Sunday Photo Fiction 11-7-2017

“Don’t,” he said, glancing over at the camera.

“But…”

“Pick up the camera and I’m gone.”

“But nobody will believe me.”

“Tough shit.”

“Bastard.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I bet.”

Shrug.

“So, tell me what happened.”

“Pinkert lied.”

“About what?”

“Promises. Platform, whatever you wish to call it.”

“And….”

“And, his past.”

“What about his past?”

“I’m not sure I want to talk about that.”

“Isn’t that what you called me to talk about?”

A long silence.

“I suppose.”

“So talk.”

“He …. abuses little boys.”

“Were you one of those boys?”

A longer silence.

Finally, “Yes.”

“So….”

“No more details.”

Silence.

“If I hadn’t come forward, nobody would know, now would they?”

“The political atmosphere is pretty vicious these days. He would have been found out eventually.”

“Eventually isn’t good enough.”

“You have proof?”

“Proof?”

“Without details to check, I need proof for my Editor to print this.”

“Pictures?”

“Pictures are good if they are authentic.”

“They’re authentic, all right.”

They both rose, neither offering to shake hands.

Darkness and shame walked one way.

Pulitzer Prizes and glory walked the other.

 


It seems fitting this conversation came up today, Election Day. Make of that what you may:) Thanks for reading.

5 thoughts on “Sunday Photo Fiction 11-7-2017

  1. So much packed in here and such a troubling topic. I hope the journalist is thinking about more than just the prizes he will win and more about the good he will be doing, and I hope the victim is able to get support and closure.

    Liked by 1 person

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