Jaune Arc: Goosebumps Storyteller

by vanquish356

Jaune always did love telling stories, especially to his younger sisters. He even had a book filled with cheesy horror stories that his sisters loved. But after coming to Beacon, he thought he would never tell stories again. However, that wasn't the case when Ruby began asking him for stories, soon followed by Nora. Little did he know that this would cause a domino effect.

7. Chapter 7

Jaune Arc: Goosebumps Storyteller

Chapter 7: Say Cheese and Die

"What are you doing with the Say Cheese and Die Camera?!" Roman asked, looking side to side in case anything was about to happen.

"The what?" Everyone else asked, confused.

"Don't lie to us. How did you come across the accursed camera?"

"Accursed camera? Don't you think that's a bit of an exaggeration?" Weiss asked.

"Yeah. It's just an- Where did it go?" Coco asked, after not seeing the camera next to Velvet.

"What do you mean? It was just... here?" Velvet asked, looking around.

"Thanks, Neo." Roman said, getting their attention. Turning back to them, they realized that Neo had grabbed the camera when no one was paying attention to it. However, before they could say anything, they noticed the pure disdain and hatred Roman and Neo directed toward the camera.

"Why are they looking at it like that?" Yang whispered, curious but also slightly concerned. She knew the criminal duo was generally undaunted with whatever life threw at them. That was how they managed to get away with most of the crimes. So to see them like this was generally concerning.

"I'm not sure. But whatever the reason, it can't be good." Yatsuhashi said.

"That's an understatement." Roman said, with Neo nodding.

"I take it that the camera caused something bad to happen." Weiss said.

"Let me put it like this. Ever heard of the phrase a picture is worth a thousand words?" Roman asked.

"Yeah." The others answered.

"Well, with this camera. A picture is not worth a thousand words. Rather, it is worth a thousand screams."

"That's not... Okay. You lost me. I'm not sure what that means." Coco said.

"Figures." Roman muttered. However, he then saw the book that was on the table.

"We can think about it another time. Right now, we need to find Jaune." Pyrrha said.

"Jaune. You mean Jaune Arc? Blonde kid, blue eyes, kind of scrawny?"

"Yes."

"How do you know him?" Neo signed. However, she became slightly annoyed when no one answered, only to remember that only Roman could tell what she was trying to communicate.

"Uh, what did she say?" Ruby asked.

"Right." Roman said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He did find it funny that, despite working with Neo for so long, he often forgot that she was mute. A product of how well they worked together that they didn't words to discuss what they were going to do next. "Neo asked how do you all know Jaune."

"Oh. He's our friend and teammate." Ren answered.

"And soon to be more than just a friend. Right, Velvet?" Coco asked, smirking. Only to laugh a second later when Velvet attempted to cover the blush that threatened to take over her face by covering her face with her bunny ears.

"So, he's your friend. I take it he also read you some stories from the book on the table." Roman said, pointing to the book. The dummy on the front cover caused shivers to run rampant down his body. A feeling he hadn't felt since his encounter with those guardians and the robot doppelgangers when his parents sent him to the "Perfect School" when he was a lot younger.

"Yeah. It has some of the best cheesy horror stories we have ever heard." Nora answered.

"But some of them, I don't think, are just cheesy horror stories. I think some of them actually happened." Blake added.

"Yeah. Some seemed a bit too coincidental." Yang said, recalling their meeting with Lucy. While she couldn't put her finger on it, something told her that Lucy was actually the girl from the story.

"While I only heard one story, some details seemed a bit suspicious. It was almost like they were real, and Jaune didn't make them up for his story." Weiss added.

"This can't be good." Roman whispered to Neo, who nodded. "What stories did Jaune tell you?"

"And who listened to them first?" Neo asked with Roman translating.

"Ruby and I were the first ones to listen to Jaune's stories. And the first story he read to us was The Headless Ghost. The one where three ghosts were living in a house a sea captain built." Nora answered.

"Alright. Not too bad since they keep to themselves in the house and are friendly to all except troublemakers." Roman said.

"Then came the story: The Girl Who Cried Monster." Yang said.

"Again. Not bad."

"But I still think the Lucy girl we met a while ago is the same Lucy in the story."

"Who was Lucy again?" Neo signed.

"The one whose parents were monsters that ate other monsters. They kept the monster population in check, specifically the ones that pose a threat to regular people." Roman answered.

"Got it."

"What story is next?"

"Next was Velvet and me. And the story was the House of No Return." Blake answered.

"And Jaune told it to us while we were in an abandoned house." Velvet added.

"They should really condemn that freaking building." Roman muttered, annoyed. "Everyone got out of the house, right? No one stayed behind?"

"No. We all made it out." Yang answered.

"Any other stories?" Neo asked.

"The next was The Werewolf of Fever Swamp." Ruby said.

"And ironically, we were next to a swamp when Jaune told us the story." Velvet added.

"But I'm sure that Grady kid was the werewolf. I swear I saw fur on his arm and his eyes turning yellow for a few seconds." Blake said.

"I'm not too sure about that, Blake. But it would make sense why he wore a heavy sweater when it was warm outside." Yang said.

"At least Grady has control over it." Roman muttered before clearing his throat. "Any other stories?"

"Only one. And that was the story he just told us. And it was Beware: The Snowman." Weiss answered.

"At least with that one, the monster is gone, and Jaclyn's father is ensuring no other magical monsters pop up." Roman said to Neo.

"At the very least. But I'm still not going back there. I prefer Vale, where it is warm, and there are no talking snowmen."Neo signed.

"Yeah, I feel the same." Roman agreed before turning back to the others. "Is that it?"

"Yeah. That was it." Yang answered.

"But what does all this have to do with the camera? And why did you ask about Jaune?" Pyrrha asked, still confused. But she was more worried for Jaune.

"And make it quick. We still need to find Velvet's crush." Coco added, causing the poor Faunus girl to blush again.

"Look at this." Neo signed, showing Roman the photo.

"Well, the camera and questions have to do with everything since Blake and Yang are correct." Roman said, surprising the others.

"What do you mean?" Yatsuhashi asked.

"All those stories are real. And Jaune didn't run off. He disappeared."

"Disappeared how?" Coco asked, skeptical.

"The camera." Roman answered.

"We don't believe you." Weiss said.

"Figures. Let me show you." Turning toward the counter, where two employees were working, Roman took a photo with the camera producing the picture a second later. "Now, before I show you. Tell me. What do you think is on the picture?"

"What's the point of this?" Blake asked.

"Humor me and answer the question."

"The two employees working behind the counter." Ren answered.

"Wrong." Roman said before flipping the picture to show them. And to say they were surprised would have been a massive understatement. Instead of two employees working behind the counter, the photo showed a destroyed counter with one employee knocked out and the other clutching his head in agony. And the cause of it was the chandelier crashing into the counter.

"How did-" Ren began but stopped when they heard the sound of something cracking.

"WATCH OUT!" One of the employees shouted, followed by a crashing sound. Quickly turned back to the counter, everyone saw that the chandler had come loose and crashed into the counter, knocking out one employee and injuring the other.

"Did-Did the camera just predict the future?" Coco asked, now regretting her decision to buy the camera.

"No, it didn't. It did something far worse." Roman answered before tearing up the photo. "And it is the reason why your Jaune disappeared."

"So, how do we bring him back?" Velvet asked, worried for her crush.

"By doing this." Roman answered, tearing up the photo.

"How is that going to help?" Pyrrha asked, thoroughly confused. But before Roman could answer, a pair of medics came rushing through the door. However, while the others and Neo didn't see it, Roman noticed that one of the paramedics was acting a bit strange as they tended to the injured employees. While he couldn't put his finger on it at first, he immediately knew why the paramedic was acting this way and snapping his head every time he heard the buzzing of an insect.

'I better tell the Darks that another Mortman is in town.' Roman thought, glaring at the figure while adjusting the grip on his cane. "I think it would be better if we discuss it somewhere else. For safety reasons. Come on."

Not even letting them answer, Roman quickly went over to the door and ushered them out, all the while glaring at the paramedic. Confused but also wanting to know more so they could help their friend, the others got up and exited the shop.

Ten Minutes Later

Nearby Park

"I don't care. Do you want to get on her bad side? You know what happened last time. Just do it." Roman shouted into his scroll before hanging up. He then put away his scroll before sitting down next to Neo at a park table. Luckily, it was big enough for everyone to sit together.

"What was that about?" Blake asked, curious.

"I called in a few favors. Now some... workers I trust are on the lookout for Jaune." Roman answered while taking out the photo.

"Shouldn't we help them?" Velvet asked, causing Roman to sigh.

"It's... not that easy." Roman began.

"How so?" Ren asked.

"Well, the camera is unpredictable. But not how you think. It does not predict the future. It changes it, and never for the better. It is always for the worse, far worse."

"Can you predict what it might show?" Weiss asked.

"No. We, along with many others, tried but couldn't find a way to predict what the camera might show. It is too random, with no consistency between photos. Not to mention, there is no limit to what it can change."

"Can you give us some examples?" Coco asked.

"It can make you fat, thin, small as a mouse, tall as a building, turn you into a skeleton, etc. There is no limit to what the camera can change."

"Does it only affect people? Or can it change things despite no one there?" Blake asked.

"The camera can affect anything. Its power is not restricted to only altering the futures of the people. It can change the fates of animals and objects."

"Is there a way to prevent the effects in the picture from happening?" Pyrrha asked.

"And is there a way to reverse them?" Nora asked.

"That would depend entirely on what is in the photo. Some are permanent because you can't reverse some things when they happen, like a crash or getting struck in the head by a baseball. But for others, you can reverse them, which is the same as preventing them. And that is by doing this." Roman said before showing the remains of the photo.

"By tearing up the photo?" Yatsuhashi asked, confused.

"Yes. By tearing up the photo, you can reverse whatever the camera did or stop it from happening in the first place. But you must be quick as some are irreversible, like dying."

"So now that the photo is torn up, when will Jaune return and where?" Velvet asked.

"I don't know. A person disappearing has only happened three times before today."

"So that's why you had your workers be on the lookout for Jaune." Coco said.

"Exactly. He could return at any time and any place. Jaune could be found in a few seconds next to Beacon or in a few hours in Mistral."

"Well, since we have time. Can you tell us the story behind the camera?" Weiss asked.

"Yeah. I want to know how this camera even came to be and who was the first one to own it or learn about its power." Coco added. Neo and Roman looked at each other for a moment before sighing.

"Fine." Roman sighed before grabbing the book, flipping through the pages, and stopping at the correct one. "Alright. Now pay attention, as I don't like repeating myself. But don't hesitate to ask any questions since this stuff can get highly confusing. We start off with Greg, who thinks something is very wrong with the camera he and his friends found. But his friends don't believe him and now have paid the price when they take a photo of themselves. Who is going to take the next fall for... the evil camera?"

Story

"There's nothing to do in Pitts Landing." Michael Warner said with his hands shoved into the pockets of his faded denim cutoffs.

"Yeah. Pitts Landing is the pits." Greg Banks agreed.

Doug Arthur and Shari Walker muttered their agreement. Pitts Landing is the Pits. That was the town slogan, according to Greg and his three friends. Actually, Pitts Landing wasn't much different from a lot of small towns with quiet streets of shady lawns and comfortable, old houses.

But here it was, a balmy fall afternoon, and the four friends were hanging around Greg's driveway, kicking at the gravel, wondering what to do for fun and excitement.

"Let's go to Grover's and see if the new comic books have arrived." Doug suggested.

"We don't have any money, Bird." Greg told him.

Everyone called Doug "Bird" because he looked a lot like a bird. A better nickname might have been "Stork." He had long, skinny legs and took long, storklike steps. Under his thick tuft of brown hair, which he seldom brushed, he had small, birdlike brown eyes and a long nose that curved like a beak. Doug didn't like being called Bird but was used to it.

"We can still look at the comics." Bird insisted.

"Until Grover starts yelling at you." Shari said before puffing out her cheeks and making a pretty good impression of the gruff store owner. "Are you paying or staying?".

"He thinks he's cool." Greg said, laughing at her imitation. "He's such a jerk."

"I think the new X - Force is coming in this week." Bird said.

"You should join the X - Force." Greg said, giving his pal a playful shove. "You could be Bird Man. You'd be great!"

"We should all join the X - Force." Michael said. "If we were superheroes, maybe we'd have something to do."

"No, we wouldn't." Shari quickly interjected. "There's no crime to fight in Pitts Landing."

"We could fight crabgrass." Bird suggested, causing the others to laugh. Bird was always the jokester of the group. The four of them had been friends for a long time. Greg and Shari lived next door to each other, and their parents were best friends. Bird and Michael lived on the next block.

"How about a baseball game?" Michael suggested. "We could go down to the playground."

"No way. You can't play with only four people." Shari said, pushing back a strand of her crimped, black hair that had fallen over her face. She was wearing an oversized yellow sweatshirt over bright green leggings.

"Maybe we'll find some other kids there." Michael said, picking up a handful of gravel from the drive and letting it sift through his chubby fingers. Michael had short red hair, blue eyes, and a face full of freckles. He wasn't exactly fat, but no one would ever call him skinny.

"Come on, let's play baseball. I need the practice. My Little League starts in a couple of days." Bird urged.

"Little League? In the fall?" Shari asked, confused.

"It's a new fall league. The first game is Tuesday after school," Bird explained.

"Hey. We'll come to watch you." Greg said.

"We'll come to watch you strike out." Shari added, reminding the others of her hobby of teasing Bird.

"What position are you playing?" Greg asked.

"Backstop." Michael cracked, only for no one to laugh as his jokes always fell flat.

"Probably the outfield." Bird shrugged before turning to Greg. "How come you're not playing, Greg?"

With his big shoulders and muscular arms and legs, Greg was the natural athlete of the group. He was blond and good-looking, with flashing gray-green eyes and a wide, friendly smile.

"My brother Terry was supposed to go sign me up, but he forgot." Greg said, making a disgusted face.

