The Paparazzo

The Paparazzo


Jason sat in the dim light, staring at his camera. He frowned as he scrolled through the images. “Pure shit! Not a single newsworthy picture. Can I get a break? Is anyone out there listening?” A knock broke his tirade.

He approached cautiously. “Who’s there?” He looked down as an envelope slid under the door. Picking it up, he read the linen card: You Are Invited To A Party. He glanced at the address. Beverly Hills. An A-list gathering for sure. Handwritten at the bottom was “Bring your camera!”

“You can count on that,” he said, a smile creasing his face.

At the appointed time, he pulled into the circular driveway that fronted a mansion. He was struck by the silence.

This is strange. No one here to park my car … or chase me off. With a self-assured grin, he went to the front door.

“Come in, Jason,” a rasping low voice invited him.

The scene of carnage that greeted him made him vomit. Blood was everywhere and body parts were strewn like confetti. Dismembered bodies were staged in bizarre sexual positions.

“Don’t turn,” the voice hissed. “Take your pictures. The police will be here in eight minutes. This is your big break!”

Jason began shooting, the whirring of the camera the only sound.

“It’s time!”

Jason turned, the flash exploding in the direction of the voice.

Jason bolted upright, disoriented, finally recognizing his bedroom. How did I get here? Was it a dream? Sitting on his bed, he saw his bloody shoes and blood soaked clothes. Grabbing his camera, he rapidly ran through the grisly photos. The very last photo showed a dark grinning face and … are those horns?

As he stared, the picture seemed to fade and words appeared:

Someone is ALWAYS listening.

An entry for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Write a story that includes the words: "party, camera, news"
Word Limit: 300
Word Count: 298

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