bit more quietly, and the teens went to their separate classes to finish off the day. Ray got off two hours early for work, and sometimes, Frank liked to skip his last two classes to go with him. Today was a great day to decide that maybe Ray could drive him through town to the town hall to get a picture of the graffiti.

Ray quickly agreed, appreciating time spent with his friends, even if it was just giving him a quick lift down the road.

With his bike in the back of Ray's pickup, they went down to the town hall. Early, still, so Ray had time to get to work. Ray parked on the curb and let him out so he could take his picture.
Frank went around the town hall, finding the corner that fell victim to the wrath of hormonal teenagers. In bright, yellow and pink stylized text read: “Chupacabra lives.”

Of all things, a cult-like saying was the last thing he expected to see., but shrugged it off. They must've been referring to the killings that have been happening all around for the past few years. The murderer strikes once a month or so, and Frank feels he's the only one who has caught on to that pattern.

Chupacabra must've done something big to get its name written on a wall. Did it become some idol? All that Frank knows about it, is that it's kills are monthly, at night, and the few corpses it has left behind were drained of all organs and blood.

He shook himself out of his daze, and Frank snapped a quick picture of the painted walls right as the cleaning guy came up with his supplies to start working at it. He returned to the curb and thanked Ray, taking his bike out from the bed of his truck next and setting off to the nearby park.

The ride was slow, taking a good portion of time to get to the park. Once there, he was feeling a bit queasy out of nowhere. The nausea hit him like a wave, and he took a minute to sit down on one of the park benches. He closed his eyes for a minute and waited for the feeling to pass, opening his eyes up again to see children and trees.

And there, sure enough, was the second, “no skating” sign; The only one Frank really knew of at the time. He set up his lens and focus, sighing as he saw that the lighting just wasn't right enough for the effect he really wanted. After waiting a few minutes for the sun to hit the sign just right, Frank took his pictures and got back onto his bike, heading for the Gazettes's office building last.

He took a shortcut there, going down a dirt road before hitting the suburbs. Down the street, past the school and almost into the next town, was the office. It took quite some time to get all the way there from the park.

Parking his bike outside the entrance, Frank entered with a bit of self esteem. He greeted the lady at the front desk, then was given access to the back offices.

It was quick and easy, seeing how the office had its own printers just set out in the break room. He plugged in his camera and started to print off the good photos he took of the graffiti and the sign. He took to his manager's office that was luckily just a few doors down. It wasn't an overly huge building, but he could still manage to lose his way if he wasn't paying close attention.

Once in his office, Frank showed his manager his prints. With a grunt, Mr.Weber approved, gave him thirty dollars and his next assignment, and sent Frank right on his way..

Frank rode home rather slowly, happy with his earnings. He decided to stop at the store and pick up a pack of cigarettes with his fake ID as a reward to himself. He hopped off his bike and set his things next to it, knowing it was going to be a quick trip in. He shuffled in and got what he needed, picking himself up a soda as well.

His eyes wandered outside, noticing how dark it was getting. He couldn't have spent that long out of school, had he? He checked his phone, surprised with the time. It was late. He hissed under his breath, wondering just how the hell he lost track of time so quickly.

Rubbing his head, Frank made his way to the counter and began getting out the bills he needed. He payed the tired cashier, waving him goodbye as he made his way back outside again.

He popped the lid of his soda and took a sip, eyes widening as he made his way to his bike again. There, leaning over his bike, was a hooded figure, looking into the lens of his camera. Frank quickly set aside his drink on the curb and rushed over, snatching it from his bony fingers.

“Hey! Dude! Back up!” Frank hissed, looking over his camera for any damage. It was on, must've been the guy playing with it, and quickly flipped it back off. He should remind himself in the future not to leave his bags outside of the store, no matter how quick the trip inside.
The man stepped back, hands up in the air.

“I'm sorry--! It was – nice. I've seen your photos...in the gallery the town over.” His voice wasn't deep, no way he couldn't been a man. He wasn't the size of a man either, to think about it. He was small in frame, but his face was shadowed by the hoodie, even with the lights above flickering.

“Ramtown?” Frank asked, getting a nod in response.

