Complete the short story/flash fiction, that has the following opening:
The camera never lies. Oh sure, you can manipulate the pictures afterwards to make them appear like almost anything happened, but the raw picture always shows the truth. What is the truth, though? Is it what we see with our eyes or the camera? When our eyes and the camera disagree what do we belueve?
I was thinking this, and why the hell did I let my boss give me this assignment, while waiting in the cold October rain. Two people were going to be neeting, two very important and influential people. My job was to take their picture and get it back to the office for the early edition of the paper. Yes, the print edition. Apparently the Editor thought that it would sell out the early edition and cause a flurry of activity on the Web site. Use one medium to sell the other. I didn’t care, I just wanted a hot cup of coffee.
I blew on my hands to keep them warm, rubbing them together in an effort to get that blood circulating, when I saw the first headlights approach. I checked the camera, making sure that the batteries were fully charged and the memory card was empty. I made sure the camera’s flash was off before I looked at the s energy through the viewfinder. Crystal clear. I zoomed in and took a quick picture of the person in the back seat of the car. I checked the display on the canera. Yup, that’s the President.
The car stopped and as I looked a car came from the opposite direction, coming to a stop no more than fifty feet from the President. I zoomed in on the occupant of this car, but the shadows made it difficult to determine who it was. My Editor said it was going to be the Prime Minister of England, but something dudn’t sit right with me. Security didn’t seem British, it seemed too informal. I just shook my head and started taking more pictures, thankful I had turned off that damn clicking sounder on the camera.
The figure gets out of the car. Click. Exposes face in a streetlight. Cluck. It’s a woman with long brown hair. Click. She looks at the President’s car. Click. She smiles. Click. She turns to her left and says something to a member of the security detail. Click. He pulls something from his pocket. Click. He pushes a button. Click. The President’s car explodes. Click. Oh shit. Click. Everyone is screaming. Click. The woman laughs. Click. Click. Click.
Post a link to the story in the comments.