"Where is Terry ?" Shari asked. She had a tiny crush on Greg's older brother.

"He got a job Saturdays and after school. At the Dairy Freeze." Greg answered.

"Let's go to the Dairy Freeze!" Michael exclaimed enthusiastically.

"We don't have any money, remember?" Bird said glumly.

"Terry will give us free cones." Michael said, turning to Greg with a hopeful gaze.

"Yeah. Free cones. But no ice cream in them." Greg said. "You know what a straight-arrow my brother is."

"This is boring." Shari complained, watching a robin hop across the sidewalk. "It's boring standing around talking about how bored we are."

"We could sit down and talk about how bored we are." Bird suggested, twisting his mouth into the goofy half-smile he always wore when making a dumb joke.

"Let's take a walk or a jog or something." Shari insisted, making her way across the lawn, balancing her white high-tops on the curb's edge, waving her arms like a high wire performer.

The boys soon followed, imitating her in an impromptu game of Follow the Leader, with all of them balancing along the curb's edge. A curious cocker spaniel came bursting out of the neighbor's hedge, yapping excitedly. Shari stopped to pet him, causing the dog's stubby tail to furiously wag as he licked her hand a few times. But the dog soon lost interest and retreated into the hedge.

The four friends continued down the block, playfully trying to knock each other off the curb as they walked. They crossed the street and continued on past the school. A couple of guys were shooting baskets, and some little kids played kickball on the practice baseball diamond. But the friends paid them no attention as they knew none of them.

The road soon curved away from the school. They followed it past the familiar houses and stopped just beyond a small wooded area. They then looked up at a sloping lawn with grass that had been uncut for weeks, tall weeds poking out everywhere, and shrubs that were ragged and overgrown.

At the top of the lawn, nearly hidden in the shadows of enormous, old oak trees, sprawled a large, ramshackle house. Anyone that sees it immediately knows it was once magnificent. It was gray shingle, three stories tall, with a wraparound screened porch, a sloping red roof, and tall chimneys on either end. But the broken windows on the second floor, the cracked, weather-stained shingles, the bare spots on the roof, and the shutters hanging loosely beside the dust-smeared windows were evidence of the house's neglect.

Everyone in Pitts Landing knew it as the Coffman house. Coffman was the name painted on the mailbox that tilted on its broken pole over the front walk. But the house had been deserted for years ever since Greg and his friends could remember.

And people liked to tell weird stories about the house: ghost stories and wild tales about murders and ghastly things that happened there. Most likely, none of them were true.

"Hey. I know what we can do for excitement." Michael said, staring up at the house bathed in shadows.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Greg asked warily.

"Let's go into the Coffman house." Michael said, not giving his friends a chance to decide as he ran across the weed-choked lawn.

"Whoa. Are you crazy?" Greg shouted, hurrying to catch up to him.

"Let's go in." Michael said, his blue eyes catching the light of the late afternoon sun filtering down through the tall oak trees. "We wanted an adventure. Something a little exciting, right? Come on. Let's check it out."

Greg hesitated and stared up at the house. A cold chill ran down his back. But before he could reply, a dark form leaped from the shadows of the tall weeds and attacked him.

"Aah !" Greg screamed as he toppled backward onto the ground. But he stopped when he realized the others were laughing.

"It's that dumb cocker spaniel!" Shari cried. "He followed us!"

"Go home, dog. Go home!" Bird shooed the dog, trying to get it to go home.

The dog trotted to the curb, turned around, and stared back at them, its stubby tail wagging furiously. Feeling embarrassed that he'd become so frightened, Greg slowly pulled himself to his feet, expecting his friends to give him grief. But they were staring up at the Coffman house thoughtfully.

"Yeah, Michael's right." Bird said, slapping Michael hard on the back. So hard that Michael winced and turned to slug Bird. "Let's see what it's like in there."

"No way." Greg nervously said. "I mean, the place is kind of creepy, don't you think?"

"So?" Shari challenged him, joining Michael and Bird, who repeated her question.

"So... I don't know." Greg replied. He never liked being the sensible one of the group, as everyone made fun of him for it. Greg would have preferred to have been the wild and crazy one, yet he somehow always ended up as the sensible one. "I don't think we should go in there."

"Are you chicken?" Bird asked.

"Chicken!" Michael joined.

Bird began to cluck loudly, tucking his hands into his armpits and flapping his arms. He looked just like a chicken with his beady eyes and beaky nose.

Real World

"Wow. Talk about some friends." Blake muttered.

"Yeah. If they did with me, they wouldn't have any teeth." Yang added.

"Or be alive if they did it to me." Neo signed with a sadistic smile.

"Hold on." Weiss said, digging into her bag.

"What do you got, Wiess?" Coco asked.

"I forgot I even had this." Weiss said, pulling out a table and sliding it to Neo.

"A tablet?" Pyrrha asked, confused.

"One that was designed with one specific purpose."

"And what's that?" Yatsuhashi asked, curious.

"It's to help people who are mute or can't speak to communicate with others. This will let Neo say what she wants without having to sign it or needing Roman to translate."

"Okay. Now that's helpful." Roman said, impressed and silently thankful for whoever made it.

"Thanks." The tablet said after Neo typed the words.

"You're welcome." Weiss said.

"Anyway. Back to the story. Greg didn't want to laugh but couldn't help himself at seeing Bird's routine. Bird always did manage to make him laugh.

Story

The clucking and flapping seemed to end the discussion. They were standing at the foot of the broken concrete steps that led up to the screened porch.

"Look. The window next to the front door is broken." Shari said, pointing to the window. "We can just reach in and open the door."

"This is cool. Are we really doing this?" Michael enthusiastically asked.

"I mean, what about Spidey?" Greg asked, being the sensible one.

Spidey was a weird-looking man of fifty or sixty they'd all seen lurking about town. He dressed entirely in black and crept along on long, slender legs. He looked just like a black spider, hence the nickname Spidey. But most thought he was a homeless guy as no one knew anything about him. But a lot of kids had seen him hanging around the Coffman house.

"Maybe Spidey doesn't like visitors." Greg warned.

Unfortunately, his warning fell on deaf ears as Shari was already reaching in through the broken windowpane to unlock the front door. And after little effort, she turned the brass knob, and the heavy wooden door swung open. One by one, they stepped into the front entryway, with Greg reluctantly bringing up the rear. It was dark inside the house, with only narrow beams of sunlight trickling through the heavy trees in front, creating pale circles of light on the worn brown carpet at their feet. The floorboards squeaked as Greg and his friends made their way past the living room, which was bare except for a couple of overturned grocery store cartons against one wall.

"Spidey's furniture?" Greg wondered.

The living room carpet, as threadbare as the one in the entryway, had a dark oval stain in the center of it. Greg and Bird, stopping in the doorway, both noticed it simultaneously.

"Think it's blood? "Bird asked, his tiny eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Probably ketchup." Greg said, feeling a chill on the back of his neck. But Bird only laughed and slapped him hard on the back.

Shari and Michael were exploring the kitchen. They were staring at the dust-covered kitchen counter as Greg stepped up behind them. He immediately saw what had captured their attention. Two fat, gray mice were standing on the countertop, staring back at them.

"They're cute. They look just like cartoon mice." Shari said, her voice making the two rodents scamper along the counter, around the sink, and out of sight.

"They're gross." Michael said, making a disgusted face. "I think they were rats, not mice."

"Rats have long tails. Mice don't." Greg said.

"They were definitely rats." Bird muttered, pushing past them, into the hallway and disappearing toward the front of the house. While that happened, Shari reached up and pulled open a cabinet to find it empty.

"I guess Spidey never uses the kitchen." She said, dusting her hands.

"Well, I didn't think he was a gourmet chef." Greg joked as he followed her into the long, narrow dining room, as bare and dusty as the other rooms. A low chandelier still hung from the ceiling, so brown with caked dust that it was impossible to tell it was glass. "Looks like a haunted house."

"Boo." Shari said.

"There's not much to see in here. Unless you get a thrill from dustballs." Greg complained, following Shari back to the dark hallway. Suddenly, a loud crack made him jump. Shari laughed and squeezed his shoulder. "What was that ?"

"Old houses do things like that. They make noises for no reason at all."

"I think we should leave." Greg insisted, embarrassed again that he was so easily scared. "I mean, it's boring in here."

"It's kind of exciting being somewhere we're not supposed to be." Shari said, peeking into a dark, empty room that was probably a den or study room at one time.

"I guess." Greg replied uncertainly. But they soon bumped into Michael and noticed that Bird wasn't with him. "Where's Bird ?"

"I think he went down in the basement." Michael answered.

"Huh? The basement?"

"The stairs are there." Michael pointed to an open door at the right of the hallway. The three of them made their way to the top of the stairs and peered down into the darkness.

"Bird?" They asked.

From somewhere deep in the basement, his voice floated up to them in a horrified scream: "Help! It's got me! Somebody, please help! It's got me!"

At the sound of Bird's terrified cries, Greg pushed past Shari and Michael, who stood frozen in open-mouthed horror.

"I'm coming, Bird! What is it ?" Greg shouted as he flew down the stairs. His heart pounding, Greg stopped at the bottom of the stairs, every muscle tight with fear. His eyes searched frantically through the smoky light pouring in from the basement windows near the ceiling. "Bird?"

"Gotcha." Bird said as he sat comfortably, calmly, on an overturned metal trash can, his legs crossed, a broad smile on his birdlike face.

"What is it? What happened ?" Shari and Michael asked, scared for their friend, as they clamored down the stairs. But it took them only a few seconds to figure out what was happening.

"Another dumb joke ?" Michael asked, his voice still trembling with fear.

"Bird. You were goofing on us again ?" Shari asked, shaking her head.

"You guys are too easy." Bird scoffed, enjoying his moment with a peculiar half-grin.

"But Doug." Shari started. She only called him Doug when she was upset with him. "Haven't you ever heard of the boy who cried wolf? What if something bad happens, and you really need help, and we think you're just goofing?"

"What could happen? Look, it's brighter down here than upstairs." Bird smugly replied as he stood up and gestured around the basement. He was right. Sunlight from the backyard cascaded down through four long windows at ground level, near the basement's ceiling.

"I still think we should get out of here." Greg insisted, his eyes moving quickly around the large, cluttered room. Behind Bird's overturned trash can stood an improvised table made out of a sheet of plywood resting on four paint cans. A nearly flat mattress, dirty and stained, rested against the wall, a faded wool blanket folded at the foot.

"Spidey must live down here!" Michael exclaimed. Bird kicked his way through a pile of empty food TV boxes that had been tossed all over the floor dinners.

"Hey, a Hungry Man dinner!" Bird said. "Where does Spidey heat these up?"

"Maybe he eats them frozen. You know. Like Popsicles." Shari answered as she made her way toward a towering oak wardrobe and pulled open the doors. She then took out a ratty-looking fur coat, wrapped out her shoulders, and twirled in it. "Wow! This is excellent! Look! Excellent !"

From across the room, Greg could see that the wardrobe was stuffed with old clothing. Michael and Bird hurried to join Shari and began pulling out strange-looking pairs of bell-bottom pants, yellowed dress shirts with pleats down the front, tie-dyed neckties that were about a foot wide, and bright-colored scarves and bandannas.

"Hey, guys." Greg warned. "Don't you think maybe those belong to somebody?"

"Yeah. These are Spidey's dress-up clothes." Bird cracked as he turned around, wearing a fuzzy red boa wrapped around his neck and shoulders.

"Check out this baad hat." Shari said, turning around to show off the bright purple, wide-brimmed hat she was wearing.

"Neat." Michael said, examining a long blue cape. "This stuff must be at least twenty - five years old. It's awesome. How could someone just leave it here?"

"Maybe they're coming back for it." Greg said.

As his friends explored the wardrobe's contents, Greg wandered to the other end of the large basement. A furnace occupied the far wall, its ducts covered in thick cobwebs. Partially hidden by the furnace ducts, Greg could see stairs that probably led to an exit. Wooden shelves lined the adjoining wall, cluttered with old paint cans, rags, newspapers, and rusty tools.

'Whoever lived here must have been a real handyman.' Greg thought, examining a wooden worktable in front of the shelves.

A metal vise was clamped to the edge of the worktable. Greg turned the handle, expecting the jaws of the vise to open. But to his surprise, as he turned the vise handle, a door just above the worktable popped open. Greg pulled the door all the way open, revealing a hidden cabinet shelf.

Resting on the shelf was a camera.

Real World

"So Spidey was the one who created the camera?" Ruby asked.

"Actually, no. Well, in a sense, you could say he indirectly co-created this evil camera." Roman answered.

"Do you know who created it?" Ren asked.

"I." Romen began before sighing and rubbing his chin in aggravation and deep thought. "That's complicated. But to keep it simple, without giving some story details away, we don't know. No one knows who originally created the camera. All we know is that its original purpose and intent was far different than what it is now."

"How different?" Pyrrha asked, curious and worried.

"Vastly. Anyway. Back to the story." Roman answered. "For a long moment, Greg just stared at the camera. He didn't know why, but something told him the camera was hidden for a good reason and he shouldn't touch it. He should close the secret door and walk away."

Story

But Greg couldn't resist. He reached onto the hidden shelf and took the camera in his hands. It pulled out easily. Then, to his surprise, the door instantly snapped shut with a loud bang.

'Weird.' Greg thought, turning the camera in his hands. 'What a strange place to leave a camera. Why would someone put it here? If it were valuable enough to hide in a secret cabinet, why didn't they take it with them?'

Greg eagerly examined the camera. It was large and surprisingly heavy, with a long lens.

'Perhaps a telephoto lens.'

Greg was always very interested in cameras. He had an inexpensive automatic camera, which took okay snapshots. But Greg was saving his allowance in hopes of buying an excellent camera with a lot of lenses. He loved looking at camera magazines, studying the different models, and picking out the ones he wanted to buy.

