Grandma's Photo

Grandma's Photo  (E) 500 word limit flash fiction contest. #1594738 by ThatWierdGuy

James couldn’t understand why Mommy and Daddy were so excited Grandma died. He heard something about a “forged will.” James didn’t get it. He wasn't excited; he was sad. Grandma was so nice to him.

He heard Daddy whisper in Mommy’s ear as they stepped out of the carriage, walking towards the house, “You know what she said days before she died?” He chuckled. “You’ll never have my money.” Mommy chuckled too.

“We should go take some pictures. You want to take one, James?,” said Mommy.

James imagined Grandma dead in the casket. He never saw a dead person before. “Me?” Daddy says everyone takes pictures of the dead since Queen Victoria became Queen.

“C’mon son. Don’t be scared. You’re not scared are you?” Daddy was a photographer, and he wanted to be one too when he grew up.

James held his head high, “No, of course not.”

They entered the house, and James could see the camera resting on the tripod, facing Grandma’s open casket. The place smelt of flowers, perfumes, and rotten eggs.

“Everything’s set, James”, said Daddy. “Just pull the lever”

He stepped onto the stool, pulled the drape over his head, and looked through the lens of the camera. Hundreds of flowers were decorated near the casket, looking more like a garden than a living room. In the casket, Grandma was dressed in black, eyes closed, silver hair tied in a bun. Death made her look even older, and her wrinkles more pronounced than ever. Daddy always said that the dead looked peaceful in their caskets, but Grandma didn’t. Grandma doesn’t look peaceful at all, thought James.

His hand trembled as he held the lever. There was something about taking a picture of Grandma that didn’t feel right.

“Hurry up, James”, said Mommy.

He continued to hesitate, and he could feel his hands start to sweat. She’s only dead, thought James.

He pulled the lever.

*****

After the procession, they went home so they can rest, and so daddy could develop the photographs.

James was in Daddy’s photo room. Daddy hung several of Grandma’s photos on a string to dry. “The photo will form in a moment,” he said. Just wait here while I get something.” He left James alone.

After several minutes, the contours formed on the once blank photo. The world is in color, but photos are always colorless, thought James. Now James could see the black and white flowers, the window in the background, the casket... then he gasped.

Where’s Grandma?, thought James. The casket was empty in every photo. But I saw Grandma. He was there when he took the photos. He was there when they buried Grandma! “Mommy!,” he screamed.

He heard mommy and daddy outside the photo room. They were screaming too.

Then the shrieks stopped, and he heard footsteps, footsteps coming towards the door.

The door opened. A figure stepped through, colorless as a photo.

It was Grandma.