Joan Blake lay fast asleep in her bed. The dust from the early sunset floated around the room, being penetrated through the scarlet curtains. She awoke at 6.20am, rolled out of bed and pulled the curtains open. The sun rested just above the houses on the street opposite. Joan seized the opportunity for a photo. She threw on some clothes, walked down the stairs, grabbed her disposable camera from the table at the bottom of the stairs and walked out of the front door.
Her house being at the beginning of the road, she was in the perfect position to get a good snap at the sunrise. Looking through the lens, she saw the empty pavement, the houses on the opposite street and a gorgeous sunset. With no-one around, she took the pictures with no interruption.
Walking back into the house, she fed her dog, dusted the mantelpieces and then decided to get the photos developed. With still nobody around, she put a coat on and left for the local printing shop.
Walking home, she held the envelope with the photos in her hand, wanting to know how they had turned out. Greeted by her dog at the front door, she walked over to the table and grabbed her gold letter opener. She lifted out the photos and looked at them in horror. The picture was the photo that she had taken- the sunrise. However, at the end of the road, where there should have been nothing, like there was when the picture had been taken, Joan Blake saw herself. Saw herself standing at the end of the road with gnarled arms and hands and an eerie artificial smile. She stared at the picture with utter terror, not knowing what to do. She looked at the other pictures. They were the same. The same sinister smile and arms that every small child makes when they want to scare someone- arched just below shoulder length with gnarled bent fingers. Joan Blake, perplexed, walked upstairs, went to bed and never woke up. A peaceful end to a life tinged with murderous rage.