Sometimes Greg daydreamed about traveling around the world, visiting amazing places, mountaintops, and hidden jungle rivers. He'd take photos of everything he saw and become a famous photographer. His camera at home was just too crummy. That's why all his pictures came out too dark or too light, and everyone in them had glowing red dots in their eyes.

Wondering if the camera was any good, Greg raised the viewfinder to his eye and sighted around the room. He came to a stop on Michael, who was wearing two bright yellow feather boas and a white Stetson hat and had climbed to the top of the steps to pose.

"Wait! Hold it!" Greg shouted, moving closer and raising the camera to his eye. "Let me take your picture, Michael."

"Where'd you find that ?" Bird asked, curious.

"Does that thing have film in it?" Michael asked.

"I don't know. Let's see." Greg answered.

Leaning against the railing, Michael struck what he considered a sophisticated pose. Greg pointed the camera up and focused carefully. It took a short while for his finger to locate the shutter button. "Okay, ready? Say cheese."

"Cheddar." Michael said, grinning down at Greg as he held his pose against the railing.

"Very funny. Michael's a riot." Bird said sarcastically.

Greg centered Michael in the viewfinder frame, then pressed the shutter button. The camera clicked and flashed before making an electronic whirring sound. A slot pulled open on the bottom, and a cardboard square slid out.

"Hey. It's one of those automatic-developing cameras." Greg exclaimed, pulling the square of cardboard out and examining it. "Look - the picture is starting to develop."

"Let me see." Michael shouted, leaning on the railing. But before he could start down the stairs, everyone heard a loud crunching sound. They all looked up to the source of the sound and saw the railing break away and Michael go sailing over the edge.

"Nooooo!" Michael screamed as he toppled to the floor, arms outstretched, the feather boas flying behind him like animal tails. He turned in the air, then hit the concrete hard on his back, his eyes frozen wide in astonishment and fright.

He bounced once. Then cried out again: "My ankle! Owwww! My ankle!" He grabbed at the injured ankle, then quickly let go with a loud gasp. It hurt too much to touch it. "Ohhh — my ankle!"

Still holding the camera and the photo, Greg rushed to Michael, followed by Shari and Bird.

"We'll go get help." Shari told Michael, who was still on his back, groaning in pain.

But then they heard the ceiling creak. Footsteps. Above them. Someone was in the house and was approaching the basement stairs. They were going to be caught. And as they grew louder, the four friends exchanged frightened glances.

"We've got to get out of here." Shari whispered as the ceiling creaked.

"You can't leave me here! "Michael said, scared, as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

"Quick, stand up." Bird instructed.

"I can't stand on this foot." Michael said, his face showing pain and panic as he struggled to his feet.

"We'll help you." Shari said before turning to Bird. "I'll take one arm. You take the other."

Bird nodded before moving to put Michael's arm around his shoulder.

"Okay, let's move!" Shari whispered, supporting Michael from the other side.

"But how do we get out?" Bird asked breathlessly. But his breathing became tense when the footsteps grew louder, with the ceiling creaking under their weight.

"We can't go up the stairs." Michael whispered, leaning on Shari and Bird.

"There's another stairway behind the furnace." Greg said, pointing to where he saw the staircase.

"It leads out?"Michael asked, wincing from his ankle pain.

"Probably." Greg answered as he led them to the hidden staircase.

"Just pray the door isn't padlocked or something."

"We're praying. We're praying!" Bird said.

"We're outta here!" Shari said, groaning under the weight of Michael's arm. Leaning heavily against Shari and Bird, Michael hobbled after Greg, and they made their way to the stairs behind the furnace. The stairs, they saw, led to wooden double doors up on ground level.

"I don't see a padlock." Greg warily said. "Please, doors. Be open!"

"Hey, who's down there ?" An angry man's voice shouted from behind them.

"It's. It's Spidey!" Michael stammered.

"Hurry! Come on!" Shari urged, giving Greg a frightened push. Putting the camera down on the top step, Greg reached up and grabbed the double doors' handles.

"Who's down there?" Spidey shouted, sounding closer and angrier.

"The doors could be locked from the outside." Greg whispered, hesitating.

"Just push them, man!" Bird pleaded. Greg took a deep breath and pushed with all his strength, yet, the doors didn't budge.

"We're trapped." Greg said.

"Now what?" Michael whined.

"Try again. Maybe they're just stuck." Bird urged as he slid out from under Michael's arm. "Here. I'll help you."

"Ready?" Greg asked, moving to the side to give Bird some room. Nodding, they braced themselves. "One, two, three - push!"

Both boys pushed against the heavy wooden doors with all their might, with the doors swinging open a second later.

"Okay! Now we're outta here!" Shari declared happily.

Picking up the camera, Greg led the others out into the backyard, where they saw it was as weed-chocked and overgrown as the front lawn. An enormous limb had fallen off an old oak tree, probably during a storm, and was lying half in the tree, half on the ground. Somehow, during this, Bird and Shari managed to drag Michael up the steps and onto the grass.

"Can you walk? Try it." Bird asked. Still leaning against his friends, Michael reluctantly pushed his foot down on the ground. He lifted it and then put some pressure on it again before repeating it a few times.

"Hey, it feels a little better." Michael said, surprised.

"Then let's go." Bird said.

Not wasting another second, they ran to the overgrown hedge along the side of the yard. Michael, on his own now, stepped gingerly on his bad ankle as he tried to keep up with his friends. Then, staying in the shadow of the hedge, they made their way around the house to the front.

"All right! We made it!" Bird happily cried as they reached 3440 street. Gasping for breath, Greg stopped at the curb and turned back toward the house.

"Look !" He said, pointing up to the living room window where a dark figure stood pressed against the glass.

"It's Spidey." Shari said.

"He's just staring at us." Michael said, confused.

"Weird. Let's go." Greg said. They didn't stop until they got to Michael's house, a sprawling redwood ranch-style house behind a shady front lawn. "How's the ankle?"

"It's loosened up a lot. It doesn't even hurt that much." Michael answered.

"Man, you could've been killed!" Bird said, wiping sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his T-shirt.

"Thanks for reminding me." Michael said, rolling his eyes.

"Lucky thing you've got all that extra padding." Bird teased.

"Shut up." Michael muttered.

"Well, you guys wanted adventure." Shari said, leaning back against the trunk of a tree.

"That guy Spidey is definitely weird." Bird said, shaking his head.

"You see the way he was staring at us?" Michael asked. "All dressed in black and everything? He looked like some kind of zombie or something."

"He saw us." Greg said softly, suddenly feeling a chill of dread. "He saw us very clearly. We'd better stay away from there."

"What for?" Michael demanded. "It isn't his house. He's just sleeping there. We could call the police on him."

"But if he's really crazy or something, there's no telling what he might do." Greg said, worried.

"Aw, he's not going to do anything." Shari said quietly. "Spidey doesn't want trouble. He just wants to be left alone."

"Yeah. He didn't want us messing with his stuff. That's why he yelled like that and came after us." Michael quickly agreed as he leaned over and rubbed his ankle. But he then straightened up and turned toward Greg.

"Hey, where's my picture?"

"Huh?" Greg asked, confused.

"You know. The picture you snapped. With the camera."

"Oh. Right." Greg said, realizing he still had the camera gripped tightly in his hand. Carefully setting it on the grass, Greg reached into his back pocket and pulled out the photo. "I put it in here when we started to run."

"Well? Did it come out?" Michael impatiently asked. The three of them huddled around Greg to view the snapshot.

"Whoa, hold on a minute!" Greg cried, staring hard at the small, square photo. "Something's wrong. What's going on here?"

Real World

"Hopefully, nothing too bad happens in that photo." Pyrrha said.

"Wait. Has the camera ever killed someone before?" Nora asked, inadvertently causing Velvet to become pale.

"From our limited records, yes. The camera has killed a few people. But in total, the camera could have killed thousands of people." Neo answered.

"C-can you revert a person's fate after the camera kills them?" Velvet asked.

"I'll answer that once we're further into the story." Roman answered. "The four friends gaped at what they saw in the photo. Rather than showing Michael on the stairs, it showed them, Michael, in midair after he fell through the broken railing."

Story

"That's impossible!" Shari cried.

"You snapped the picture before I fell!" Michael said, grabbing the photo from Greg's hand so he could study it close up. "I remember it."

"You remembered wrong. You were falling, man. What a great action shot." Bird said, moving to get another look at it over Michael's shoulder. He then picked up the camera. "This is a good camera you stole, Greg ."

"I didn't steal it." Greg started. "I didn't- I mean."

"I wasn't falling!" Michael insisted, tilting the picture in his hand, studying it from every angle. "I was posing, remember? I had a big, goofy smile on my face, and I was posing."

"I remember the goofy smile." Bird said, handing the camera back to Greg. "Do you have any other expression?"

"You're not funny, Bird." Michael muttered as he pocketed the picture.

"Weird." Greg said before glancing at his watch. "Hey. I've got to get going."

He said goodbye to the others and headed for home. The afternoon sun was lowering behind a cluster of palm trees, casting long, shifting shadows over the sidewalk. He had promised his mother he'd straighten up his room and help with the vacuuming before dinner. And now he was running late.

'What was that strange car in the drive?' Greg wondered as he jogged across the neighbor's lawn toward his house. It was a brand new navy-blue Taurus station wagon.It was then that Greg realized his father had brought a new car.

'Wow'!

Greg stopped to admire it. It still had the sticker glued to the door window. He pulled open the driver's door, leaned in, and smelled the vinyl upholstery. The new-car smell sent his senses alight. He inhaled deeply again. It smelled so good. So fresh and new. Greg closed the door hard, appreciating the solid clunk it made.

'What a great new car. I've got to take a picture of this. To remember what the car was like when it was totally new.' Greg excitedly thought as he raised his camera and took a few steps back.

He backed up until he had framed the entire profile of the station wagon in the viewfinder and then pressed the shutter button. As before, the camera clicked loudly, the flash flashed, and with an electronic hum, a square, undeveloped photo of gray and yellow slid out of the bottom. Carrying the camera and the snapshot, Greg ran into the house through the front door.

"I'm home! Down in a minute!" He shouted as he ran up the stairs to his room.

"Greg? Is that you? Your father is home." Greg's mother called from downstairs.

"I know. Be right down. Sorry, I'm late!" Greg shouted back. 'I'd better hide the camera, he decided. If Mom or Dad see it, they'll want to know whose it is and where I got it. And I won't be able to answer those questions.'

"Greg. Did you see the new car? Are you coming down?" His mother shouted, sounding impatient.

"I'm coming!" Greg said as he searched frantically for a good hiding place.

Under his bed? No. His mom might vacuum under there and discover it. Then Greg remembered the secret compartment in his headboard. He had found the compartment years ago when his parents had bought him a new bedroom set. Quickly, Greg shoved the camera inside the compartment before heading to his dresser to look himself over in the mirror. He gave his blond hair a quick brush, rubbed a black soot smudge off his cheek with one hand, then started for the door. But Greg stopped at the doorway as he remembered the snapshot of the car. Where had he put it? It took a few seconds to remember that he had tossed it onto his bed. Curious about how it came out, he turned back to retrieve it.

"Oh, no!" Greg said as he gazed at the snapshot. Bringing it up to his face, he examined it. The blue Taurus station wagon in the photo was a mess. It looked as if it had been in a terrible accident. The windshield was shattered. Metal was twisted and bent. The door on the driver's side was caved in. The car appeared totaled! 'What's going on here? This isn't right. How can this be?' "This is impossible!'

"Greg, where are you ?" Greg's mother shouted. "We're all hungry, and you're keeping us waiting."

"Sorry." He shouted, unable to take his eyes off the snapshot. "Coming."

He shoved the photo into his top dresser drawer and made his way downstairs. The image of the totaled car was still in his mind. Just to make sure, Greg crossed the living room, peered out the front window to the driveway, and sighed in relief at what he saw. There stood the station wagon, sparkling in the glow of the setting sun. Shiny and perfect. Sighing, Greg turned and entered the dining room, where his brother and his parents were already seated.

"The new wagon is awesome, Dad." Greg said, trying to shake the snapshot's image from his thoughts. But he kept seeing the twisted metal, the caved-in driver's door, the shattered windshield.

"After dinner." Greg's dad happily announced. "I'm taking you all for a drive in the new car!"

"Mmmm. This is great chicken, Mom." Greg's brother Terry said, chewing as he talked.

"Thanks for the compliment." Mrs. Banks said dryly. "But it's veal, not chicken."

"Well, it's still such excellent veal; it tastes as good as chicken." Terry said, still chewing with his face bright red. All the while, Greg and his dad were laughing.

"I don't know why I bother to cook." Mrs. Banks sighed.

"How are things at the Dairy Freeze ?" Mr. Banks said, changing the subject.

"We ran out of vanilla this afternoon." Terry answered, forking a small potato and shoving it whole into his mouth. He chewed it briefly, then gulped it down. "People were annoyed about that."

"I don't think I can go for the ride." Greg said, staring down at his dinner, which he'd hardly touched.

"Why not ?" His father asked, curious.

"Well..." Greg searched his mind for a good reason. He needed to make one up, but his mind was drawing a blank.

Greg couldn't tell them the truth. He couldn't tell them he had taken a snapshot of Michael that showed him falling. And a split second later, Michael had fallen over the railing. And now he had taken a picture of the new car, with the photo showing it wrecked. Greg didn't know what it meant, but he suddenly felt a powerful feeling of dread, fear, and...he didn't know what. It was a kind of troubled feeling that he had never experienced before. But he couldn't tell them any of that. It was too weird. Too crazy.

"I... made plans to go over to Michael's." Greg lied, staring down at his plate.

"Well, call him and tell him you'll see him tomorrow." Mr. Banks said, slicing his veal. "That's no problem."

"Well, I'm kind of not feeling very well, either." Greg said.

"What's wrong?" Mrs. Banks asked, concerned. "Do you have a temperature? I thought you looked a little flushed when you came in."

