Focusing On the Future

Photograph of the Month: Photo of man looking through viewer of an old (most likely 8mm or Super 8mm) movie camera.
The task is simple: get inspired by the photograph above and write a short story using this inspiration!

Your story must be:
Fiction.
Based on the photograph above.
Rated 18 or below: Any story that falls above this rating will be disqualified.
2000 words or less: Word count must be provided at the bottom of the item or your entry will be disqualified.
Newly written for this contest: Create your story as a Static Item and keep it in your portfolio. Send us the item ID number in bitem format of the item you wish to submit using this survey form below.
Submitted One Time Only: You may only enter this contest using one story, so make it a good one!
Edited Only Until the Deadline: Entries edited after the submission deadline may be disqualified from winning without notice.
The submission deadline is: 11:59 pm EST, February 28, 2010
The results will be posted: on or around March 15, 2010

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Focusing On the Future

By Indelibleink

Bing Jeffries walked out of the office with his head down, and shoulders drooping. His editor - his boss - had just made things perfectly clear to Bing: his stories as of late were "tired, worn-out pieces of crap," and if things didn't improve soon, Mr. Elliott would have no choice but to give someone else a chance.

Bing navigated the maze of cubicles that led to his own workstation, and cast his eyes on the mostly deserted desks and chairs of the once-thriving big-city newspaper. Maybe I should write the obituary for this rag. Maybe that would make Mr. Elliott happy. Bing chuckled at the inherent irony of the thought, and sat down as he reached his desk.

What to do. Whatever to do? Just a few years earlier, Bing could brainstorm with those in surrounding cubicles. Bounce some ideas off the proverbial wall and get a little feedback. Go have a few drinks with the gang and unwind. Those methods always seemed to bear some creative fruit. Not any more. All of his pals were gone. In any case, the bottom line was that Bing just wasn't finding the angles like he used to, and it showed in his writing. Truth be told, Bing didn't even blame Mr. Elliott for applying the screws; he knew that the powers-that-be were pressuring Elliott daily to produce copy that would generate new readership. Bing looked down at this morning's edition of the Morning Globe, and laughed. Big-city newspaper? Ha! Five years ago, the employment section was larger than the entire paper is today! Big-city newspaper? If it gets any smaller it will be more like a cocktail napkin! Would probably sell more if we marketed it as a cocktail napkin, too! Bing enjoyed the laughs - with himself - for a few more moments, but knew full well in the back of his mind that he was going to have to rejoin reality shortly.

Finally, it was time to go. Once inside the elevator, Bing's thoughts turned to his family: His wife, Margo, who was now entering her third trimester with child number three, and their two girls.  Jessica, who had just turned eight, was quite a handful, and Rachel, a very "mature" five years of age, was all they could handle as well. Bing and Margo hadn't planned on having a third child - at least not in these uncertain economic conditions - but, as they say, accidents happen, and the Jeffries family never would have considered not having the baby, regardless of conditions. Yet there was no denying the financial impact of having another mouth to feed, compounded further by the fact that at the end of the month Margo was going on maternity leave from her job as a second grade elementary school teacher. So, Bing was nearing a point in his life where his family would be counting on him more than ever, and he ends up having the riot act read to him by Mr. Elliott. Wonderful! Bing felt his optimism descending faster than the elevator he was riding.

Once out of the building, Bing slowly navigated the two blocks that brought him to his bus stop. He checked his watch and realized he had about ten minutes to kill before the bus - even if it was on time and it usually wasn't - was scheduled to appear. The early evening sun, reflecting off of the windows of some of the surrounding high-rises, had Bing shielding his eyes and he noticed the sun reflecting off of a shiny object that was almost completely down a storm sewer opening about twenty feet away.

His curiosity piqued, Bing walked over and peered down at the item on the ground, which was partially covered by other trash and debris. He bent down and brushed the item clear, revealing what appeared to be some form of photographic equipment, perhaps from the late 50's or early 60's. Surely, there must have been some value to such an old piece of equipment - even if were just to collectors of such items. With that thought in mind, Bing slid the artifact into his briefcase and returned to bus stop.

Once on the bus, Bing took a seat next to an elderly woman whom Bing had noticed and/or sat next to on many occasions over the years, yet he couldn't recall having seen or heard the woman ever speaking with anyone on the bus. Today, however, she gasped the instant the camera was removed it from Bing's briefcase for a closer examination.

"Oh...I see you got your hands on a Bell and Howell 1300. You're a photographer, are you?" The old lady's words were more of concern than those coming from one who was just making idle chatter, and Bing noticed that her expression was not particularly cheerful, either. "May I ask you where you found that?"

"Oh sure," Bing answered, "I found it just before I got on the bus today. It almost had fallen down the storm sewer. You seem to know a lot about this model camera." Bing hoped that the leading statement would lead to more information, and it did just that.

