Mansion Original

When I snapped this  image in October, I wasn’t too impressed with the result. It didn’t spark my imagination, which is always a bad sign. I was in a hurry and used my camera phone, which was zoomed in a bit too much. Even though this house has stories to tell, I didn’t feel any of them that day. My creativity felt closed off. Since I’m a writer, and not a photographer, it’s normal if I am not immediately able to capture a visual; I tuck everything away until the time is right. I’m familiar enough with this house, which is in my home city, to know that the intuitive call to my creative process would happen, eventually and beautifully.

After a conversation with Jennifer from Quirk’n It, I decided to wade through the 1300+ photos on my phone. When I saw this one, it struck me differently than it did two months ago. I was playing around with some effects, when it hit me: for the last few months, I’ve been writing a short story featuring this house in triplicate. The house is not the star, nor was it the impetus for the piece, but it’s there just the same: altered, transformed, re-imagined into something else. All before I took the photograph. Remembered from previous glimpses, from some unremembered or unnoticed tucking away.

Mansion Original Version

Mansion-Altered Version # 1: Because my story is a bit eerie, I chose effects that dimmed the mansion’s bright, well-kept beauty.

Mansion-Altered Version #2: It’s beginning to look as if scary things could happen here.

Mansion-Altered Version #3: Or, perhaps they already did.

Mansion-Altered Version #4-You should probably turn around and leave, before it is too late.

“No one would know if you went pokin’ around the back with your camera. It’s a real boneyard back there, too. Kind of like the insides of a museum was tossed outside and left to rot. There’s beauty in everything, I suppose. Even in neglect.”**

*”Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”-Edgar Allan Poe

**This is an excerpt from my short story, The Brothers’ Boneyard. No stealing, please.