Danny
The frosty grass crunched under my boots as I walked, trying not to trip over the muddy ridges left by people’s footsteps when the ground was soft, the cold air having since frozen the mud, leaving the perfect trap to try and trip me. Every so often, I reached a patch of ground where I assumed it would also be frozen, but instead my boots slipped on the mud and it squelched up the sides of my feet.
I listened for the sound of running water as I opened the gate with one hand, the other firmly on my camera, even though the strap was around my neck and there was no way it could fall. The river was close now, I knew because I had been this way many times before, several days in a row at this point. The setting sun sent rays of orange across the trees, the leaves dancing in the light. If there was a limit to the amount of pictures one could take of the setting sun, it’s rays pushing through trees and plants, the dimming light briefly illuminating the world in oranges for one last time before the morning, I had probably already passed it.
I stopped on the little metal bridge for a moment, looking down at the river. It was too low in the ground for me to get a good picture of it, the curve by the bridge and it being low in a trench making it difficult to even get close enough to try and get the angles I wanted. It was easier further along, where the field turned to path, and the river ran alongside it, but I didn’t want to go further along just yet. If I went now, I could get a good picture or two of the sun setting on the path, something I had yet to do. Along the path, I just had images of the moon rising in the pale blue sky. I had yet to get to the path in time to get the sunset.
But, there was a reason I didn’t continue. A reason why I looped around the edge of the field, to the furthest point I could reach before I was cut off by the river, a line of trees giving me something to lean against as I waited, and potentially duck behind. The sun was in front of me, spreading its last light over the ground. It had been a little cloudy the last few days, and I hadn’t had quite as clear a view of the sun, but today, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was also much colder, and my fingers had started to go numb, but I tried to ignore that fact because other than that, it was perfect.
Or it was when my whole reason for coming here nearly every day recently arrived.
She stepped off the path, the path that ran alongside the river, and into the field, her eyes on the ground as she tried not to slip on the patches of mud that fooled you into thinking they were solid ground. Her hair fell, covering her face, and she held her arms out to each side a little, as if to keep her balance, but by the quick little steps she was taking, travelling slightly side to side, not at all the careful and thought out steps that warranted holding your arms out for balance, it looked more like she was playing at being an airplane. I felt a grin tugging at my lips, and lifted my camera, lining it up with the sun behind her.
With the brightness of the sun behind her, her body turned into an almost silhouette against the oranges shining through the trees. She stopped walking, like she did every day, her back to me, as she looked through the trees at the setting sun. This what the moment I liked photographing the most. Her silhouette perfectly lining up with the sun, the light wrapping around her form like she was an angel. I lifted my camera, hoping to get the image before she moved.
The more I thought about why I came here each day, to get the perfect rendition of this image, the more I felt weirded out about myself. I hid in the shadows of the trees, and took pictures of this woman, again and again to get the perfect image. But, the more images I took and looked at, noting what didn’t quite work that time, or what I could do better next time, the more I saw her. The faint smile when the wind blows her hair back in time for me to capture it, the pink tinge on her cheeks and nose when it's bitterly cold, and she hugs her arms around her body. The little airplane walk she does every so often, the images making it look like she’s dancing.
I stepped forward, trying to get the shot lined up properly, but my foot slid in what I thought was solid ground, but instead was disguised mud. My front foot slid forwards and, not expecting to slip, and not prepared to catch myself, I felt myself falling. I twisted my body, the first thought on my mind the camera in my hands, and not landing on it. My shoulder was one of the first things to hit the ground, somehow landing on a patch of ground that was solid, instead of the mud that might’ve cushioned my fall even a little. I groaned, trying to keep my head off the floor in case that certain patch of ground also lied to me and my hair would sink into the mud.
I pushed myself to sit up, reaching my hand across my body to hold the shoulder I had landed on. It had started hurting immediately, the pain shooting up my neck from the awkward angle I had fallen at, trying to protect my camera.
“Are you alright?”
I looked up, half wincing at the extra pain it brought, and half squinting with the last rays of the sun directly in my eyes. The woman stood in front of me, reaching up to brush some hair out of her face.
“I think so.” I tried to roll my shoulder back, to prove that I was fine, but I only got halfway before I bailed and stopped, clenching my jaw to stop from making any noise. Whether it was simply badly bruised or broken, it felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.
She held out a hand to me, and I reached up with my good arm and took it, pushing my feet under me as she helped me to my feet. I mumbled a thanks, quickly checking over my camera to make sure my sacrifice hadn’t been for nothing, and that it wasn’t damaged.
“Is it alright?” She asked, and I looked up at her, wondering if she was talking about my shoulder or my camera. She nodded towards the camera when she saw my questioning look.
“Looks like it. My shoulder seemed to decide to take the impact so I could save the money getting a new one.” I was only half joking, but she smiled, revealing a dimple I had never captured in my pictures.
“I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you to lose the images before I even got a chance to look at them.” She said, still grinning, and I felt my stomach drop. She continued when I didn’t say anything. “You must have tons at this point, I’m starting to feel like you’re my personal sunset photographer.”
“I…” I trailed off, not knowing what to say. She knew? For how long? Now I feel even weirder about coming here just to take pictures of her.
“Don’t worry,” she reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re not the only one who’s been coming here to see someone. There are much quicker routes I could take to get home, but this one seems to have become my favourite.” My mind went blank of things to say, and she smiled again. “Can I walk you home, to make sure you’re not badly hurt from that fall, and to maybe see the pictures? I’m absolutely desperate to see them.”
No words came to my mind, so I just nodded.
And done!
The inspiration of this was simply a walk my brother and I took yesterday. He has a camera, I just used my phone camera, but we were taking pictures of the sunset in a setting exactly the same as the one in this story.
We weren't taking pictures of people we didn't know, and we haven't been half stalking people like in this story, but still.
That's all for now...
Bye!
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