"No." Greg replied uncomfortably. "No temperature. I just feel kind of tired, not very hungry."

"Can I have your chicken, I mean, veal?"Terry eagerly asked. He reached his fork across the table and nabbed the cutlet off Greg's plate.

"Well, a nice ride might make you feel better." Greg's dad said, eyeing Greg suspiciously. "You know, some fresh air. You can stretch out in the back if you want."

"But, dad." Greg stopped as he realized he had used up all the excuses he had. They would never believe him if he said he needed to stay home and do homework on a Saturday night!

"You're coming with us, and that's final." Mr. Banks said, still studying Greg closely. "You've been dying for this new wagon to arrive. I really don't understand your problem."

'Neither do I.' Greg admitted to himself, trying to shake away the feeling of dread that had taken away his appetite. 'I don't understand it at all. Why am I so afraid of riding in the new car? Just because there's something wrong with that stupid camera? I'm being silly.' "Okay, dad. I'll come."

"Are there any more potatoes?" Terry asked.

Real World

"Were there ever any photos that weren't harmful?" Blake asked.

"Hmm. Let me think." Roman said, racking his head. But after a moment, he couldn't really think of any examples. "I can't think of any off the top of my head."

"And typically, all photos are harmful in one way or another. And they don't necessarily have to be physical or long-lasting." Neo added.

"Honestly, the best example I can think of was when a researcher took a photo of a bird in its nest. The picture showed it destroyed with happening a second later when a baseball slammed into it. The bird was traumatized but not physically harmed. But it wouldn't go near trees again." Roman added. "But back to the story. After dinner, everyone cleaned up the table before getting into the car."

Story

"It's so easy to drive." Mr. Banks said, accelerating onto the entry ramp to the freeway. "It handles like a small car, not like a station wagon."

"Plenty of room back here, Dad." Terry said, scooting low in the back seat beside Greg, raising his knees to the back of the front seat.

"Hey, look. There's a drink holder that pulls out from the dash! "Greg's mother exclaimed. "That's neat."

"Awesome, Mom." Terry sarcastically said.

"Well, we never had a drink holder before," Mrs. Banks said before turning back to face her children. "Are your seat belts buckled? Do they work properly?"

"Yeah. They're okay." Terry answered.

"They checked them at the showroom before I took the car." Mr. Banks said, signaling to move into the left lane.

A truck roared by, spitting a cloud of exhaust behind it as Greg stared out the front window. His door window was still covered by the sticker. Mr. Banks pulled off the freeway onto a nearly empty four-lane highway that curved toward the west. The setting sun was a red ball low on the horizon in a charcoal-gray sky.

"Put the pedal to the metal, Dad. Let's see what this car can do." Terry urged, sitting up and leaning forward. Mr. Banks nodded before pressing his foot on the accelerator.

"The cruising speed seems to be about sixty." He said.

"Slow down." Mrs. Banks scolded. "You know the speed limit is fifty-five."

"I'm just testing it. You know. Making sure the transmission doesn't slip or anything." Greg's dad defended himself. Greg stared at the glowing speedometer and saw they were doing seventy now.

"Slow down. I mean it," Mrs. Banks warned. "You're acting like a crazy teenager."

"That's me!" Mr. Banks laughed, ignoring his wife's pleas. And then, imitating Terry's voice, he said. "This is awesome !"

They roared past a couple of small cars in the right lane. Headlights of vehicles moving towards them were a bright white blur in the darkening night.

"Hey, Greg. You've been awfully quiet." His mother said, sounding worried. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah. I'm okay." Greg answered, wishing his father would slow down as he was doing seventy-five now.

"What do you think, Greg?" Mr. Banks asked, steering with his left hand as his right hand searched the dashboard. "Where's the light switch? I should turn on my headlights."

"The car's great." Greg answered, trying to sound enthusiastic. But he couldn't shake away the fear the photo caused him.

"Where's that stupid light switch? It's got to be here somewhere." Mr. Banks said, sounding annoyed. As he glanced down at the unfamiliar dashboard, the station wagon unexpectedly swerved to the left.

"Dad! Look out for that truck!" Greg screamed as the horns blared. A powerful blast of air swept over the station wagon like a giant ocean wave pushing it to the side. Mr. Banks swerved the station wagon to the right as the truck rumbled past them.

"Sorry." Greg's dad said, eyes straight ahead, slowing the car to sixty, fifty - five, fifty . . .

"I told you to slow down." Mrs. Banks scolded, shaking her head. "We could've been killed!"

"I was trying to find the lights." He said as he clicked on the headlights. "Oh. Here they are. On the steering wheel."

"You boys okay?" Mrs. Banks asked, turning to check on them.

"Yeah. Fine." Terry said, sounding a little shaken as the car nearly struck his side of the car.

"I'm okay." Greg said. "Can we go back now?"

"Don't you want to keep going? "Mr. Banks asked, unable to hide his disappointment. "I thought we'd keep going to Santa Clara. Stop and get some ice cream or something."

"Greg's right." Mrs. Banks said softly to her husband. "Enough for tonight, dear. Let's turn around."

"The truck didn't come that close." Mr. Banks argued. But he obediently turned off the highway, and they headed for home.

Real World

"Let that be a lesson for you, Ruby. When Dad or I start teaching you how to drive, always pay attention to the road." Yang said.

"Okay, Yang." Ruby said, rolling her eyes, causing Roman and Neo to snicker.

"The trip back to the house was silent after the near-death experience. Once safe and sound in his room, Greg took the photograph out of his dresser and examined it. There was the new station wagon, the driver's side caved in, and the windshield shattered." Roman said.

Story

"Weird. Definitely weird. I'll try it one more time." Greg said as he placed the photo in the secret compartment again before taking out the camera. Walking up to his dresser, Greg lifted the camera and aimed it at the camera above it. 'I'll take a picture of myself in the mirror.'

But he then realized that it wouldn't work. The flash will reflect back at him and spoil the photo. Gripping the camera in one hand, Greg walked across the hall to Terry's room. His brother was at his desk, typing away on his computer keyboard, his face bathed in the blue light of the monitor screen.

"Terry, can I take your picture?" Greg meekly asked, holding up the camera.

"Hey. Where'd you get the camera?" Terry asked after typing some more and looking up from the screen.

"Uh ... Shari loaned it to me." Greg lied, thinking quickly. While Greg didn't like to lie, he didn't feel like explaining to Terry how he and his friends snuck into the Coffman house and made off with the camera. "So, can I take your picture?"

"I'll probably break your camera." Terry joked.

"I think it's already broken." Greg said. "That's why I want to test it on you."

"Go ahead." Terry said, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes. Greg snapped the shutter with an undeveloped photo sliding out of the slot in front.

"Thanks. See you." Greg said as he headed to the door.

"Hey. Don't I get to see it?" Terry asked, confused.

"If it comes out." Greg quickly said as he hurried across the hall to his room.

Sitting on his bed, Greg held the photo in his lap, staring at it intensely as it developed. The yellows filled in first, followed by reds and then the shades of blue.

"Whoa." Greg muttered as his brother's face came into view. "There's something definitely wrong here."

In the photo, Terry's eyes weren't crossed, and his tongue wasn't sticking out. His expression was grim, frightened. He looked distraught as the background came into view, which revealed another surprise. Terry wasn't in his room. He was outdoors. There were trees in the background, along with a house. Greg stared at the house. It looked so familiar. Was that the house across the street from the playground? He took one more look at Terry's frightened expression before tucking the photo and camera into the secret headboard compartment and closing it.

'The camera must be broken.' Greg decided, getting changed for bed.

It was the best explanation Greg could come up with as he lay in bed, staring up at the shifting shadows on the ceiling. After a few moments, he decided not to think about it anymore. A broken camera wasn't worth worrying about and staying up all night.

Tuesday Afternoon

It was Tuesday, and school had just finished. Once the bell rang, Greg hurried to meet Shari at the playground to watch Bird's Little League game. It was a warm fall afternoon, the sun high in a cloudless sky. The outfield grass had been freshly mowed and filled the air with its sharp, sweet smell.

Greg crossed the grass and squinted into the bright sunlight, searching for Shari. Both teams were warming up on the sides of the diamond, yelling and laughing, the sound of balls popping into gloves competing with their loud voices. A few parents and several kids had come to watch. Some were standing around, some sitting in the low bleachers along the first baseline. Greg spotted Shari behind the backstop and waved to her.

"Did you bring the camera ?" Shari eagerly asked, running over to greet him. Nodding, Greg held it up.

"Excellent." Shari explained, reaching for it.

"I think it's broken." Greg said, holding onto the camera while taking a step back. "The photos just don't come out right. It's hard to explain."

"Maybe it's not the photos. Maybe it's the photographer." Shari teased.

"Maybe I'll take a photo of you getting a knuckle sandwich." Greg threatened. He raised the camera to his eye and pointed it at her.

"Snap that, and I'll take a picture of you to eat ing the camera." Shari playfully threatened as she reached up and quickly pulled the camera from his hand.

"What do you want it for, anyway?" Greg asked, making a halfhearted attempt to grab it back.

"I want to take Bird's picture when he comes to bat. He looks just like an ostrich at the plate." Shari answered as she held it away from Greg.

"I heard that." Bird said, appearing next to them, pretending to be insulted. He looked ridiculous in his starched white uniform. The shirt was too big, and the pants were too short. The cap was the only thing that fit. It was blue, with a silver dolphin over the bill and the words: PITTS LANDING DOLPHINS.

"What kind of name is 'Dolphins' for a baseball team?" Greg asked, grabbing the bill and turning the cap backward on Bird's head.

"All the other caps were taken." Bird answered. "We had a choice between the Zephyrs and the Dolphins. None of us knew what Zephyrs were, so we picked Dolphins."

"Maybe you guys should play in your street clothes." Shari said as she eyed him up and down.

"Thanks for the encouragement." Bird said before spotting the camera and taking it from Shari. "Hey, you brought the camera. Does it have film?"

"Yeah. I think so. Let me see." Greg answered as he reached for the camera. But Bird swung it out of his grasp.

"Hey, are you going to share this thing, Greg?" Bird asked.

"Huh? What do you mean? "Greg asked as he reached for the camera again, and Bird swung it away from him.

"I mean, we all risked our lives down in that basement getting it, right?" Bird said. "We should all share it."

"Well." Greg hadn't thought about it. "I guess you're right, Bird. But I'm the one who found it. So."

"I told Greg to bring it so we could take your picture when you're up." Shari said as she grabbed the camera out of Bird's hand.

"As an example of good form?" Bird smugly asked.

"As a bad example." Shari said.

"You guys are just jealous." Bird replied, frowning as he turned the cap back around to face the front. "Because I'm a natural athlete, and you can't cross the street without falling on your face."

"Hey, Bird - get back here !" One of the coaches called from the playing field.

"I've got to go." Bird said, giving them a quick wave and starting to trot back to his teammates.

"No. Wait. Let me take a fast picture now." Greg said, causing Bird to stop, turn around, and strike a pose.

"No. I'll take it." Shari insisted as she raised the camera to her eye and pointed it at Bird. But as she raised it, Greg grabbed it.

"Let me take it!" He said. But the camera went off, followed by a click and a flash. An undeveloped photo slid out.

"Hey, why'd you do that?" Shari angrily asked.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to do that." Greg said as Shari pulled the photo out and held it in her hand. Greg and Bird stood next to her so they could watch it develop.

"What the heck is that?" Bird asked, staring hard at the small square as the colors brightened and took shape.

"Oh, wow!" Greg said, surprised. The photo showed Bird sprawled unconscious on his back on the ground, his mouth twisted open, his neck bent at a frightening angle, and his eyes shut tight.

"Hey. What's with this stupid camera? "Bird asked, grabbing the snapshot out of Shari's hand. He tilted it from side to side, squinting at it. "It's out of focus or something."

"Weird." Greg said, shaking his head.

"Hey, Bird. Get over here !" The Dolphins' coach called.

"Coming!" Bird shouted as he handed the picture back to Shari before jogging over to his teammates. Soon, the whistles blew, and the two teams stopped their practice and trotted to the benches along the third baseline.

"How did this happen?" Shari asked Greg, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand and holding the photo close to her face with the other. "It really looks like Bird is lying on the ground, knocked out or something. But he was standing right in front of us."

"I don't get it. I really don't. The camera keeps doing that." Greg answered as he followed Shari to a shady spot beside the bleachers with the camera swinging at his side.

"Look how his neck is bent." Shari continued. "It's so awful."

"There's something definitely wrong with the camera." Greg said as he began telling Shari about the new station wagon and the photo he had taken of it. But she interrupted him before he could get the words out. And the picture of Michael that showed him falling down the stairs before he even fell.

"It's just so strange." Shari said.

"I know." Greg agreed.

"Let me see that thing." Shari said, pulling the camera from his hand. "Is there any film left?"

"I can't tell. I couldn't find a film counter or anything." Greg admitted as Shari examined the camera closely, rolling it over in her hands.

"It doesn't say anywhere. How can you tell if it's loaded or not?" Shari asked, earning a shrug from Greg.

The baseball game soon got underway. The Dolphins were the visiting team. The other team, the Cardinals, jogged out to take their positions on the field. A kid in the bleachers dropped his soda can, which hit the ground and spilled, with the kid crying a second later. An old station wagon filled with teenagers cruised by, its radio blaring, its horn honking.

"Where do you put the film in?" Shari asked impatiently.

"Here, I think. Doesn't the back come off?" Greg asked, stepping closer to help Shari examine the camera.

"No, I don't think so. Most of these automatic-developing cameras load in the front." Shari answered as she fiddled with it. She then pulled at the back, but it wouldn't budge. Shari then tried the bottom but received the same result. And the same thing happened when she tried pulling off the lens.

"There's no slot or opening in the front." Greg said, taking the camera from Shari.

"Well, what kind of camera is it, anyway?" Shari demanded.

