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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

#144: Take a Picture, It'll Last Longer

Whether you pose happily or are a serial camera dodger, there are probably some photographs you treasure. Photos are a way of connecting us with our past, capturing a special memory, or even giving us a peek into each other’s lives — albeit through a filter.


This week’s stories explore the unique art of photography, and how it impacts our lives in big ways, and tiny ones.

This week's prompts

Start your story with somebody taking a photo.

Adventure – 75 stories

Write a story about a wedding photographer.

Valentine's Day – 31 stories

A character finds an old roll of film, and takes it to be developed. What do they find?

Middle School – 45 stories

Write about a character who’s pathologically camera shy.

Character – 21 stories

Write a story that centres around an Instagram post.

High School – 20 stories

Stories

“Viva El Fotógrafo” by Ryne Moore

Submitted to Contest #144

**TW/CW** This story contains instances of physical harm, violence, and gore, as well as adult language. Ashley and I had known each other for nearly 15 years, since the freshman year of college when we sat next to each other in English 101 at the University of Arizona. We became quick friends with similar interests. She became like a sister, and I was always protective. After graduation, we both moved back to Phoenix and started our careers. I worked as a photojournalist for The Arizona Republic and Ashley went to work as a parale...

2 comments 2
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“Chasing jollies” by Scott Skinner

Submitted to Contest #144

I’ll tell you why I don’t believe in marriage anymore. The craziest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen was at a wedding. He was the photographer. A one-time high-school wrestler-looking dude with squat legs and a military haircut. He moved scrappy, like a bank robber mixed with a guy taking MMA classes. He was a tornado of a human. He made the bride’s mom faint, broke the groom’s dad’s nose, gave teenagers ecstasy, and ran from the police. I’ve never seen anything like it before or since. We called him Riggs. The wedding was outside on ...

9 comments 9
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“Tosca, by Puccini” by Marty B

Submitted to Contest #144

Handcuffed and sitting in a red velvet chair, the suspect is bleeding from his mouth and nose, the top buttons of his white ruffled dress shirt are ripped with threads dangling, his bow tie hangs loosely around his thick neck like ratty socks.  Detective Sergeant Hope Mirabella paused her interrogation to give the suspect a chance to breathe.  She looked again at the Tosca poster on the wall. The huge, vintage opera poster pictured a woman in a white dress holding a crucifix, standing over a dead man against a blood-red background....

2 comments 2
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“Ghost” by Crazy Crypto

Submitted to Contest #144

"He needs the new set of photos by midnight." It's not my problem. How did it get this way? He used to shoot photos for high school graduations and weddings. The porn business just paid really well. Too well. Too well to quit his job. He walked up the narrow staircase muttering to himself all the while, trying to compensate for his nerves he began humming a little tune. He was supposed to meet this woman at 2pm at her studio apartment to take some pictures, and she didn't come to the door. Someone let him in, and now he was walking up the...

0 comments 0
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“The Proof is in the Picture” by Deborah Elliott

Submitted to Contest #144

Marcus was dying and he was vehemently opposed to it. He still had things he wanted to do, places he wanted to see. The only thing that stood in the way between life and death for him was money. Just three years ago, science had discovered a cure for his life-threatening condition; one injection that would reverse all of the damage that had been done in his body and prevent any reoccurrences. Unfortunately, the treatment was only available to the wealthiest. Not rich people; only filthy rich people, and Marcus hadn’t a sp...

2 comments 2
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“Grandma's Secret” by Ginger Scharpe

Submitted to Contest #144

I thought I was ready for this, but now as I open the door to my grandmother’s attic, tears stream down my face. It has been two weeks since we laid her sweet body in the ground. I can still feel her here in the house. I told my mom I would help, but now I regret that. We have been staying at a hotel down the street because neither of us wanted to open the door and not see grandma standing in the kitchen. When we finally felt strong enough to come to the house and go through her things, my mom and I drove in silence to get the job done. I ...

2 comments 2
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“Lessons in Forgiveness” by Madelyn Grace

Submitted to Contest #144

For Evelyn Brass, home is the smell of antiseptic, cold, stale air, and stiff clothes. Home is a sickly white bed with a paper-thin mattress, and a television on which she can never quite focus. Pale blue curtains spotted with bleach in the corners. An entourage of bent cards propped up against smudged glass vases, holding flowers that are just staring to peek on the wrong side of rotten. Evelyn Brass considers this to be her home because she does not remember having anything else to fill the definition. She thinks that, in the smog that c...