"Well, yes, my late husband Walter used to have one just like it. Caused him nothing but aggravation. In fact, he called it the 'Hell and Bowell 1313' because it was trouble - plain and simple. In fact, Walter became a different person after he started using that awful movie camera: started to gamble, and I don't mean a little - he gambled a lot. And he took that stupid thing with him everywhere he went." It was obvious that the woman was really getting worked-up over the subject. She grabbed and clenched Bing's forearm. "Walter ended up leaving me for some time; all he cared about was that camera. He then said he wanted to come back to me, but I said I wouldn't take him if he still had the camera. He told me he had gotten rid of the camera, and I guess he did. He died of a massive heart attack shortly after coming back to me." The woman rose up from her seat. "I have to go...this is my stop." After she walked a few feet down the aisle, she looked back at Bing. "You make damn sure you know how to use that thing - you hear me?"

Bing was too flabbergasted to respond. He wasn't too flabbergasted to note that the woman had gotten off the bus a couple of stops earlier than she normally did. What was so intimidating about a silly movie camera? And blaming a camera for your marriage going down the tubes? Not likely, dearie. Just for the heck of it, Bing picked up the camera to see if he could find the old woman through the eyepiece. What he saw next was rather incredible: The very same woman, in a hospital bed, with numerous tubes running in and out of her. The scene quickly panned over to the heart monitor which suddenly flat-lined, and panned back to the old woman just in time to see her eyes roll back in her head.

Both stunned and fascinated at the same time, Bing lowered the camera from his eyes and looked for the old woman walking on the street. Traffic was such that some folks were actually walking faster than the bus was moving. Sure enough - there she was scurrying along - apparently as healthy as a horse, too! Bing breathed a sigh of relief. He could not explain the sequence of events that had just occupied the last few minutes or so of his life, but the reality that the old woman was still alive and kicking was of some comfort, anyway. He took another peek at the old woman through the camera once again. This time, there were a group of people gathered at a cemetery - it looked to be a funeral. Again, he lowered the camera to get a visual of the old woman walking, and again - happily - found her. He put the camera back into his briefcase.

When he got home, Bing was too excited and curious to talk with Margo or the girls. He just had to find out what was with that crazy camera. He dashed into the house, grabbed the car keys, and mumbled something to Margo about "going out on an assignment," and went back downtown to test his theory out. His theory was that he had stumbled onto some sort of "clairvoyant" camera that had the ability to see into the future. While he couldn't explain it, it still made sense to Bing: Walter, the old woman's husband, must have realized the potential of the camera at racetracks and was cashing in - literally! Walter abused the power and it cost him. Bing would be smarter than that.

Just by luck, Bing's assignment was to write a story on what might become of the old, gargantuan, City Hall that had just been spared demolition by being designated a historic building. If this camera worked the way Bing thought it might, Bing could write a very descriptive - not to mention accurate - story, that would surely win him big points with the boss.

A few more stories with the "insider" information that he would have, and soon he would be on his way up the ladder at the Globe! See, the difference between Walter and Bing was that Walter became greedy, whereas Bing was playing it smart.

As Bing approached City Hall, he slowed down and took a look through the eyepiece of the camera. Aha! I was right! It's going to be converted into an old-fashioned arcade-type mini-mall. This is awesome! Bing couldn't contain his excitement over what he saw: People meandering through the many shops and stores, and then he panned the front window of the historic building. What he saw next, however, sent a shiver of horror up his spine: His reflection in the window showed him standing behind bars, dressed in prison garb. He was so distraught by what he saw he just stared at the disheveled image of himself that he saw in the glass.

Bing's gaze was broken by a scream from the sidewalk, followed immediately by the feeling of his car hitting and then running over something. He slammed on the brakes, and jumped out of his car. He kneeled and bent down to look under his vehicle. It was the old woman from the bus. This was how she got in the hospital!

"Hang in there, lady! You're going to be okay," Bing blurted as he scrambled to dial 9-1-1, while a crowd gathered around his vehicle.

"We both know I'm not going to be okay," the old woman groaned, "because I didn't tell you everything about the camera. I was cleaning up Walter's study last week and I came across the camera. I was taking it to a pawn shop to get some cash for it, when I decided to take a look, and I was looking at you. You were in prison, and now I know why." She tried to laugh, but coughed instead, and blood sprayed from her mouth. "I was the one who threw the camera into the sewer - at least I thought I did."

Bing began to sob. Vehicular homicide. That's why I go to prison! "Why didn't you tell me? I would have been able to avoid this."

The old woman shook her head. "You can't change the future...no matter what. Walter found that out too."

Bing reached into his car, picked up the camera, and threw it as far as he could. He then sat down on the curb and dialed Margo on his cell as he awaited the arrival of the police and paramedics.

Down the street, an unemployed steelworker noticed a shiny object glistening by the curb, and bent down to see what it was...

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word count: 1998