"Uh...let's see." Greg said as he studied the front, examined the top of the lends, and the back of the camera. He stared up at her with a surprised look on his face. "There's no brand name. Nothing."

"How can a camera not have a name? "Shari shouted, annoyed. She snatched the camera away from him and examined it closely, squinting her eyes against the bright afternoon sunshine. Finally, she handed the camera back to him, defeated. "You're right, Greg. No name. No words of any kind. Nothing. What a stupid camera."

"Whoa. Hold on. It's not my camera, remember? I didn't buy it. I took it from the Coffman house." Greg reminded her.

"Well, let's at least figure out how to open it up and look inside." Shari said.

While they were discussing this, the first Dolphin batter popped up to the second baseman. The second batter struck out on three straight swings. The dozen or so spectators shouted encouragement to their team.

The little kid who had dropped his soda continued to cry. Three kids rode by on bikes, waving to friends on the teams but not stopping to watch.

"I've tried and tried, but I can't figure out how to open it." Greg said.

"Give it to me. There has to be a button or something. There has to be some way of opening it. This is ridiculous." Shari said as she grabbed the camera away from him and examined it. But when she couldn't find a button or lever of any kind, she tried pulling the back off again. She then moved to the lens, but it wouldn't turn. "I'm not giving up. I'm not. This camera has to open. It has to!"

"Give up. You're going to wreck it." Greg warned, reaching for it.

"Wreck it? How could I wreck it?" Shari demanded. "It has no moving parts. Nothing!"

Real World

"Can we destroy the camera?" Weiss asked.

"No. The camera is indestructible. No matter what you say, we have tried." Roman answered.

"Some of Jaune's family and friends pulled a few favors with some Atlas generals. Let's just say even a Colossus can't destroy it." Neo added.

"Damn." The others said, shocked.

"Alright. Greg began growing frustrated as Shari examined the camera."

Story

"This is impossible." Greg said.

"Okay. I give up. Check it out yourself, Greg." Shari said, handing him the camera.

Grabbing the camera, Greg raised it to his face and then stopped. He then uttered a low cry of surprise as his mouth dropped open while his eyes gaped straight ahead. Startled, Shari turned to follow his shocked gaze.

"Oh no!" She said.

There on the ground, a few yards outside the first base line lay Bird. He was sprawled on his back, his neck bent at an odd and unnatural angle, his eyes shut tight.

"Bird!"Shari cried. Greg's breath caught in his throat. He felt as if he were choking.

"Oh!" He finally managed to cry out in a shrill, raspy voice as Bird didn't move. Running as fast as they could, Shari and Greg raced toward their friend.

"Bird?" Shari asked as she knelt down beside him. "Bird?"

"Gotcha." Bird said as he opened one eye. A weird half-smile formed on his face, and he exploded in high-pitched laughter.

Real World

"Okay. That is just a dick move. If I were there, he would actually be knocked out." Yang said, with the others agreeing.

Story

It took Shari and Greg a while to react. They both stood open-mouthed, gaping at their laughing friend. Then, his heart beginning to slow to normal, Greg reached down, grabbed Bird with both hands, and pulled him roughly to his feet.

"I'll hold him while you hit him." Greg said, holding Bird from behind.

"Hey, wait." Bird protested, struggling to squirm out of Greg's grasp.

"Good plan." Shari said, grinning.

"Ow! Hey, let go! Come on! Let go!" Bird protested, trying unsuccessfully to wrestle free. "Come on! What's your problem? It was a joke, guys."

"Very funny." Shari said, giving Bird a playful punch on the shoulder. "You're a riot, Bird."

"I just wanted to show you how bogus it is to get all worked up about that dumb camera." Bird said as he finally freed himself with a hard tug and danced away from Shari and Greg.

"But, Bird." Greg started.

"It's just broken, that's all." Bird said, brushing blades of recently cut grass off his uniform pants. "You think because it showed Michael falling down those stairs, there's something strange with it. But that's dumb. Real dumb."

"I know that." Greg replied sharply. "But how do you explain it?"

"I told you, man. It's wrecked. Broken. That's it." Bird said, acting as if he cracked a big case.

"Bird! Get over here!" A voice shouted with Bird's fielder's glove flying at his head. But Bird caught it, waved with a grin to Shari and Greg, and jogged to the outfield with his teammates.

Carrying the camera tightly in one hand, Greg led the way to the bleachers. He and Shari sat down on the end of the bottom bench. Some of the spectators had lost interest in the game already and had left. A few kids had taken a baseball off the field and were having their own game of catch behind the bleachers. Across the playground, four or five kids were getting a game of kickball started.

"Bird is such a dork." Greg said, his eyes on the game.

"He scared me to death." Shari exclaimed. "I really thought he was hurt."

"What a clown." Greg muttered.

They watched the game in silence for a while, but it wasn't terribly interesting. The Dolphins were losing 12-3 going into the third inning. None of the players were very good. Greg laughed as a Cardinal batter, a kid from their class named Joe Garden, slugged a ball that sailed out to the field and right over Bird's head.

"That's the third ball that flew over his head! "Greg laughed.

"Guess he lost it in the sun!" Shari said, joining in the laughter.

They both watched Bird's long legs storking after the ball. By the time he managed to catch up with it and heave it towards the diamond, Joe Garden had already rounded the bases and scored. There were loud boos from the bleachers. The next Cardinal batter stepped to the plate as a few more kids climbed down from the bleachers.

"It's so hot here in the sun." Shari said, shielding her eyes with one hand. "And I've got lots of homework. Want to leave?"

"I just want to see the next inning." Greg said, watching the batter swing and miss. "Bird is coming up next inning. I want to stay and boo him."

"What are friends for?" Shari asked sarcastically. It took a long while for the Dolphins to get the third out. The Cardinals batted around their entire order.

Greg's T-shirt was drenched with sweat by the time Bird came to the plate at the top of the fourth. Despite the loud booing from Shari and Greg, Bird managed to punch the ball past the shortstop for a single.

"Lucky hit !" Greg yelled, cupping his hands into a megaphone.

Bird pretended not to hear him. He tossed away his batter's helmet, adjusted his cap, and took a short lead off first base. The next batter swung at the first pitch and fouled it off.

"Let's go." Shari urged, pulling Greg's arm. "It's too hot. I'm dying of thirst."

"Let's just see if Bird." Greg began but didn't finish his sentence. The batter hit the next ball hard. It made a loud thunk as it left the bat.

A dozen people, players, and spectators cried out as the ball flew across the diamond, a sharp line drive, and slammed into the side of Bird's head with another thunk.

Greg watched in horror as the ball bounced off Bird and dribbled away onto the infield grass. Bird's eyes went wide with disbelief and confusion.

He stood frozen in place on the base path for a long moment. Then both of his hands shot up above his head, and he uttered a shrill cry, long and loud, like the high-pitched whinny of a horse. His eyes rolled up in his head. He sank to his knees and uttered another cry, softer this time. Then he collapsed, sprawling onto his back, his neck at an unnatural angle, his eyes closed. He didn't move.

Real World

"Karma." Everyone, including Neo, minus Roman, said simultaneously. And while Roman didn't say anything, he did smirk.

"After Bird fell to the ground, everyone rushed over to his unconscious body. Shari lept off the bench and continued shouting, "Bird! Bird!" as she ran toward the circle of concerned onlookers." Roman said.

Story

Greg started to follow but stopped when he saw a familiar figure crossing the street at a full sprint, waving to him.

"Terry!" Greg shouted, surprised. Why was his brother coming to the playground? Why wasn't he at his afterschool job at the Dairy Freeze? "Terry? What's happening?"

"I... ran... all... the... way." Terry said, gasping for breath as sweat poured down his bright red forehead.

"Terry, what's wrong?" Greg asked as a sick feeling crept up in his stomach.

As Terry approached, his face held the same frightened expression as in the photograph Greg had snapped of him. He wore the same frightened expression on his face with the same house behind him across the street. The snapshot had come true. Just as the snapshot of Bird lying on the ground had come true. Greg's throat suddenly felt as dry as cotton. He realized that his knees were trembling.

"Terry, what is it?"

"It's Dad." Terry answered, putting a heavy hand on Greg's shoulder.

"Huh? Dad?"

"You've got to come home, Greg. Dad's been in a bad accident."

"An accident?" Greg asked as he felt his head spin. Terry's words weren't making any sense to him.

"In the new car." Terry explained, again placing a heavy hand on Greg's trembling shoulder. "The new car is totaled. Completely totaled."

"Oh." Greg gasped, feeling weak.

"Come on. Hurry." Terry said as he squeezed Greg's shoulder. Greg began running after his brother, holding the camera tightly in one hand. Reaching the street, he turned back to the playground to see what was happening with Bird. A large crowd was still huddled around Bird, blocking him from sight.

'But what was that dark shadow behind the bleachers?' Greg wondered.

Someone was back there, someone all in black. Someone was hiding.

"Come on!" Terry urged. Greg stared hard at the bleachers. The dark figure pulled back out of sight. "Come on, Greg!"

"I'm coming!" Greg shouted as he followed his brother toward home.

One Hour Later

The hospital walls were pale green. The uniforms worn by the nurses scurrying through the brightly lit corridors were white. The floor tiles beneath Greg's feet as he hurried with his brother toward their father's room were dark brown with orange specks.

Colors.

All Greg could see were blurs of colors and indistinct shapes. His sneakers thudded noisily against the hard tile floor. He could barely hear them over the pounding of his heart. Totaled. The car had been totaled, just like in the snapshot.

Greg and Terry turned a corner. The walls in this corridor were pale yellow. Terry's cheeks were red. Two doctors passed by wearing lime green surgical gowns.

Greg blinked and tried to see clearly. But it was all passing by too fast, all too unreal. Even the sharp hospital smell, that unique aroma of rubbing alcohol, stale food, and disinfectant, couldn't make it real for him. Then the two brothers entered their father's room, and everything became real.

The colors faded. The images became sharp and clear. Their mother jumped up from the folding chair beside the bed.

"Hi, boys." Their mother said, clenching a wadded-up tissue in her hand. It was obvious that she had been crying. She forced a tight smile on her face, but her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks pale and puffy. Stopping just inside the doorway of the small room, Greg returned his mother's greeting in a soft, choked voice. Then his eyes, focusing clearly now, turned to his father.

Mr. Banks had a mummy-like bandage covering his hair. One arm was in a cast. The other lay at his side and had a tube attached just below the wrist, dripping a dark liquid into the arm. The bedsheet was pulled up to his chest.

"Hey. How's it going, guys?" Their father asked. His voice sounded fogged in as if coming from far away.

"Dad." Terry started.

"He's going to be okay." Mrs. Banks interrupted, seeing the frightened looks on her sons' faces.

"I feel great." Mr. Banks said groggily.

"You don't look so great." Greg blurted out, stepping up cautiously to the bed.

"I'm okay. Really. A few broken bones. That's it." Their father insisted before wincing in pain. "I guess I'm lucky."

"You're very lucky." Mrs. Banks agreed quickly said.

'What's the lucky part?' Greg wondered, unable to take his eyes off the tube stuck into his father's arm.

Again, Greg thought of the snapshot of the car. It was up in his room at home, tucked into the secret compartment in his headboard. The snapshot shows the car totaled and the driver's side caved in. Should he tell them about it? He couldn't decide. Would they believe him if he did tell them?

"What'd you break, Dad?" Terry asked, sitting on the radiator in front of the windowsill, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

"Your father broke his arm and a few ribs." Mrs. Banks answered. "And he had a slight concussion. The doctors are watching him for internal injuries. But so far, so good."

"I was lucky." Mr. Banks repeated, smiling at Greg.

"Dad, I have to tell you about this photo I took." Greg said suddenly, speaking rapidly, his voice trembling with nervousness. "I took a picture of the new car, and-"

"The car is completely wrecked." Mrs. Banks interrupted. Sitting on the edge of the folding chair, she rubbed her fingers, working her wedding ring round and around, something she always did when she was nervous. "I'm glad you boys didn't see it. It's a miracle he wasn't hurt any worse."

"This photo-" Greg started again.

"Later." His mother said brusquely, giving him a meaningful stare. "Okay?"

'This is important.' Greg thought, feeling his face grow hot. Then he decided they probably wouldn't believe him, anyway. Who would believe such a crazy story?

"Will we be able to get another new car?" Terry asked.

"I have to call the insurance company." Mr. Banks answered, nodding.

"I'll call them when I get home. You don't exactly have a hand free." Mrs. Banks said, causing everyone to laugh nervously.

"I feel kind of sleepy." Mr. Banks said, his eyes half closed, his voice muffled.

"It's the painkillers the doctors gave you. Get some sleep. I'll come back in a few hours." Mrs. Banks said as she patted his hand. She stood up, still fiddling with her wedding band, and motioned with her head toward the door.

"Bye, dad." Greg and Terry said in unison. Their father muttered a reply as they followed their mother out the door.

"What happened?" Terry asked as they made their way past a nurses ' station, then down the long, pale yellow corridor. "I mean, the accident."

"Some guy ran right through a red light. He plowed right into your father's side of the car. He said his brakes weren't working. I don't know. I just don't know what to say. Thank goodness he's going to be okay." Mrs. Banks answered, her red-rimmed eyes straight ahead. She shook her head, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. They turned into the green corridor, walking side by side. Several people were waiting patiently for the elevator at the far end of the hall.

Once again, Greg found himself thinking of the snapshots he had taken with the weird camera. First Michael. Then Terry. Then Bird. Then his father. All four photos showed something terrible. Something terrible that hadn't happened yet. And then all four photos had come true. Greg felt a chill as the elevator doors opened, and the small crowd of people moved forward to squeeze inside. What was the truth about the camera? Does the camera show the future? Or does it actually cause bad things to happen?

Real World

"How long does it take for the effects from the camera to take place?" Ren asked.

"What?" Roman asked, surprised.

"How long can the camera delay the effects? With Jaune, it happened instantly. But in the story, the car didn't happen until a few days later." Yatsuhashi said.

