#luc_fics

The darkness of an alley with painted dark red on its floors and walls— a stench of death flows in the aisle. The ruins of a fight between a Hero and a Villain, debris and dust fill up a once bustling place. A shaky photo of a person in white, a snap to be let off his fingers, on top of a rooftop. Photos that could be taken by anyone, an ordinary person, a commoner and these were taken by The Commoner, Lin Ling.

However, in the brink of a moment, he was suddenly gone. Radio silence from all his social media, not a single post in sight. Only his photographs remained, was it a form of memorial? Silence from a known guy whose reputation was someone obsessed with photos— strange.

Time has passed since The Commoner’s disappearance but Lin Ling still exists. Photography is his everything, there was nothing that meant more than his photos. He stands, angles, and shoots— a practiced sequence he perfected over the years. Yet, his camera weights like a ton of bricks on his neck, the spark that kept him going lays dormant in his chest. There was nothing to photograph, nothing extraordinary, inspirational, adrenaline rushing, blood curling, and dread inducing. Just emptiness, in his heart and hands.

It kept on going until this instance. He walks on an alleyway in the calmness of the night. The alley is completely dark and screams nothing but a crime waiting to happen. Nonetheless, this was the only way for Lin Ling to reach his apartment and it isn’t his first rodeo on these dangerous streets (his photographs say so).

Rustle.

Lin ling slows his steps as his eyes look in different directions in the alley. He hears rustling, deep inhales of breaths, and an occasional gurgling. He clutches his DSLR camera to his chest, if he’s getting robbed, one thing he will never give is his treasure (his purpose). He presses himself on the wall before the sudden turn in the alley, listening to the sounds on the other side. The gurgling stops and he feels a shiver run on his spine, his heartbeat speeds up as he feels adrenaline rush into his body.

He feels his heart thumping in his ears as he opens his camera, adjusting the settings to better fit the night. As silence completely settles in the alley, like any sane man, he steps and points his camera with practiced ease on the scene right in front of him.

Click.

A scream— so loud, Ling feels his ears ring and goosebumps form on his skin. Then nothing, only the desperate gurgling sound of death emits from the man laying on filth and the thick red liquid splattered on the ground. Ling had taken the photos, a bloodied fish coming down on a man to ram on his face again. A burst of blood then a splash on the walls, on the floor, and the once pristine white clothes of the assaulter.

Why was he not able to smell the blood? Some were already old, some were already dry and clinging on the dumpster right beside the body. He trembles, fear settling in his bones and yet he does not let go of his camera. He presses the shutter.

Snap. Click. Snap.

The man stopped making noises a long time ago. Ling feels a smile creep on his face, realizing the amount of shots he had taken, the most he had in years. He giggles a bit, an emotion he has not felt in years swirling in his chest as he looks at the man in white (red).

He lowers his camera and looks at the blood pooling on the person’s hands and feet. The white hair with specks of blood and the white clothes with splashes of red.

Perfect.

Perfect. It was the only way Lin Ling could describe this man in front of him. His body is built beautifully, sculpted by the most dainty hands who had taken aeons to craft a perfect being. A figure sent from the heavens.

He is beautiful but what strikes him the most is his eyes.

His blue eyes stare at him like his death has come. The swirling feeling in his chest amplifies as those eyes did nothing but pierce through him and his soul. Lin Ling feels his smile grow and his own eyes shining brightly with a new glint. Amazing.