THE CURSED PHOTO
CHAPTER 1
It all begins so simply, so ordinary, it seems pointless.
It’s a Saturday afternoon, and the autumn light filters through the stained glass windows of the neighborhood thrift store, casting long shadows across the shelves.
Garrett is spending his time wandering through forgotten stories, just as any book lover would.
The store’s owner is Mrs. Nova Roline, a sixty-year-old woman with thick glasses, dozing behind the register. The boy wanders silently among the shelves, afraid to disturb the tranquility.
Inside a dust-filled cardboard box, tucked away in a corner, he finds a book. Midnight Bell, a horror novel published in 1987.
The cover appears yellowed, the edges frayed, but the text is still legible. The author is a name Garrett has never heard of or read anywhere: Declan Ristian. He begins leafing through the volume; the contents are imbued with that typical 1980s horror atmosphere, imbued with the sinister allure of that era. Plus, the price seems right: $15.
He decides to buy it. After paying, he tucks the book under his arm and heads home. On the way, he passes the diner he frequents and spots familiar faces chatting inside; as always, life flows calmly and easily. But the young man could never have imagined that the book he holds under his arm will be the spark that ignites his entire life.
Back home, the eighteen-year-old makes himself a pot of tea and then collapses on the living room sofa. Outside, the sky is gradually darkening, so he turns on the table lamp, determined to dive into his reading. As he opens the book, something slips out. It’s a photograph that, slipping from those pages, has gently fallen onto his lap.
Garrett pauses for a second, then grabs the image and examines it carefully. An old photograph with yellowed paper and slightly creased edges. The grain is evident: the unmistakable texture of the film era.
The background boasts wallpaper with complex and intricate patterns that are unmistakably reminiscent of 1980s decor.
In the photograph, two figures dominate the scene: a woman with golden hair and a man with dark hair, embracing each other. The woman sports a hairstyle typical of those years: voluminous, fluffy, and wild. She’s wearing a sweater with shoulder pads that would make an American football player jealous, and she’s beaming with a smile. The man, young and attractive, wears a plaid shirt and casually puts his arm around her shoulders.
The entire image exudes a sense of nostalgia, almost forcing the eighteen-year-old to imagine a sentimental love story from those times. Perhaps two lovers immortalizing a special moment.
Garrett glances at the book and then at the photograph. Has someone used that precious memory as a bookmark? Or was it accidentally forgotten? the young man muses. The fact is, it’s now in his hands.
He decides to use the photo as a bookmark. Ultimately, the image and this 1980s horror novel fit together perfectly because of the era, creating a strangely successful union.
Garrett inserts the photograph between pages 10 and 11 and immediately begins reading.
Midnight Bell captivates him from the first pages: a young journalist investigating an old haunted mansion. The writing style seems effective, even if a little stiff at times, but the atmosphere is just right. Garrett is so engrossed in his reading that he doesn’t notice the passage of time.
After an hour, his eyes begin to burn, so he decides to take a break. He turns the pages until he reaches the photo, eager to take another look at that singular, old snapshot.
And it’s then that he notices something strange. The first time his attention was drawn to the couple, but now, under the lamplight, he notices something else lurking in the lower left corner. He glimpses the edge of a sofa, and it looks like someone else is sitting on it.
Garrett brings the photograph closer, squinting to study it carefully. Someone is certainly present—the figure points to that of a woman—but curiously, where a face should be, there’s only an unnatural blur...not the usual blur, but something that seems to have been deliberately altered.
The eighteen-year-old’s heart begins to race.
Looking more closely, he notices another sinister detail: over the blonde woman’s right shoulder, next to the man’s hand, another hand is visible... slender, feminine, and even from the angle, it’s clear it can’t belong to the dark-haired man.
Garrett drops the image and rubs his eyes. Perhaps it’s his imagination, or perhaps the photo has simply deteriorated over time. Old photos can often develop strange marks. It could be caused by camera shake, development problems, or poor storage.
With these clarifications, he reassures himself and returns to reading. But that unpleasant feeling of anguish doesn’t leave him. Every time he opens that page, he can’t help but look at the photo again. And with each careful glance, he becomes more convinced that those disturbing details are real: that erased face, that extra hand...they’ve always been there, waiting to be found.
Meanwhile, the night grows darker, and only the table lamp provides a source of light in the living room...a yellowish, unhealthy glow. He closes the book and picks up the photograph again. Under the lamplight, the surface of the photo emits a faint shimmer, further highlighting those strange details.
Garrett begins to fantasize about a possible story behind that image. Who is the faceless woman? Why is she in the photo, and why did someone intentionally blur it? And who owns that hand, placed where it shouldn’t be?
The more he thinks about it, the more convinced he is that this isn’t just a photograph.
He turns it over, hoping for clues. A handwritten note appears on the back, but time has made most of the words indecipherable. He can barely recognize any of them:
1982...summer...last
Last thing?
He stares at those confused words, trying to interpret their meaning. What happened in the summer of 1982? Why mark it with the word “last”?
A shiver runs down his spine.
The eighteen-year-old realizes that image probably doesn’t capture a happy memory, but something dark. The erased face, the extra hand, those enigmatic words...they point to some buried secret.
Garrett places the photo back inside the book, but he can’t shake that feeling of unease. Those details—which seem to have a life of their own—keep resurfacing in his mind. He begins to regret buying that book, and discovering that damned photograph. But at the same time, he feels a burning curiosity. Where did that photo come from? Why was it hidden in that horror story? What do those bizarre details mean?
The boy glances at the clock: it’s almost midnight. Common sense tells him to go to bed and leave all these dark thoughts behind. But the moment he turns off the lamp and darkness engulfs the room, Garrett almost feels that image quivering with a kind of sinister energy between the pages, as if waiting for something.