"Oh. I get it. There is no limit. I remember one time the effects of the camera didn't happen until a year later." Roman answered.

"Is it possible to delay the effects?" Pyrrha asked. "Let's say it is a car accident, but you never leave your house."

"Doesn't matter. You can wait for centuries; it will find a way to make it happen." Neo answered. "There is no stopping it outside of tearing up the photo."

"Yeah. I know Bird's okay. I saw him yesterday, remember? He was lucky. Real lucky. He didn't have a concussion or anything." Greg said into the phone receiver. On the other end of the line - in the house next door - Shari agreed, then repeated her request. "No, Shari. I really don't want to."

"Bring it." Shari demanded. "It's my birthday."

"I don't want to bring the camera. It's not a good idea. Really." It was the following Saturday afternoon. Greg had been nearly out the door, on his way next door to Shari's birthday party, when the phone rang.

"Hi, Greg. Why aren't you on your way to my party?" Shari had asked when he'd run to pick up the receiver.

"Because I'm on the phone with you." Greg had replied dryly.

"Well, bring the camera, okay?" Greg hadn't looked at the camera or removed it from its hiding place since his father's accident.

"I don't want to bring it." Greg insisted, despite Shari's high-pitched demands. "Don't you understand, Shari? I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Oh, Greg." She said, talking to him as if he were a three-year-old. "You don't really believe that, do you? You don't really believe that a camera can hurt people."

"I don't know what I believe." Greg said after a moment. "I don't know what I believe. I only know that first, Michael, then Bird. And I had a dream, Shari. Last night."

"Huh? What kind of dream?" Shari asked impatiently.

"It was about the camera. I was taking everyone's picture. My whole family, Mom, Dad, and Terry, were barbecuing in the backyard. I held up the camera. I kept saying, 'Say Cheese, Say Cheese,' over and over. And when I looked through the viewfinder, they were smiling back, but ... they were skeletons. All of them. Their skin was gone, and - and... at me."

Greg's voice trailed off.

"What a dumb dream." Shari said, laughing.

"But that's why I don't want to bring the camera." Greg insisted. "I think -"

"Bring it, Greg." Shari interrupted. "It's not your camera, you know. All four of us were in the Coffman house. It belongs to all four of us. Bring. it."

"But why, Shari?" Greg demanded.

"It'll be a goof, that's all. It takes such weird pictures."

"That's for sure." Greg muttered.

"We don't have anything else to do for my party." Shari told him. "I wanted to rent a video, but my mom says we have to go outdoors. She doesn't want her precious house messed up. So I thought we could take everyone's picture with the weird camera. You know. See what strange things come out."

"Shari, I really don't-"

"Bring it." Shari said before hanging up.

Real World

"Wow. Talk about some friend." Ruby said.

"Yeah." Neo agreed, recalling the times she met Shari.

"Roman. Is that how the camera got its name? From that dream?" Coco asked.

"Yes and no. The camera doesn't actually have a name. The Say Cheese and Die name is a nickname." Roman answered. "But yes, it came from that dream."

"Also, these stories and all that happened are real." Blake began. "Is Greg still friends with Shari, Bird, and Michael?"

"No. They stayed friends for a few years afterward. But things fell sour between them. Now they try to stay away from each other as much as possible." Neo answered.

"But back to the story. Greg stood for a long time, staring at the receiver and the demand Shari had given him. He thought hard about what he should do." Roman said.

Story

Greg replaced the receiver and headed reluctantly up to his room.

With a loud sigh, he pulled the camera from its hiding place in his headboard.

"It's Shari's birthday, after all." Greg muttered to himself. But as he picked up the camera, he noticed his hands were trembling. He then realized he was afraid of it.

'I shouldn't be doing this.' Greg thought, feeling a heavy knot in his stomach as he exited his house. And as he made his way across the flagstone patio to Shari's backyard, he saw his friend Bird. "How's it going, Bird?"

"I'm feeling okay." Bird answered, slapping his friend a high five. "The only problem is, ever since that ball hit me from time to time, I start - pluuccck cluuuck cluuuuck! Clucking like a chicken!"

"Hey, Bird - go lay an egg!" Someone yelled, and everyone laughed as Bird flapped his arms and started strutting across the backyard, clucking at the top of his voice.

"Bird's at it again." Michael said, shaking his head as he gave Greg a friendly punch to the shoulder. Michael, his red hair unbrushed as usual, was wearing faded jeans and a flowered Hawaiian sports shirt about three sizes too big for him.

"Where'd you get that shirt?" Greg asked, holding Michael at arm's length by the shoulders to admire it.

"In a cereal box." Bird chimed in, still flapping his arms.

"My grandmother gave it to me." Michael answered, frowning.

"He made it in home ec." Bird interrupted. One joke was never enough.

"But why did you wear it?" Greg asked.

"Everything else was dirty." Michael shrugged.

"Now, this one's dirty, too." Bird said after picking up a clump of dirt and rubbing it on Michael's shirt.

"Hey, you!" Michael said with playful anger as he grabbed and shoved Bird into the hedge.

"Did you bring it?" Hearing Shari's voice, Greg turned towards the house and saw her jogging across the patio in his direction. Her black hair was pulled back in a single braid, and she wore an oversized, silky yellow top that came down over black spandex leggings. A charm bracelet filled with tiny silver charms - a birthday present - jangled at her wrist. "Did you bring it?"

"Yeah." Greg reluctantly held up the camera.

"Excellent." Shari said.

"I really don't want." Greg started.

"You can take my picture first since it's my birthday." Shari interrupted before striking a sophisticated pose while leaning against a tree with her hand behind her head. "Here. How's this?"

"Are you sure you want me to do this, Shari ? ". Greg asked as he raised the camera.

"Yeah. Come on. I want to take everyone's pic."

"But it'll probably come out weird." Greg protested.

"I know." Shari replied impatiently, holding her pose. "That's the fun of it."

"But, Shari-"

"Michael puked on his shirt." Greg heard Bird telling someone near the hedge.

"I did not!"Michael screamed.

"You mean it looks like that naturally?" Bird asked. Greg could hear a lot of raucous laughing, all of it at Michael's expense.

"Will you take the picture!" Shari cried, holding on to the slender trunk of the tree. Greg pointed the lens at her and pressed the button. The camera whirred, and the undeveloped, white square rolled out.

"Hey, are we the only boys invited?"Michael asked, walking to Shari.

"Yeah. Just you three." Shari said. "And nine girls."

"Oh, wow." Michael said, making a face.

"Take Michael's picture next." Shari told Greg.

"No way!" Michael quickly said, raising his hands as if to shield himself and backing away. "The last time you took my picture with that thing, I fell down the stairs."

Trying to get away, Michael backed right into Nina Blake, one of Shari's friends. She reacted with a squeal of surprise, then gave him a playful shove, and he kept right on backing away.

"Michael, come on. It's my party." Shari shouted.

"What are we going to do? Is this it?" Nina demanded from halfway across the yard.

"I thought we'd take everyone's picture and then play a game or something." Shari answered.

"A game?" Bird asked. "You mean like Spin the Bottle?"

"Truth or Dare." Nina suggested.

"Yeah. Truth or Dare!" A couple of other girls called in agreement.

"Oh, no.," Greg groaned quietly to himself. Truth or Dare meant a lot of kissing and awkward, embarrassing stunts. Nine girls and only three boys. It was going to be really embarrassing.

'How could Shari do this to us?' Greg wondered.

"Well, did it come out?" Shari asked, grabbing his arm. "Let me see."

Greg was so upset about having to play Truth or Dare that he had forgotten about the snapshot developing in his hand. He held it up, and they both examined it.

"Where am I?" Shari asked in surprise. "What were you aiming at? You missed me!"

"Huh?" Greg stared at the snapshot. There was the tree. But no Shari. "Weird! I pointed it right at you. I lined it up carefully."

"Well, you missed me. I'm not in the shot." Shari said, disgusted.

"But, Shari."

"I mean, come on. I'm not invisible, Greg. I'm not a vampire or something. I can see my reflection in mirrors. And I do usually show up in photos."

"But, look-" Greg stared hard at the photograph. "There's the tree you were leaning against. You can see the tree trunk clearly. And there's the spot where you were standing."

"But where am I? Never mind." Shari demanded, jangling her charm bracelet noisily. She grabbed the snapshot from him and tossed it on the grass. "Take another one. Quick."

"Well, okay. But." Greg was still puzzling over the photo. Why hadn't Shari shown up in it? He bent down, picked it up, and shoved it into his pocket.

"Stand closer this time." She instructed.

Greg moved a few steps closer, carefully centered Shari in the viewfinder, and snapped the picture. A square of film zipped out the front.

Shari walked over and pulled the picture from the camera.

"This one better turn out." Shari said, staring hard at it as the colors began to darken and take form.

"If you really want pictures of everyone, we should get another camera." Greg said, his eyes also locked on the snapshot.

"Hey. I don't believe it! You were right. The dumb camera is broken. Forget it." Shari cried. Again, she was invisible. The tree was photographed clearly and in perfect focus. But Shari was nowhere to be seen. Shari handed the photo to Greg before turning away and calling "Truth Or Dare!" to the others. There were some cheers and some groans. Shari headed them back to the woods behind her backyard to play. "More privacy," she explained. There was a circular clearing just beyond the trees, a perfect, private place. The game was just as embarrassing as Greg had imagined. Among the boys, only Bird seemed to be enjoying it.

'Bird loves dumb stuff like this.' Greg thought, with some envy.

Luckily, after little more than half an hour, he heard Mrs. Walker, Shari's mom, calling from the house, summoning them back to cut the birthday cake.

"Aw, too bad." Greg said sarcastically.

"Just when the game was getting good." Bird said, grinning. "Michael's shirt is scaring the squirrels, anyway."

Laughing and talking about the game, the kids made their way back to the patio where the pink and - white birthday cake, candles all lit, was waiting on the round umbrella table.

"I must be a pretty bad mom. Allowing you all to go off into the woods by yourselves." Mrs. Walker joked, causing some of the girls to laugh. Cake knife in her hand, Mrs. Walker looked around. "Where's Shari?"

"She was with us in the woods." Nina told Mrs. Walker as everyone turned their eyes to search the backyard. "Just a minute ago."

"Hey, Shari!" Bird called, cupping his hands to his mouth as a megaphone.

"Earth calling Shari! It's cake time!"

No reply. No sign of her.

"Did she go in the house?" Greg asked.

"No. She didn't come by the patio. Is she still in the woods?" Mrs. Walker asked.

"I'll go check." Bird said.

Calling Shari's name, he ran to the edge of the trees at the back of the yard and then disappeared into the trees, still calling. A few minutes later, Bird emerged, signaling to the others with a shrug. No sign of her. They searched the house. The front yard. The woods again. But Shari had vanished.

A Few Hours Later

Greg sat in the shade with his back against the tree trunk, the camera on the ground at his side, and watched the policemen work. They covered the backyard and could be seen bending low as they searched the woods. He could hear their voices but couldn't make out what they were saying. Their faces were intent and bewildered. Soon, more policemen arrived, grim-faced, business-like. Yet, not even an hour later after they arrived, even more policemen arrived.

Mrs. Walker had called her husband home from a golf game. They sat huddled together on canvas chairs in the corner of the patio. They whispered to each other, eyes darting across the yard as they held hands while looking pale and worried. Everyone else had left. On the patio, the table was still set. The birthday candles had burned all the way down, the blue and red wax melting in hard puddles on the pink-and-white icing, the cake untouched.

"No sign of her. " A red-cheeked policeman with a white-blond mustache told the Walkers as he pulled off his cap and scratched his head, revealing short, blond hair.

"Did someone...take her away?" Mr. Walker asked, still holding his wife's hand.

"No sign of a struggle. No sign of anything, really." The policeman answered.

"I just don't understand it." Mrs. Walker sighed loudly and lowered her head, followed by a long, painful silence.

"We'll keep looking. I'm sure we'll find ... something." the policeman assured before returning to the woods. But he stopped in front of Greg. "Oh. Hi. You're still here, son? All the other guests have gone home."

"Yeah, I know." Greg replied solemnly, lifting the camera into his lap.

"I'm Officer Riddick."

"Yeah, I know."

"How come you didn't go home after we talked to you, like the others?"

"I'm just upset, I guess. I mean, Shari's a good friend, you know? Besides, I live right over there." Greg answered before gesturing with his head to his house next door.

"Well, you might as well go home, son." Riddick said, turning his eyes to the woods with a frown. "This search could take a long time. We haven't found a thing back there yet."

"I know." Greg said, rubbing his hand against the back of the camera. But as he did, he felt miserable and frightened. 'And I know that this camera is why Shari is missing.'

"One minute, she was there. The next minute she was gone." The policeman said, studying Greg's face as if looking for answers there.

"Yeah. "It's so weird." Greg replied. 'It's weirder than anyone knows. The camera made her invisible. The camera did it. First, she vanished from the snapshot. Then she vanished in real life. The camera did it to her. I don't know how. But it did.'

"Do you have something more to tell me?" Riddick asked, hands resting on his hips, his right hand just above the worn brown holster that carried his pistol. "Did you see something? Something that might give us a clue to help us out? Something you didn't remember to tell me before? "

'Should I tell him?' Greg wondered.

If Greg told the policeman about the camera, he'd ask where he got it. And he'll have to tell him he got it in the Coffman house. And they'll all get in trouble for breaking in there. But big deal. Shari is missing. Gone. Vanished. That's a lot more important. Greg should tell him. But as soon as Greg decided to tell him, he hesitated. There was little chance the policeman would even believe him. And even if he did, how would it bring Shari back?

"You look very troubled." Riddick said, squatting down next to Greg in the shade. "What's your name again?"

"Greg. Greg Banks."

"Well, you look very troubled, Greg. Why don't you tell me what's bothering you? Why don't you tell me what's on your mind? I think it'll make you feel a lot better."

