Click. Click. Click.
I swear if my camera was a living organism, its shutter would’ve bitten off my fingers already. I’ve been clicking and capturing for the last hour and a half, and I’ve been trashing a fourth of the hundreds of shots I’ve taken.
I let loose a breath. One, two, three, four, five... I took a deep breath once more. My mind feels restless and empty, the sound of my inner voice bouncing off walls in faint echoes, and I’m losing my grasp—
Deep breaths, I thought to myself before I could freeze and get lost in a daze in the middle of a park. The foliage was just beginning to lose its bright green pigment above me, shades of burgundy and sunset oranges creeping up in its place. The early morning sunlight shone through the canopies and lit my face as I continued to stare up. Good, you’re making progress. Keep going.
I had to. I had to pass my final portfolio by tomorrow, and all I’ve been able to achieve are trash-worthy ones.
A teen couple making their daily jogs passed by me, talking in hushed tones and subtle laughs as their footfalls on the pavements were no more than faint whispers in the wind. “So much for inspiration,” I muttered out loud and gave another sigh of frustration.
I urged myself to remain focused and resume scouting the park for better subjects. I don’t know why I even chose to be here. There are certainly more interesting places to find subjects—the mall, for example, where our town’s daily dose dramas usually occur, or perhaps the wet market where a lot of stories can be drawn out— but I woke up this morning with a certainty that I had to be here for this.
So here I am, walking the cracked stone pathways of a park, eyes trained on every plant I could possibly use as a focal point and a butterfly fluttered just above my head—
A butterfly. Perfect timing.
I followed the creature, its black and green patterned wings shimmering in the buttery light of the sun. I practically ran after it, perhaps looking a bit like a child, but I didn’t care. My heart beat with excitement as I felt a spark of inspiration jolting me. I could hear the invisible gears in my head turning and clicking into place like a final puzzle piece finally fitting into the jigsaw.
Click, click, click, my camera went as I captured the creature mid-flight —it’s delicate wings flapping mightily in the air. It slowed to a hover over bougainvillea bushes near the park’s man-made lake, where I stopped in my tracks as I beheld its last moments.
I slowly walked over to the bushes, its pink blooms bursting spilling through the greenery.
Click.
Beauty and the Beast, I decided I’d call it. The mighty wings were now stuck to a spider web by the hedgerows, the creatures legs clinging onto the silk. Another tiny creature with eight spindly legs was now scuttling over to the butterfly, its legs poised to strike its meal, as I made one last click.
“That seems a rather morbid subject for your portfolio,” said a very familiar voice from behind me. I turned to say something , but he looked me dead in the eye and continued, “You know, sometimes, I really wish I could understand how your mind works.”
“What I put in my work isn’t your business, and me being morbid isn’t yours to mind either,” I snap at him. He may be the class favourite, but that doesn’t give him privilege to advising me—in fact, I loathe him.
“Maybe, but I’m not some kind of robot or even a stupid person to see through you, you know. Just wanted to let you know you’re not alone, sunshine,” he replied with sad smile.
My brain starts descending into a spiral again, my focus slipping from me...
I jumped back to reality as his warm hand touched my arm lightly. “Are you okay?”
No. Why he wants to have an inkling of what happens inside my brain is a question to me, but I’m not ready to fall into a spider’s trap yet—at least its what I think this is.
Fly... Fight. “No, but I will be. Thanks,” I admit to him. I gave a tight lipped, and walked away before I could see the hurt in his eyes.
I kept worrying how I might be the helpless butterfly fluttering into a trap, but what if I was the Beast in the web?