Tiny Horror

The following evening, Jim sat in his apartment, the blue light of his monitors the only thing cutting through the gloom of his living room. He had just hit 'send' on the draft and the initial photo batch, leaning back in his chair with a satisfying crack of his spine. He spent the next hour mindlessly scrolling through an online gear forum, the white noise of a late-night talk show playing in the background, until his phone buzzed on the desk. Artie.

"Jim! I just finished the read-through," Artie’s voice was energetic, practically vibrating through the speaker. "The Miller family feud, the 'yellow journalism' angle... it's smart. It’s a fresh hook for the legend. People will like the tragedy of it."

Jim leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. "I thought it might work. It grounds the whole issue in something real."

"It does," Artie agreed. "It works for the text. But I’m looking at the photos you uploaded. They’re a bit... peaceful, aren't they? In this light, it looks like a nice place for a picnic."

"It’s a cemetery, Artie. I went on a sunny afternoon."

"I know. But we're selling a 'Myths and Legends' issue. I need the contrast. If the readers see these shots, they aren't going to buy into the myth you're trying to deconstruct. The visual has to match the reputation of the place."

Jim sighed, glancing out at the rain starting to streak his own window. "The stone is just granite, Artie. It’s not going to look scary unless I catch it in a thunderstorm."

"Then go back when the light is right," Artie said. "Look, the staff photographer is slammed with graduation profiles right now. I need you to go back to Riverside tonight. Get me something moody. Use a flashlight, play with the shadows; make that stone look like it has some history."

Jim took a deep breath. "Fine. I’ll go back tonight. But if I get cited for trespassing, you're paying the fine."

"Deal," Artie chirped. "Make it bleed, Jim. Or at least make it look like it wants to. I'm staying up late to finish the layout, so send 'em over as soon as you get back."

Jim hung up and looked at his camera bag. The rain was steady now, the spring thaw turning the world into a cold, wet slog. He grabbed his tactical flashlight and checked the battery on the D700. He wasn't looking for ghosts, but he knew he needed a better shot if he wanted the story to land.

The tale continues...