Greg took a deep breath and glanced up to the patio. Mrs. Walker had covered her face with her hands. Her husband was leaning over her, trying to comfort her.

"Well ..." Greg started.

"Go ahead, son." Riddick urged softly. "Do you know where Shari is?"

"It's this camera." Greg blurted out. He could suddenly feel the blood throbbing against his temples.

He took a deep breath and then continued. "You see, this camera is weird."

"What do you mean?" Riddick asked quietly. Greg took another deep breath.

"I took Shari's picture. Before. When I first arrived. I took two pictures. And she was invisible. In both of them. See?"

"No. I don't understand." Riddick answered, closing his eyes, then opening them.

"Shari was invisible in the picture. Everything else was there. But she wasn't. She had vanished, see. And, then, later, she vanished for real. It predicts the future, I guess. Or it makes bad things happen."

Greg raised the camera, attempting to hand it to the policeman. Riddick made no attempt to take it. He stared hard at Greg, his eyes narrowing and expression hardening. Greg felt a sudden stab of fear.

'Oh, no. Why is he looking at me like that? What is he going to do?' Greg thought, still holding the camera out to the policeman.

"The camera makes bad things happen?" Riddick's eyes burned into Greg's as he climbed to his feet.

"Yes." Greg told him. "It isn't my camera, see? And every time I take a picture.

"Son, that's enough." Riddick gently said as he reached down and rested a hand on Greg's trembling shoulder. "I think you're very upset, Greg. I don't blame you. This is very upsetting for everyone."

"But it's true-" Greg started to insist.

"I'm going to ask that officer over there." Riddick said, pointing to a nearby officer. "To take you home now. And I'm going to have him tell your parents that you've been through a very frightening experience."

'I knew he wouldn't believe me. How could I have been so stupid? Now he thinks I'm some kind of a nut case.' Greg bitterly thought as Riddick called to a policeman at the side of the house near the hedge.

"No, that's okay." Greg said, quickly pulling himself up and cradling the camera in his hand. "I can make it home okay."

"You sure ?" Riddick asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Yeah. I can walk by myself."

"If you have anything to tell me later." Riddick said, lowering his gaze to the camera. "Just call the station, okay?"

"Okay." Greg replied, walking slowly toward the front of the house.

"Don't worry, Greg. We'll do our best." Riddick called after him. "We'll find her. Put the camera away and try to get some rest, okay?"

"Okay." Greg muttered as he hurried past the Walkers, who were still huddled together under the umbrella on the patio. 'Why was I so stupid? Why did I expect that policeman to believe such a weird story? I'm not even sure I believe it myself.'

A few minutes later, Greg pulled open the back screen door and entered his kitchen.

"Anybody home?"

No reply. Greg headed through the back hall towards the living room.

"Anyone home?"

No one. Terry was at work. His mother must have been visiting his dad at the hospital. Greg felt bad. He really didn't feel like being alone now. He really wanted to tell them about what had happened to Shari. He really wanted to talk to them. Still cradling the camera, Greg climbed the stairs to his room.

Greg stopped in the doorway, blinked twice, then uttered a cry of horror.

His books were scattered all over the floor. The covers had been pulled off his bed. His desk drawers were all open; their contents were strewn around the room. The desk lamp was on its side on the floor. All of his clothes had been pulled from the dresser and his closet and tossed everywhere. Someone had been in Greg's room and turned it upside down!

'Who would do this?' Greg asked himself, staring in horror at his ransacked room.

Who would tear my room apart like this?

He realized that he knew the answer. He knew who would do it, who had done it. Someone was looking for the camera. Someone was desperate enough to get the camera back. Was it Spidey? The creepy guy who dressed all in black was living in the Coffman house. Was he the owner of the camera?

'Yes.' Greg thought.

Spidey had done it. Spidey had been watching Greg, spying on Greg from behind the bleachers at the Little League game. He knew that Greg had his camera. And he knew where Greg lived. That thought was the most chilling of all. He knew where Greg lived.

Greg turned away from the chaos in his room, leaned against the wall of the hallway, and closed his eyes. He pictured Spidey, the dark figure creeping along so evilly on his spindly legs. He imagined him inside the house, Greg's house, inside Greg's room.

'He was here.' Greg thought. 'He pawed through all my things. He wrecked my room.'

Stepping back into his room, Greg felt conflicted. He felt like shouting angrily and crying for help all at once. But he was all alone. No one to hear him. No one was there to help him.

'What now?' He wondered. 'What now?'

Suddenly, leaning against the doorframe, staring at his ransacked room, he knew what he had to do.

Real World

"When Shari returned, did she remember anything?" Ruby asked.

"Yes. But Shari couldn't remember anything clearly." Roman answered.

"It was all a blur to her. The only thing she could recall somewhat clearly was being in an area with a lot of rooms. It was kind of like a backspace of some sort. But she couldn't explore it as it became a blur again." Neo added.

"But back to the story. After cleaning up his room as fast as he could, Greg picked up the receiver and called his friend, Bird." Roman said.

Story

"Hey, Bird, it's me." Greg said.

"Did they find Shari?" Bird asked eagerly.

"I haven't heard. I don't think so." Greg said, surveying his room. It was finally almost back to normal. He had put everything back, cleaned, and straightened. His parents would never guess someone ransacked his room.

"Listen, Bird; I'm not calling about that." Greg said, speaking rapidly into the phone. "Call Michael for me, okay? Meet me at the playground. By the baseball diamond."

"When? Now?" Bird asked, sounding confused.

"Yeah." Greg answered. "We have to meet. It's important."

"It's almost dinnertime." Bird said. "I don't know if my parents-"

"It's important." Greg repeated. "I've got to see you guys. Okay?"

"Well ... maybe I can sneak out for a few minutes." Bird said, lowering his voice. And then Greg heard him shout to his mother: "It's no one, Ma! I'm talking to no one!"

'Boy, that's quick thinking!' Greg thought sarcastically. 'He's a worse liar than I am!'

"I know I'm on the phone. But I'm not talking to anyone. It's only Greg." Bird shouted.

'Thanks a lot, pal.' Greg thought.

"I gotta go." Bird said.

"Get Michael, okay?" Greg urged.

"Yeah. Okay. See you."

Greg replaced the receiver, then listened for his mother. Nothing but silence downstairs, meaning she wasn't home yet. But Greg then realized his mother didn't know about Shari. Greg knew she and his dad were going to be very upset, very upset. Almost as upset as he was. Thinking about his missing friend, he went to his bedroom window and looked down on her yard next door. It was deserted now. The police had all left, and Shari's shaken parents must have gone inside.

A squirrel sat under the wide shade of the big tree, gnawing furiously at an acorn, another acorn at his feet. In the corner of the window, Greg could see the birthday cake, still sitting forlornly on the deserted table, the places all set, the decorations still standing.

'A birthday party for ghosts.' Greg shuddered. "Shari is alive. They'll find her. She's alive."

Greg knew what he had to do now. Forcing himself away from the window, he hurried to meet his two friends.

Ten Minutes Later

"No way. Have you gone totally bananas?" Bird said heatedly, leaning against the bleacher bench. Swinging the camera by its cord, Greg turned hopefully to Michael. But Michael avoided Greg's stare.

"I'm with Bird." Michael said, avoiding Greg's stare by staring at the camera.

Since it was just about dinnertime, the playground was nearly deserted. A few little kids were on the swings at the other end. Two kids were riding their bikes around and around the soccer field.

"I thought maybe you guys would come with me." Greg said, disappointed. He kicked up a clump of grass with his sneaker before raising the camera. "I know it's what I have to do. I have to put it back where I found it."

"No way." Bird repeated, shaking his head. "I'm not going back to the Coffman house. Once was enough."

"Chicken?" Greg angrily asked.

"Yeah." Bird quickly admitted.

"You don't have to take it back." Michael argued, pulling himself up the side of the bleachers, climbing onto the third deck of seats, then lowering himself to the ground.

"What do you mean?" Greg impatiently asked, kicking at the grass.

"Just toss it, Greg." Michael answered, making a throwing motion with one hand. "Heave it. Throw it in the trash somewhere."

"Yeah. Or leave it right here." Bird suggested, reaching for the camera. "Give it to me. I'll hide it under the seats."

"You don't understand." Greg said, swinging the camera out of Bird's reach. "Throwing it away won't do any good."

"Why not?" Bird asked, making another swipe for the camera.

"Spidey'll just come back for it." Greg said. "He'll come back to my room looking for it. He'll come after me. I know it."

"But what if we get caught taking it back?" Michael asked.

"Yeah. What if Spidey's there in the Coffman house, and he catches us?" Bird asked.

"You don't understand." Greg cried. "He knows where I live! He was at my house. He was in my room! He wants his camera back, and-"

"Here. Give it to me. We don't have to go back to that house. He can find it. Right here." Bird said as he tried to grab the camera again. But Greg held tightly to the strap and tried to tug it away. Yet Bird grabbed the side of the camera.

"No!" Greg cried out as it flashed, then whirred with a square of film sliding out a second later.

"You took my picture!" Greg said, horrified as the white square began to develop. His hands trembling, Greg pulled the snapshot from the camera and wondered what it would show.

"Sorry." Bird said. "I didn't mean to-"

But before he could finish his sentence, a voice interrupted him from behind the bleachers.

"Hey, what've you got there?" Greg looked up from the developing snapshot in surprise. Two tough-looking boys stepped out of the shadows, their expressions hard, their eyes on the camera.

Greg recognized them immediately. Joey Ferris and Mickey Ward - two ninth-graders who hung out together, always swaggering around, acting tough, and picking on kids younger than them. Their specialty was taking kids' bikes, riding off on them, and dumping them somewhere. There was a rumor around school that Mickey had once beaten up a kid so badly that the kid was disabled for life. But Greg believed Mickey made up that rumor and spread it himself.

Both boys were big for their age. Neither of them did very well in school. And even though they liked terrorizing little kids and getting into fights, they were always stealing bikes and skateboards, and neither of them ever seemed to get into serious trouble. Joey had short blond hair, slicked straight up, and wore a diamondlike stud in one ear. Mickey had a round, red face full of pimples, stringy black hair down to his shoulders, and was working a toothpick between his teeth. Both boys were wearing heavy metal T-shirts and jeans.

"Hey, I've gotta get home." Bird quickly said, half-stepping, half-dancing away from the bleachers.

"Me, too." Michael said, unable to keep the fear from showing on his face. Greg tucked the snapshot into his jeans pocket.

"Hey, you found my camera." Joey said, grabbing it out of Greg's hand. His small, gray eyes burned into Greg's as if searching for a reaction. "Thanks, man."

"Give it back, Joey." Greg said with a sigh.

"Yeah. Don't take that camera." Mickey told his friend, a smile spreading over his round face. "It's mine!"

"Give it back. Greg angrily said, reaching out his hand. Then he softened his tone. "Come on, guys. It isn't mine."

"I know it isn't yours." Mickey said, grinning. "Because it's mine!"

"I have to give it back to the owner." Greg told him, trying not to whine.

"No, you don't. I'm the owner now." Mickey said.

"Haven't you ever heard of finders keepers?" Joey asked, leaning over Greg menacingly. He was about six inches taller than Greg and much more muscular.

"Hey, let him have the thing." Michael whispered in Greg's ear. "You wanted to get rid of it, right?"

"No!" Greg protested.

"What's your problem, Freckle Face?" Joey asked Michael, eyeing him up and down.

"No problem." Michael meekly said.

"Hey, say cheese !" Mickey said, aiming the camera at Joey.

"Don't do it." Bird interrupted, waving his hands frantically.

"Why not?" Joey demanded.

"Because your face will break the camera." Bird said, laughing.

"You're really funny." Joey sarcastically said, narrowing his eyes threateningly as he raised a fist. "You want that stupid smile to be permanent?

"I know this kid. Thinks he's hot stuff." Mickey told Joey, pointing at Bird.

Both boys stared hard at Bird, trying to scare him. Bird swallowed hard, took a step back, and bumped into the bleachers.

"No, I don't. I don't think I'm hot stuff." Bird said. "I don't think I'm hot stuff."

"He looks like something I stepped in yesterday." Joey said, causing him and Mickey to laugh like hyenas and slap each other before hi-fiving.

"Listen, guys. I really need the camera back." Greg said, reaching out a hand to take it. "It isn't any good, anyway. It's broken. And it doesn't belong to me."

"Yeah, that's right. It's broken."Michael said, nodding his head.

"Yeah. Right." Mickey said sarcastically, raising the camera and aiming it at Joey. "Let's just see."

"Really, guys. I need it back." Greg desperately said. He knew if they took a photo, they would discover the camera's secret. They would learn it would take snapshots of the future where only bad things happened. They would realize the camera was evil and possibly even caused evil.

"Say cheese." Mickey said.

"Just snap the stupid thing!" Joey said, getting impatient.

'No. I can't let this happen. I've got to return the camera to the Coffman house, to Spidey.' Greg thought. Impulsively, Greg leaped forward, and with a cry, he snatched the camera away from Mickey's face.

"Hey!" Mickey reacted in surprise.

"Let's go!" Greg shouted to Bird and Michael. And without another word, the three friends turned and ran across the deserted playground toward their homes. His heart thudded in his chest; Greg gripped the camera tightly and ran as fast as he could, his sneakers pounding over the dry grass.

'They're going to catch us.' Greg thought, panting as he raced toward the street. 'They're going to catch us and pound us. They're going to take back the camera. We're dead meat. Dead meat.'

Greg and his friends didn't turn around until they were across the street. Breathing noisily, they looked back - and cried out in relieved surprise. Joey and Mickey hadn't budged from beside the bleachers. They hadn't chased after them. They were leaning against the bleachers, laughing.

"Catch you later, guys !" Joey called after them.

"Yeah. Later." Mickey repeated before they both burst out laughing as if they said something hilarious.

"That was close." Michael said, still breathing hard.

"They mean it." Bird said, looking very troubled. "They'll catch us later. We're history."

"Tough talk. They're just a lot of hot air."Greg insisted.

