I don’t remember where we got it. My parents had kept the photo album on the living room table for years. Nobody’s touched it, but there it sits, festering dust with each week.
I never gave it a second glance. It was always a part of my life, and by now I would gloss over it as I walked past. Just a simple decoration, like any other object.
But as soon as Mr. Holley said we needed to present a ‘family artifact’, I had no question in mind on what I’d choose. Nothing held more insignificant importance to my house than the photo album. Not to mention it would pass as old - for something that never gets touched, it looked like it’d been through hell and back. It probably had been.
There was only one drawback- it was heavier than it looked. Much heavier, in fact, to the point where I couldn’t carry it in my backpack.
I could hardly hold it with my hands. As insane as it sounds, this book was easily nearly 30 pounds. It wasn’t impossible, but walking around with it for minutes at a time was strenuous.
I had to keep it along until my fifth hour.
I managed to convince my friend Todd into carrying it for me. Even he thought it was strangely weighted.
Sitting in the courtyard at lunch he turned and asked me, “What’s in there, anyway? Wedding photos? My parents have a book of those, but it’s not nearly as heavy. Or as… strange.”
“Not a clue,” I admitted. “When I crack this bad boy open, it’ll be equally as surprising for me as everyone else.”
The logic here wasn’t the most sound, but I figured ‘what’s possibly in there?’ No writing on the cover, not a hint to the contents. But, god, it came from my living room. And of course, hitting every cliche in the books, I thought, how bad could it be?
You can imagine my surprise.
It was Todd’s idea to give it a check before I brought it in, to make sure it wasn’t empty or full of images that… weren’t school appropriate. I argued it couldn’t be empty if it meant so much to my parents, and my parents knew better than to leave their porn scrapbook on the table, but he had a point.
Besides, bullshitting presentations was never my strong suit.
On the outer edge of the green, just past the patio which bustled with students on their lunch break, Todd and I kneeled in the grass. The book sat flat in front of us.
“It has that smell,” Todd remarked. “Old people scent.”
Simply, I nodded. Personally, I thought it was mustier.
I locked eyes with Todd, tentatively opened the front cover. I half expected something to jump out at me. At the very least, something incriminating.
It was a normal photo album. Pictures of people doing various things. Upper right hand corner, my dad in the tub with a keg, buddies standing around him. Lower left hand corner, second page, my great aunt throwing a bouquet.
Fourth page, a young photo of my grandmother, holding a dripping ice cream cone at the park, a creepy guy looking over from afar.
Record scratch. Rewind. What the hell is up with that.
“Check that guy out,” I commented. Todd leaned over, slightly bent into the pages. He ran his finger over the picture, brows furrowed.
“I saw him in another picture. He a friend of yours?”
“I literally have never seen that man in my life.” He looked like some sort of PD, big trench coat and bowler hat. The whole shebang, completed with a pair of dark tinted sunglasses.
His mouth was his only visible facial feature, along with a prominent jawline and apparently down turned nose. I could see the tip, just under the shading of his hat.
If you aren’t catching what I’m throwing, he looked creepy as hell.
I’ll admit I shivered a little, looking at it. I looked over to Todd, who shared a sort of expression which can only be described as one you’d share with someone when you’re both thinking ‘holy crap.’
After a moment, I pulled myself out of that mentality and allowed myself to flip the page.
I was grateful to see another set of normal pictures. Top left, my cousin sitting with Santa Claus at the mall. Bottom right, a third cousin twice removed (or was it second cousin thrice removed?) sitting in the living room with noise makers and goggles reading ‘2009’. New Years.
All was well and good again. Normal family photos in my normal family photo book. The one picture was just a funny coincidence, although you’d have to have a pretty strange sense of humor to think so.
Then again… I spoke too soon.
It was Todd who noticed it. One of the passerby’s in the mall, body walking across the image, head turned 90 degrees to look straight at my cousin, or the camera man. The same sharp jawline, thin pointed lips.
And even worse, too close to home for comfort, a silhouette behind the blinds in the home window. I would have liked to try and pass it off as a terrible, terrible coincidence but deep in my gut I knew there was no way.
It wouldn’t have made it any better, no matter who’s silhouette was outside the house, but the jarring feeling in my gut that it was that man made it all so much worse. He was always there, not too close, but just close enough.
The creepiest part, though, was how he was in pictures with these different people. They weren’t there pictures of my grandparents, or of my aunt, or anything. It was people who only ever met up at family reunions, people who lived miles away.
And he was never close enough to be apart of the family. This wasn’t a family friend, there was no reason for him to be there. The deeper I thought into it, the more unsettled I became.
He’d been in the ice cream photo. And Todd had said he noticed him another time, too. His recurrence got me thinking. And it got Todd thinking, too.
I heard Todd swallow dryly beside me. “You don’t think..” His voice faded into open air.
I definitely thought.
I hesitantly flipped back to the beginning pages of the scrapbook, and one by one examined the images. I was relieved, at first, not to see him. There was no shaded down face, no trench coat.
But when I looked closer, there he was. There he always was. In the reflection of the keg, in the crowd around my aunt. Always in the background, always someone passing by. Shielded enough you could miss him if you weren’t looking.
Until the picture of my distant cousin.
Todd and I continued flipping the pages, hearts feeling heavier than the book itself as we played our messed up game of ‘Where’s Waldo’. The further we got through, the more it appeared he was getting closer and closer to the camera, slipping further and further out of the background and slowly into the foreground.
I watched in anticipation, letting Todd take the lead in turning the pages. I didn’t tell him to stop, I could tell neither of us would be able to.
Two pages left in the book, Todd flipped the page.
My breath seemed to leave my nose in slow motion, my heart rate slowed to a mellow beat.
The next two pages were pictures of us. Of us, sitting on the grass, just outside of the school. Of us, with the book in front of us, our expressions slowly, ever so slowly, transforming into the looks of terror we wore now.
And in each picture, a figure looked closer. In the first two, you could hardly see it. The next, barely a silhouette, creeping closer and closer and closer. Until the last page.
As if being pulled by an unseen force, Todd and I glanced at each other, our eyes tense. Neither of us breathed.
Excruciatingly slowly, he turned the page. I begged myself to look away, but I couldn’t tear my eyes off the page.
There, in the final two pictures, he stood right behind us. So close, he could reach out and touch us. It almost felt like there was someone breathing down my neck.
Almost…
Against my will, any sense of better judgement, I gulped and slowly turned myself around. I nailed my eyes shut, too afraid to face whatever was waiting for me. I knew I was being paranoid, but I couldn’t help it. My heart pounded in my ears, and I could hear my blood rushing.
I counted down now, racking up the bravery to face whatever came next. ‘There’s nobody behind you,’ I told myself, ‘it’s just a funny prank. Silly little coincidence.’
Three…
Deep breath in. Nothing to worry about. Todd’s right here with me.
Two….
I knew well enough to know I was lying to myself.
One…
As my eyes finally opened, just barely grasping the sight in front of me, I heard only two words.
“Say cheese.”