(a story from scratch)
</center>I was understandably puzzled by what I had seen. It was buried under a pile of trash locked up in an old worn steamer trunk, the kind that when stood on end opened up revealing a small area on the left side that could hold hanging clothes. On the right were several drawers, seven to be exact - two side-by side in three upper rows and one larger drawer on the bottom. Like all old trunks, this one had that smell of age and moisture that one never forgets when it has been smelled for the very first time.
I only mention this because it takes my mind off the picture. Left side where once hung some shirts, maybe blouses... I don't know. These were the perceptions that I had when seeing the pile of trash stuffed in that area. I clawed through it, pulling it out on the floor. I had felt I had found a really neat, collectible trunk that I could clean up and find some use for, even if it was just decorative. But that pile of trash changed all that.
It was laying about half-way down in the pile, part of it sticking out of the trash. Maybe it was the color, maybe the faded but slight shine that grabbed my attention, but I reached down and slid it out of it's hiding place for who knows how long. As soon as i had it in my hand and raised it up so I could more clearly see it, I felt that energy coursing thru my fingertips... the energy of an object revitalized after lying dormant for years. The picture began vibrating. Not heavily... just a gentle vibration that warmed my hand. I almost forgot to look at the image I was so taken by this picture's warmth. But when I looked at that image for the first time, I knew this picture had a story that I had to know.
Who was this? Why was it apparently wrapped in cloth? Was it the last picture of someone's love before it was buried? Maybe it was the image of someone standing in a wooded area playing tricks on the unsuspecting... the image only a reminder... There was so many unanswered questions I had no idea where to begin. The steamer trunk was the final resting place for this image... final except for that one moment when I saved it from certain loss forever had I not seen it and pulled it out.
Were there any other clues in the trash? I perched the photo on the top of the trunk and wondered as I knelt down and began rummaging thru the pile - some old wadded up newspapers. As luck would have it, one of the paper still had an edge that was dated: 13 October 19... the last two numbers were not intact. Damn! I continued looking thru the pile. A torn up letter. It looked like a business letter - the heading had a company name on it: American Electric, Boston, Mass. and the date was gone under a large dark stain. Was this a possible clue? I put it to the side and continued searching - scraps of meaningless rubbish that had little to no significance, but all that paper! Not any objects at all. Just old paper... and this one photo. Nothing but this photo and maybe a clue from Boston... maybe, just maybe...
The letter was written to a Mrs. Virginia Higgentroth and began with "Thank you for your interest in our new, time-saving device that has generated an enormous response ...." and then the letter was torn away. I searched thru the pile in hopes of finding the rest of the letter but there wasn't anything there.
To add to the mystery was what was this device that Mrs. Higgentroth was eager to know more about and did she purchase one?
I was clueless. Was there any clue to the image in this photo? Or would it remain a mystery. Maybe someone else tried to find out the answers and threw the photo out years ago. Maybe it was just an old photo that meant nothing to nobody. But this photo vibrated for me... that gentle, relaxing vibration that brings a sense of calm to the worried soul. May this Mrs, Higgentroth was a worried soul. Who knows?
I kept the photo for 47 years. Forty-seven years of wondering what or who this image was. Forty-seven years with nothing but questions and not one promising answer. I made it a point to look at that photo every October 13 every year for forty-seven times and each time I had this little warm vibration from it as I held it between my fingers For forty-seven years I was lulled by the warmth as I contemplated the image it held.
It became no longer necessary to know what or who the picture was. Forty-seven years was long enough. When the forty-eighth year arrived I opened that steamer trunk and slid open the bottom drawer and there the photo stood propped up against the back with nothing else in the drawer. I was more than ready for the warm vibration I had gotten for forty-seven years.
I reached into the drawer and gently picked up the picture anticipating the gentle, warm vibration that I always got but instead I heard a voice!
Was this my imagination or did the photo actually speak? I never heard a word in forty-seven years but here it was speaking: "Put me back... put me back... please put me back..." Soft voice... I couldn't tell if it was a man's voice or a woman's... it was too faint. A whisper really. But I could could hear it in the silence of the moment "put me back... put me back... please, put me back..."
Did this picture want to return to the drawer? That sounded too bizarre, even for me. But what else could it have been? I gently replaced the picture to is usual position I've put it in for forty-seven years and looked at it... listening for more speaking. Nothing. I looked hard at this photo knowing for years that there was something special about it in addition to it's warm vibrations... something within that image that wanted to tell me something. And here is was, after all those years, speaking to me.
But wanting to be put back in the drawer was not what I had in mind. I really expected the picture to tell me something wonderful. something secretive or even tell me who it was and why it vibrated - not "put me back... put me back... please, put me back..." Those softly whispered 10 words were a great disappointment. I slid the drawer closed for the forty-eighth time, only this time I made a pact with myself - I would not open the steamer trunks' large drawer until April 1st... Fool's Day.
I was a fool for giving this photo an special place in my home. An almost reverential spot within this collectible steamer trunk that served as a lamp table for forty-eight years covered with a black and white batik cloth from some far-away land handmade by far-away people that keep to themselves.
For forty-seven years I wondered and questioned this photo's origins hoping that I would find something, anything to write a terrific story about... a story that would fascinate readers, Hollywood would make a movie about it, "The Image in the Photo" would become a cult classic that would be on every film buff's 'need to see' list that they would watch every October 13th, reciting the script by memory in crowds that came to the theater six hours early on the evening of October 12th to get a seat for the annual midnight showing. There is an art noveau theater on the big screen would begin the movie as the audience hushed patiently awaiting the first words of the movie: "put me back... put me back... please, put me back" The only words throughout the entire 97 minute movie filmed in sepia-toned 3-D IMAX with a soundtrack that would be such a classic that it would be played 40... 50... 75 years from now and bowl over the listeners, always being fresh and never heard before.
But no.... nothing like that happened. It never does. Just a lousy unknown whispering picture that wanted to be put back in the drawer without ever revealing it's origin. Big fucking deal. Nobody cares about a secretive picture that says ten words. I wasted my time creating this thinking it was going to be a wonderful story. Those are really difficult to write, I guess. Maybe I'll move into that drawer with the picture. Someone will open it up and find the two of us, the picture and myself, wondering who we were and maybe write a really great story about us that will become a best seller and an IMAX movie in 3D. Who knows..?
Sincerely,
Laurence J. Kobie
(pen name from long ago)
