Started screaming, \n\nI screamed,\n\nAnd screamed\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.\nAnd screamed.

On each photo there were lines, cutting through various places in the shots.\nThey looked almost like hairs, wrongfully placed.\nWhat was even more disturbing was that they simply invaded the pictures,\nlike annoying dust spots.\n\nThe lines simply cut things in half, bodies it the pictures,\nfaces,\nsmiles,\neyes,\n\nnothing was untouched by these lines.\n\nBut why were these here?\nIt was obvious that my grandfather was quite skilled, in his shot placement, and development.\nThe proper contrasting and depth of field in each shot was that of no amateur. \n\nThese lines though....\n\n*Were they intentional?\n\nI took out the photographs.\n\nPlaced them side by side.\n\nRearranged them.\n\nBut nothing seemed to make sense.\n\nAfter taking out all the photos, I did notice something.\nOn the back of a baby picture of myself, \nwere those neatly scribbled lines.\n\n[[A note to me]]

The time was early evening. \n6:00PM.\n\nThe date,\nOctober 11, 2013.\n\n[[Get out of your car.]]\n

I enter the right handed door, it was pitch black, \nfumbling for the switch I flipped it on.\nThe lights came to life with a dull flicker,\nbathing the room in blood red.\n\nA darkroom.\n\nHanging along the ceiling by strings were long strips of film negatives,\nthey rustling as I entered.\n\nThere was a metal sink in the corner of the room, vats of chemicals, and a film processing table \nwith a light box.\nIn the dead center of the table looked to be a book of some kind.\n\nSo this is what my grandfather left for me in all it's entirety.\nA studio with a darkroom.\n\nTo be honest, I never really felt close to my grandfather.\nSo distant, in fact, that I didn't even realize his passing until after I received a letter in the mail.\nThe letter informed me that my grandfather left me all his meager possessions. \nEven stranger,\nhe left no notes or inclining as to why he even gave me anything.\n\n[[Look again at the letter]]\n\n\n\n

Once on the second floor, \nI reached into my jacket for the key and searched for the room number.\n\nWhat was the number again?\n\n264.\n\n[[264.]]\n\n264...

*"Look in the safe"\n\nA combination.\n\nThese lines were a combination.\n\nI put my picture in the center and surrounded it with the rest of the photo album.\n\nNumber started forming, the combination to the safe.\n\nWith this new information in hand, I rushed out of the darkroom and into the bedroom.\nLike the rest of the house, the room was quite sparse. \n\nThe bed\nand a large painting or...\nLooking again, it wasn't a painting but a large photograph.\n\nOf a family of three.\nI couldn't recognize anyone in the photo, their backs were turned.\n\nShould I....\n\n*Should I open this safe?\n\nI lifted the painting off the wall and located the safe.\n\nMy heart pounding in my chest.\n\nI punched in the combination.\n\nOpened the safe.\n\nI looked inside.\n\n[[And]]\n\n

[[Why...]]\n\nNo “I love you” 's or “Thank you's”, he was a man of few words.\nThe whole ordeal was truly mysterious.\n\nMy parents were equally surprised that he left me anything at all.\nThinking that he'd all just take it with him, or sell it for the family.\nBut no, he left it to me.\n\nThe only reason, I could assume, is that he found out I had an interest in photography. \n\nPerhaps he found a kindred spirit in me.\n\nOr maybe, I was simply over thinking the situation.\n\nRegardless, the studio was mine.\nBut there was a nagging feeling in my gut.\nMaybe he was trying to tell me something,\nbut through what?\n\nLike my previous assumption, photography had to be the key.\n\n So I decided to start with the darkroom.\n\n\n

I shut my car door and proceeded towards the building.\n\nCrunch, crunch, [[Crunch.]]\n\n

I stuck my hands into the crevices of the door, and with some force pried it open.\n\nI found out what was blocking my path.\n Behind the door was piles of garbage and mail that had accumulated over the past month,\nlong forgotten.\n\nI coughed a bit, the mixture of trash and dust was overwhelming.\nAfter sticking my head out for a breath of fresh air, \nI entered again and surveyed the room.\n\nWhen you looked past the trash and general filth, it wasn't actually that bad.\n\nA small studio that was well loved back in the day.\nOrange tint washed over the room, \n modestly furnished with a kitchenette and a living room.\n\n On the north wall was two doors.\nThe door on the left connected to the bedroom.\nI looked again at my letter.\nIt indicated a safe behind a painting in the bedroom.\n\nBut what was the door on the right?\n\n[[Enter the right door]]

Driving up, \nI found myself in front of an old apartment complex. \nThe entire building looked as if it would crumble at the touch of civilization. \n\n[[What time is it?]]

I went over to examine the book, \nopening it up, I thumbed through the pages.\n\nIt was a photo album.\n\nIt started with your typical family shots, aged portraits on black and white sheets.\nSome were tinted brown, dates and squiggly handwriting neatly written beneath each shot.\n Meticulous work was put into every photos development.\n\nBut there was something about these pictures...\n...that struck me\n\n as strange....\n\nSo strange....\n\n[[It was...]]

Right,\nroom 264.\n\nThe room was at the end of the hall. The lingering light of dusk cut the door in two.\nUnlike the others, the mailbox was stuffed to the brim with ads and forlorn papers.\n\nIs this even the right room? \n\n[[Check the letter in your pocket.]]\n

Develop

chamotea

The orange light illuminated a path on the East side of the complex, revealing stairs.\nI hastily shuffled up them.\n\nA few stray people milled about the stair well, they paused and stared at me ....uncomfortably. \nThey went back to their conversation.\n\nLooking around self consciously, I began to jangle the keys in my pocket. \n\n[[I proceeded up the flight.]]

Double checking, \nthe numbers matched up with the letter addressed to me.\nKnocking first, I tried to open the aging apartment door.\n\nIt wouldn't budge. \n\n[[Pry it open?]]\n\n

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