“Yeah—I bought the one with the roses on it.”

Frank watched as the boy (or teen) dug into his pocket and unfolded the photo, showing him the photo Frank took weeks ago of his mother's garden on their apartment's patio. The crumpled photo made Frank cringe slightly.

“You bought that for twenty dollars and you fold it up in your pocket?” Frank sounded judgmental, more than he thought he did. This guy seemed a bit weird.

“Actually, it was thirty, and yes.” He stuffed it back into his pocket. “I think it's nice and pretty. I like to look at it.”

Frank shrugged, “Well, yeah, I guess. That's what photos are made to do, I guess.”

The boy nodded, shifting his weight to his other foot. “Sorry about touching your camera...”

He muttered, kicking a rock that was on the sidewalk. Frank looked down at the camera in his hands, and shrugged again.

“It's...alright. As long as it's not broken. As long as you don't do it --” He looked up to see that the boy had disappeared. Vanished, almost, without a sound.

“...Again...” Frank finished with a sigh, and started putting his camera back into his bag.
He slung his bags over his back and hopped back onto his bike, trying to shake off the awkward vibe he got from that roses-kid.

Riding home, he noticed how hazy things were getting. Frank figured it was just because he had a long day, and was exhausted from riding his bike everywhere. He rode home quicker than usual, trying to shake the feeling that he was being watched. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, Frank just always hated riding his bike home so late in the dark. It always gave him chills.

He made it home, locked his bike up, and practically flew up the apartment's steps to his door, and rushed inside, locking it behind him. Frank heaved a sign of relief and flipped the lights on, being greeted by hungry dogs. He didn't bother turning on the TV for the background noise, and went straight into the kitchen to where the dog bowls were.

“Sorry guys...sorry.” He told them as he quickly got their food out, as if they could respond back to every word he was saying to them. “Had to work today...moving up in the world finally.” He petted them for a few seconds as they began to eat, shucking his backpack to the floor and heading to his room.

He kicked off his shoes and stuffed away his cigarettes in his sock drawer, knowing his mother never looked in there anyway. He decided that saving a smoke for later would be better. Probably tomorrow.

He opened up his envelope of his next assignment and read it quickly.

Picture of the church gathering September 27th.

That was this coming Sunday. So he had plenty of time to relax and not worry about it. Tomorrow, he had the idea of saving the day for a photo session in the park or just outside the school. There wasn't anything going on anyway.

He picked up his camera and decided to do his usual photo cleansing process before bed. He leaned down against his headboard and flicked on his camera, pressing the playback button to review what he had. He started out checking the ones he took in the morning, progressively going throughout the day.

He deleted the ones of the graffiti and the sign and sighed, thinking they were the only things left. As the last photo of the sign was erased, Frank almost dropped his camera in his lap at the sudden change of photos.

Staring back at him was a boy, young and pale, wearing a big smile. It was hard on the eyes, his skin was practically white; being a difficult change from the warm light of his sign photos. Frank looked closer, thinking he must've taken the photo with the flash on, otherwise, he wouldn't be so whited out.

The boy in the photo had the tiniest of teeth, shaping out to some pretty sharp canines. He had dark eyes, red glare from the camera. His face was covered with messy, black hair, bangs falling all over his face. He was wearing a hoodie, and that's when it hit him.

It was that kid from the store. The one that was playing with his damn camera. Frank gritted his teeth out of frustration, but felt it melt away as he progressed through the ten photos the boy took. All selfies, some seeming accidental. Most were blurry, except the first, which was clear as day. He smiled in all the photos except for the last one, which was a blurry close up of his hazel eyes. It must've been the point where Frank caught him.

Frowning, Frank found himself turning his camera off and setting it on the charger. He got rid of the rest of his clothes, deciding to save his shower for the morning again. He turned off his lamp and laid down with a tired sigh.

He fell asleep, thinking of the odd boy at the store. Thinking that maybe he's seen him before at school. He did look awfully familiar, but couldn't quite put a name to the face. For now, he was known as the rose-boy to Frank, despite his lack of color.

As he drifted off to sleep, Frank remembered that he didn't quite have the heard to delete the photos the stranger took. And for some reason, he was fine with that.

Notes