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Through the Empty Lens

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It was a cool, fall evening and April was walking home from school. She was excited about her new photography project the teacher had assigned that afternoon. A chilly breeze ruffled through her hair as she thought again and again about what she was going to do. As she neared her house she gave a quick glance across the street to the long been empty lot. Later that evening, she was sitting on her front porch, her camera resting on her lap. The wind picked up. She suddenly heard a faint whisper, “Through the lens, through the lens.” April’s eyes bulged, “What was that?” She shuddered, glancing across the street. At the end, though, she picked up her camera and hesitantly peeked through. And there it was a house, an old haunted looking house. She placed her camera back on her lap. But, the house was gone. There but now gone. Running inside she grabbed her coat and dashed back out the door. She rapidly made her way across the street and came face to face with the invisible home. She knocked on the door. No one answered. She slowly pushed open the barely alive door. “Hello?” April’s voice echoed against the old, rickety walls. She stepped inside half expecting for something to happen. The bookshelves were lined with old, dusky books form the 1800’s. As the skipped over the missing wood planks in the floor, she was able to read what the books were about. Photography. Plain photography. “Wow”, she murmured in awe.

The next day, after school, she jumped off the large yellow bus, dashing towards the house that won her an A. But, looking through the lens, nothing appeared to her eyes. The house was gone.





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