3 comments 3
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“MM” by Lori Colt

Submitted to Contest #144

I was a mere peanut-sized being, blossoming in utero, when Daniel the second (my grandfather) and Daniel the third (my dad) both died. Odd to me, their deaths came one right after the other and under what seemed to be very suspicious circumstances that no one could ever really explain in a way that made sense to me. As a child, I would while away the hours staring at the few photos my mother had of both she and my dad, and my dad and grandfather together. The photos told me nothing other than my mom had been gorgeous during that time, a fa...

5 comments 5
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“The Photograph That Had Her Past Engraved On It” by Latha Prakash

Submitted to Contest #144

Squabbling seagulls flew overhead. Rachel sat on the sand with waves crashing against her ankles. The waves of the sea produced an opera, that was soothing. The sea seemed like a beautiful woman dressed in a cerulean blue gown. At a distance, a little girl and her mother were playing in the water. The yacht rocked like a cradle and it felt as though the sea wanted to lul Rachel to sleep.She was physically miles away from the hullabaloo but her mind still lingered in the hospital. Pictures of the IV cannula, ice-cold stainless steel cot, the ...

0 comments 0
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“Heikel” by Cindy Calder

Submitted to Contest #144

I don’t really know why I gravitated to the old, dilapidated trunk in the antique store that afternoon while wandering amidst the many vendors’ galleries, but I did. It was as though I was compelled and drawn to the old trunk for reasons unbeknownst to me. I remember running my fingers over it, feeling the raised ridges of peeling paint as I gingerly lifting the faded, damaged lid. From what I could see at the time, it held an assortment of old clothing, costume jewelry, books, and other such items. It was an intriguing assortment of unknown...

2 comments 2
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“The Old Camera” by Sasan Sedighi

Submitted to Contest #144

By seeing the garage sale sign in late Mr. Shepherd’s driveway, Michael slowed down his car and glanced into the garage on an impulse. It was packed. Obviously, Mr. Shepherd’s inheritors didn’t want to keep any of their father’s belongings, so they put them all in that garage for a quick sale. John Shepherd was a retired army colonel, and his wife Martha was a retired primary school teacher. And they lived two houses down the street from Michael’s home. Though they had never visited each other’s houses, they had frequently met on the stree...

1 comment 1
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“Arabian Convoy” by Chris Rohe

Submitted to Contest #144

While rambling through some storage boxes in the basement one day, I came across a roll of film. The film was among past photos and other odds and ends, and I recognized that most of the stuff was from back in the 1990s. “I wonder what could be on this,” I asked myself aloud, though there was no one around. I rolled the film around in my hand. The yellow sticker on the backside of the film case had been worn down to make it unreadable. I had a sudden sense of profound curiosity to find out what was in that roll of film. How to get this...

4 comments 4
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“The last case” by E. Roux

Submitted to Contest #144

A veil of dust collapses on the top of my head as I open the attic door. It’s been a long time since someone used it. The stairs unfold with loud creaks. I have to put some oil on them.Normally, I should wait for Jack to come back home but earlier he called to say that he’ll be late. So why waste time? At least I hope that if I fall, he will be back in time to get me to the hospital. The stairs continue their metallic scream as I step on them, but they manage to hold me.It’s been four years since my grandfather died and his house was the app...

1 comment 1
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“The White Woman” by Frances Hogg Lochow

Submitted to Contest #144

Antony hefted his equipment bags to his shoulder and watched the lights on the elevator panel tick upward. When the doors opened, he saw her at the end of the hall. She wore a long, black coat and held a shopping bag in one arm as she fitted the key into her lock. He was struck by two things—her abundance of platinum-white hair that fell past her slender hips, and the pure-white Afghan hound that waited patiently at her side. He was pleased to see that the new tenant was a woman, and wondered if she was single. He'd broken off with Ashley...

6 comments 6
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“Skewed Perspective - How I Became Pathologically Camera Shy” by Susan Wilkins

Submitted to Contest #144

Hello, I am Bernice, and I was pathologically camera shy for many years. Here is how that came to be. My father started taking pictures of me from birth. Back then cameras used flashbulbs. They were extremely bright and left you blind for some seconds at a time (which seemed a lot longer). As I grew to be a toddler I started hiding from my dad whenever he had his camera. I knew what came next, sudden bright flash almost painful to the eyes, and blindness. I hated it! When I could not hide fast enough, I cried. I had become camera shy. From...

1 comment 1
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$250

Prize money

192

Contest entries

114

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - May 06, 2022 EST

Won by Rebekah Jordan 🏆

Title: Unseen

Submissions must be between 1,000 - 3,000 words and will be approved and published on Reedsy Prompts within 7 days of the contest closing.

Read the full terms & conditions or check out the FAQ if you have any questions!

Prompts | Many Hands | 2024-09

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