Captured on Camera

Thirty-six-year-old photography hobbyist Jack Stevenson steadied his Canon EOS R5 at the pelican, hit the shutter button, and took a picture, all without making noise and scaring the bird away. 

He took several more photos, watching as the pelican carried a fish in its mouth, and flew away.

Jack smiled.

Although his work had been featured in a few magazines, he loved nothing more than the stillness of taking photos at the beach early in the morning, before the throngs of people made their way to this particular beach, causing wildlife to scatter. He loved the smell and feel of the fresh ocean breeze, basking in the glow of the early morning sun, breathing in the fresh air, and enjoying the solitude of him surrounded by nature. 

Walking back to his car, Jack sat in the driver's seat, taking a look at his photos, noticing something odd. In the far upper left-hand corner of the picture, he saw a blob - no, a figure. Zooming in on the camera screen, a woman appeared, approximately in her thirties with long, black, flowing hair blowing around her, wearing what appeared to be a red bikini. Her face looked expressionless, her mouth set in a straight line. And stranger yet, she appeared to be floating over the ocean, her feet appearing to just barely touch the water. As far as he knew, there was no bridge on that side of the water. And he had not seen anyone boating today? Also, why did she seem vaguely familiar to him? He had no siblings, his parents had died some years ago, and his few friends were all married and lived miles away.

He stilled. He had been sure no one had been there at the beach. It was an off-beaten part of the beach, but still locals knew and flocked to the area around mid-morning. Rarely had he seen anyone this early as he came three to four times a week to take photos here, but he would have noticed her, right?

Scrolling through the rest of his photos from the day, he found her again. Picture after picture, she showed up in the upper left-hand corner of his photos, in the same pose, the flowing hair captured in the same flowing wave, her body appearing to hover just above the ocean.

How had he not noticed her there before?

Jumping up and out of the seat of his car, he grabbed his camera and walked 15 minutes back to the same spot where he had taken the photo. Carefully scanning the area from left to right, he didn't notice or hear any woman or any other person – seeing nothing except a couple of seals, heard a couple of birds, and heard the sound of waves crashing against the rocks. 

Pointing the camera toward the same area he had seen the pelican, he took a photo. Breathing heavily, he looked at the taken photo. His blood ran cold.

The woman appeared again, in the upper, left corner of the photo.

“Am I going mad?” he thought.

Rapidly, he began taking photos of everything around him. The rocks, the waves, a tree, a piece of fast food wrapper rolling around a few feet away from him, his sandals, the sky, and he even turned around the camera to take a photo of himself. Then, he went back to the viewfinder to observe the photos.

In every single picture he had taken, the woman emerged, in the same pose, in the upper left corner of the photo. 

Dropping the camera, he began to back away and ran back to his car. He opened the door to get into the car - but discovered the camera in the driver's seat. His mouth hanging open, his hands shaking, he grabbed the camera and flung it down on the ground, stomping the camera into pieces. He turned to go back into the car, but the camera appeared there – again! 

Turning from his car, he ran. He ran as fast as he could toward the highway for five minutes without stopping. Collapsing against a tree, frightened, and nearly out of breath, he closed his eyes to think. What was going on? How did the camera appear intact when he had destroyed it? And who was the woman in the photo? 

He got up, knowing he was just a couple minutes away from the highway - and screamed!

His car was about a hundred feet in front of him. Had he run in circles? No, he had only run down a single pathway. There was no way he could have run in circles. Gathering mental strength, Jack strode over to the car and found the camera on the driver's seat. Determined to understand what happened, Jack scrolled through the photos he had taken that day and arrived at the first ones still saved on his camera from another day, nearly two years ago. Navigating through the photos, Jack finally pieced together why he was here – and why he could not leave. 

Two Years Ago:

Thirty-four-year-old photography hobbyist Jack Stevenson steadied his Canon EOS R5 at the seal, hit the shutter button, and took a picture, smiling as the seal barked. He loved taking photos in the morning at the beach before a crowd would gather and the peace would be disturbed. 

However, on this particular morning, a woman in her thirties, with long black hair and wearing a bright, red bikini, rowed a small canoe, alone, seeming to enjoy the calm ocean waters and the near emptiness of the beach. Jack picked up the camera – and took a photo. If she hadn't noticed him before, she noticed him now. Seeing the photo, he noticed she didn't look happy, probably because he took a photo. But Jack couldn't resist.

Suddenly, the waves and wind picked up, and the canoe that had previously been gliding along on tranquil water, began to sway violently. If Jack hadn't been there, he would have never believed a storm could come through that quickly.

The canoe lurched from left to right, the woman now looking absolutely frightened. The canoe turned over and the woman fell into the water. With the brutal waves assaulting her from what felt like all angles, she had trouble staying afloat. Finally, she was able to suck in a full breath and look at Jack, yelling, “Help Me!”

Jack stilled. He didn't jump in after her to save her. He didn't call 9-1-1. He took out his camera and began to take picture after picture of her as she drowned. Later, when Jack was sentenced to five years of prison for failure to render aid – instead simply heading home afterward - all he could say to her family was “I wasn't thinking. All I know how to do is observe. That's what my camera is for.”

In the Florida State Penitentiary, Margaret Lacey peered in at Jack Stevenson, hooked up to a bunch of wires, and turned to the guard. “Please tell me he's suffering. He did nothing to help my sister except take a bunch of pictures. Ironic since the state had recently put up cameras at that part of the beach due to too many fights between people in the summer. 

The guard nodded. “Yes, those wires are feeding him nutrition to keep him alive as well as others stimulating his brain to be in the simulation we prepared for him. Once he goes to sleep, the day repeats once his mind awakens. He'll always see your sister in his camera. He'll never be able to leave that beach – or her – until his sentence is over.”

Margaret sighed. “Good. I hope that he sees her everywhere he looks – even after his sentence is over. I know he'll always be the last thing she saw – him and that stupid camera.”