Author's note: Hi. This is a rewrite of a fic I wrote a VERY long time ago, The Worst camping trip ever... I was going to finish it but after reading it, I realized that it was pretty darn awful so I'm going to try writing it again. I've left it up but please bare in mind that it was written the best part of 10 years ago. Obviously a lot changes in that much time. Whilst this version bares some similarity to the original, there will be many differences notably in format and grammatical errors.
That being said, I hope you enjoy it. Please don't hesitate to review. Any/all opinions are welcome.
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There were three copies of a photo which existed in the world. They were each very much the same whilst also being remarkably different. A family of four features prominently on them: a young couple and two boys, the oldest was about eight and the youngest no more than four. They were close, smiling and so obviously happy.
The first of the pictures showed its age. It was folded and worn around its corners. Curiously, despite the damage, the photo itself remained bright, rarely ever seeing the light of day. It lived its life in the inner pocket of its owners jacket, pressed up tightly against his heart. Should it ever be removed, it was only briefly, in times of great solitude. He would look around him, to ensure that nobody would ever see his moment's weakness. Then, he would give it a longing glance, a reminder of what had once been and never would be. A time long gone and when he had once been happy. He could have spent hours simply starring back at the image and remembering better times. It was a bitter-sweat escape as its owner knew all too well that what had been lost could never be found again.
The second had been worn by the sun. It sat in a little frame, pretty but nothing too fancy. The four faces kept watch of the owner whilst he slept. It had sat in the same spot for many years now, only being moved when it was time for dusting and being carefully placed back down with infinite precision when he was done. He had a ritual, every morning when he woke up, he would greet them with a 'hello' and would bit them goodnight before going to sleep. Sometimes, he would simply sit there and talk to them. Three faces of people who couldn't possibly hear him both because they were too far away and also, he knew too well, would no longer listen. Still, the image brought some comfort. It reminded him that despite everything, he wasn't entirely alone…
The last one was immaculate, sealed away in a small silver locket which never left its owners' pocket. It hadn't seen the light of day in a long while. If it was ever removed from the jacket, then it was never opened and was simply moved to another place where once again it would be sealed away. Its owner never looked, he didn't care to even do so much as think about it more than he had to. It was a symbol of anger for him, everything that had gone wrong in his life and the person who was to blame. There was a small piece of damage to the image, a set of scratches across the face of one of the figures which almost blurred out their features completely.
All three hadn't been in the same place for years, which was almost the same for their owners. Occasionally, two of them might encounter each other but for all three to be united? That was a truly rare event. There had been many attempts of course.
Today though, things were different and know it or not, all three were going to be reunited, even if two of them at least didn't quite know it yet.