"Oh, yeah?" Michael cried. "Then why did we run like that?"

"Because we're late for dinner." Bird joked. "See you guys. I'm gonna catch it if I don't hurry.

"But the camera." Greg reminded, tightly gripping the camera.

"It's too late." Michael said, nervously raking a hand back through his red hair.

"Yeah. We'll have to do it tomorrow or something." Bird agreed.

"Then you guys will come with me?" Greg asked eagerly.

"Uh. I've gotta go." Bird said without answering.

"Me, too." Michael said quickly, avoiding Greg's stare. All three of them turned their eyes back to the playground. Joey and Mickey had disappeared. They're probably off to terrorize some other kids.

"Later." Bird said, slapping Greg on the shoulder as he headed away.

The three friends split up, running in different directions across lawns and driveways, heading home. Greg had run all the way to his front yard before he remembered the snapshot he had shoved into his jeans pocket.

He stopped in the driveway and pulled it out. The sun was lowering behind the garage. He held the snapshot up close to his face to see it clearly.

"Oh, no!" he cried. "I don't believe it!"

Real World

"What happened to those two kids?" Nora asked, knuckles white.

"Oooh." Roman said, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably.

"Let's just say they picked on some pumpkin-headed people. And now are no longer with us or on Remnant." Neo added, confusing the others.

"What does that mean?" Weiss asked.

"Jaune will explain it once he returns." Roman said before coughing into his fist. "But back to the story. As Greg stared at the photo, he shouted that it was impossible."

Story

How had Shari gotten into the photo?'

It had been taken a few minutes before, in front of the bleachers on the playground. But there was Shari, standing close beside him. Greg studied the photo, his hand trembling and mouth hanging open in disbelief. It was very clear, very sharp. There they were on the playground. He could see the baseball diamond in the background.

And there they were. Greg and Shari. Shari was standing so clear, so sharp- right next to him. And they were both staring straight ahead, their eyes wide, their mouths open, their expressions are frozen in horror as a large shadow covered them both.

"Shari?" Greg cried, lowering the snapshot and darting his eyes over the front yard. " Are you here? Can you hear me?"

Silence. Greg tried again.

"Shari? Are you here?"

"Greg!" A voice shouted, causing Greg to spin around while letting out a startled cry.

"Huh?"

"Greg!" The voice repeated. It took him a while to realize that his mother was calling him from the front door.

"Oh. Hi, Mom." Greg, feeling dazed, slipped the photo into his jack before running to the front.

"Where've you been?" His mother asked. "I heard about Shari. I've been so upset. I didn't know where you were."

"Sorry, Mom." Greg said, kissing her on the cheek. "I- I should've left a note."

He stepped into the house, feeling strange and out-of-sorts, sad and confused and frightened, all at the same time.

Two Days Later

It was a gloomy day. There were gray clouds, the air was hot, and it was smoggy. School had just finished, and Greg was pacing in his room. The house was empty except for him. Terry had gone off a few hours before to his after-school job at the Dairy Freeze. Mrs. Banks had driven to the hospital to pick up Greg's dad, who was finally coming home.

Greg knew he should be happy about his dad's return. But too many things were troubling him, tugging at his mind, frightening him. For one thing, Shari still hadn't been found. The police were completely baffled. Their new theory was that she'd been kidnapped. Her frantic, grieving parents waited at home by the phone. But no kidnappers called to demand a ransom.

There were no clues of any kind. Greg could do nothing but wait and hope. As the days passed, Greg felt more and more guilty. He was sure Shari hadn't been kidnapped. He knew that somehow the camera had made her disappear. But Greg couldn't tell anyone else what he believed.

No one would believe him. Anyone Greg tried to tell the story to would think he was crazy. Cameras can't be evil, after all. Cameras can't make people fall down stairs. Or crash their cars. Or vanish from sight. Cameras can only record what they see. Greg stared out of his window, pressing his forehead against the glass, looking down on Shari's backyard.

"Shari. Where are you ?" He asked, staring at the tree where she had posed.

The camera was still hidden in the secret compartment in his headboard. Neither Bird nor Michael would agree to help Greg return it to the Coffman house. Besides, Greg had decided to hold on to it a while longer in case he needed it as proof. In case he decided to confide his fears about it to someone.

His other fear was that Spidey would come back, back to Greg's room, back for the camera. He had so much to be frightened about but very little he could do. Greg pushed himself away from the window. He had spent so much time in the past few days staring at Shari's empty backyard.

Thinking. Thinking.

With a sigh, Greg reached into the headboard and pulled out two of the snapshots he had hidden in there along with the camera. The two snapshots were the ones taken the past Saturday at Shari's birthday party. Holding one in each hand, Greg stared at them, hoping he could see something new, something he hadn't noticed before. But the photos hadn't changed. They still showed her tree, her backyard, green in the sunlight. And no Shari. No one where Shari had been standing. It was as if the lens had penetrated right through her.

Staring at the photos, Greg let out a cry of anguish. If only he had never gone into the Coffman house. If only he had never stolen the camera.

If only he had never taken any photos with it.

If only ... if only . . . if only . . .

Before Greg realized what he was doing, he was ripping the two snapshots into tiny pieces. Panting loudly, his chest heaving, he tore at the snapshots and let the pieces fall to the floor. When he had ripped them both into tiny shards of paper, he flung himself facedown on his bed and closed his eyes, waiting for his heart to stop pounding and the heavy feeling of guilt and horror to lift.

Two Hours Later

"Shari. Is it really you?" Greg shouted into the phone, hardly believing the voice.

"Yeah. It's me!" She sounded as surprised as he did.

"But how? I mean-" Greg asked, his mind racing. He didn't know what to say.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Hold on a minute." Shari told him. And he heard her step away from the phone to talk to her mother. "Mom. Stop crying already. Mom. It's really me. I'm home."

A few seconds later, she came back on the line.

"I've been home for two hours, and Mom's still crying and carrying on."

"I feel like crying, too." Greg admitted. "I-I just can't believe it! Shari, where were you?"

"I don't know." She answered after a few moments.

"Huh?"

"I really don't. It was just so weird, Greg. One minute there I was at my birthday party. The next minute, I was standing in front of my house. And it was two days later. But I don't remember being away or being anywhere else. I don't remember anything at all."

"You don't remember going away? Or coming back?" Greg asked.

"No. Nothing." Shari said, her voice trembling. "Shari, those pictures I took of you? With the weird camera? You were invisible in them."

"And then I disappeared." She said, finishing his thought.

"Shari, do you think?"

"I don't know." she replied quickly. "I-I have to get off now. The police are here. They want to question me. What am I going to tell them? They're going to think I had amnesia or flipped out or something."

"I- I don't know." Greg said, completely bewildered. "We have to talk about the camera."

"I can't now. Maybe tomorrow. Okay?" She said before shouting to her mother that she was coming. "Bye, Greg. See you."

And then she hung up.

Greg replaced the receiver but sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the phone for a long time. Shari was back. She'd been back about two hours. Two hours. Two hours. Two hours. He turned his eyes to the clock radio beside the phone. Just two hours before, he had ripped up the two snapshots of an invisible Shari.

His mind whirred with wild ideas, insane ideas. Had he brought Shari back by ripping up the photos? Did this mean that the camera caused her to disappear? That the camera caused all of the terrible things that showed up in its snapshots? Greg stared at the phone for a long time, think ng hard. He knew what he had to do. He had to talk to Shari. And they had to return the camera.

Next Day

Greg met Shari on the playground the following afternoon. The sun floated high in a cloudless sky. Eight or nine kids were engaged in a noisy brawl of a soccer game, running one way, then the other across the outfield of the baseball diamond.

"Hey. You look like you!" Greg exclaimed as Shari came jogging up to where he stood beside the bleachers. He pinched her arm. "Yeah. It's you."

"I feel fine. Just confused. And tired. The police asked me questions for hours. And when they finally went away, my parents started to cry again. Sorry, Greg." She told him, rubbing her arm while staring down at his sneakers. She then rested her back against the side of the bleachers, shaking her head. "I think Mom and Dad believe somehow it's my fault that I disappeared."

"It's the camera's fault." Greg muttered before raising his eyes to hers. "The camera is evil."

"Maybe. I don't know what to think. I really don't." Shari shrugged. Greg showed her the snapshot, the one showing the two of them on the playground staring in horror as a shadow crept over them. "How weird."

"I want to take the camera back to the Coffman house." Greg said heatedly. "I can go home and get it now. Will you help me? Will you come with me?"

Shari started to reply but stopped. They both saw the dark shadow move, sliding toward them quickly, silently, over the grass. And then they saw the man dressed all in black, his spindly legs pumping hard as he approached them.

Spidey!

Greg grabbed Shari's hand, frozen in fear. He and Shari gaped in terror as Spidey's slithering shadow crept over them. Greg had a shudder of recognition. He knew the snapshot had just come true. As the dark figure of Spidey moved toward them like a black tarantula, Greg pulled Shari's hand.

"Run!" Greg shouted.

He didn't have to say it. They were both running now, gasping as they ran across the grass toward the street. Their sneakers thudded loudly on the ground as they reached the sidewalk and kept running. Greg turned to see Spidey closing the gap.

"He's catching up!"

Spidey, his face still hidden in the shadows of his black baseball cap, moved with startling speed, his long legs kicking high as he pursued them.

"He's going to catch us!" Greg cried, feeling as if his chest were about to burst. "He's ... too fast!"

Spidey moved even closer, his shadow scuttling over the grass.

Closer.

When the car horn honked, Greg screamed. He and Shari stopped short. The horn blasted out again. Greg turned to see a familiar young man inside a small hatchback. It was Jerry Norman, who lived across the street.

"Is this man chasing you?" Jerry asked, lowering his car window. Without waiting for an answer, he backed the car towards Spidey. "I'm calling the cops, mister!"

Spidey didn't reply. Instead, he turned and darted across the street.

"I'm warning you!" Jerry shouted. But Spidey had disappeared behind a tall hedge. "Are you kids okay?"

"Yeah. Fine." Greg managed to say, still breathing hard, his chest heaving.

"We're okay. Thanks, Jerry." Shari said.

"I've seen that guy around the neighborhood." Jerry said, staring through the windshield at the tall hedge. "Never thought he was dangerous. You kids want me to call the police?"

"No. It's okay." Greg replied. 'As soon as I give him back his camera, he'll stop chasing us.'

"Well, be careful, okay?" Jerry said, studying their faces as if trying to determine how frightened and upset they were. "You need a lift home or anything?"

"We'll be okay." Greg said as he and Shari shook their heads. "Thanks."

Jerry warned them once again to be careful, then drove off, his tires squealing as he turned the corner.

"That was close." Shari said, her eyes on the hedge. "Why was Spidey chasing us?"

"He thought I had the camera. He wants it back." Greg answered. " Meet me tomorrow, okay? In front of the Coffman house. Help me put it back?"

Shari stared at him without replying, her expression thoughtful and wary.

"We're going to be in danger - all of us - until we put that camera back." Greg insisted.

"Okay." Shari said quietly. "Tomorrow."

The Next Day

Something scurried through the tall weeds of the unmowed front lawn.

"What was that? It was too big to be a squirrel." Shari cried, whispering even though no one else was in sight. She lingered behind Greg, who stopped to look up at the Coffman house.

"Maybe it was a raccoon or something." Greg said, gripping the camera tightly in both hands.

It was a little after three o'clock the next afternoon, a hazy, overcast day. Mountains of dark clouds threatening rain were rolling across the sky, stretching behind the house, casting it in shadow.

"It's going to storm." Shari said, staying close behind Greg. "Let's get this over with and go home."

"Good idea." He said, glancing up at the heavy sky.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, a low roar. The old trees that dotted the front yard whispered and shook.

"We can't just run inside." Greg said, watching the sky darken. "First, we have to make sure. Spidey isn't there."

Making their way quickly through the tall grass and weeds, they stopped at the living room window and peered inside. Thunder rumbled, low and long, in the distance. Greg thought he saw another creature scuttle through the weeds around the corner of the house.

"It's too dark in there. I can't see a thing." Shari said.

"Let's check out the basement." Greg suggested. "That's where Spidey hangs out, remember?"

The sky darkened to an eerie gray-green as they made their way to the back of the house and dropped to their knees to peer down through the basement windows at ground level. Squinting through the dust-covered window panes, they could see the makeshift, plywood table Spidey had made, the wardrobe against the wall, its doors still open, the colorful, old clothing spilling out, the empty frozen food boxes scattered on the floor.

"No sign of him." Greg whispered, cradling the camera in his arm as if it might try to escape from him if he didn't hold it tightly. "Let's get moving."

"Are you sure?" Shari stammered. She wanted to be brave. But the thought that she had disappeared for two days - completely destroyed any chance of that happening. 'Michael and Bird were chickens. But maybe they were the smart ones. She wished this were over. All over.'

A few seconds later, Greg and Shari pushed open the front door. They stepped into the darkness of the front hall. They stopped and listened. And then they both jumped at the sound of the loud, sudden crash directly behind them.

"It's just the door! The wind!" Shari said, regaining her voice. A gust of wind had made the front door slam.

"Let's get this over with." Greg whispered, badly shaken.

"We never should've broken into this house in the first place." Shari whispered as they made their way on tiptoe, step by creaking step, down the dark hallway toward the basement stairs.

"It's a little late for that." Pulling open the door to the basement steps, Greg stopped again. "What's that banging sound upstairs?"

Shari's features tightened in fear as she heard it, too, a repeated, almost rhythmic banging.

"Shutters?" Greg suggested.

"Yeah." Shari quickly agreed, breathing a sigh of relief. "A lot of the shutters are loose, remember?"

The entire house seemed to groan. Thunder rumbled outside, closer now. They stepped onto the landing, then waited for their eyes to adjust to the darkness.

"Couldn't we just leave the camera up here and run?" Shari asked, more of a plea than a question.

"No. I want to put it back." Greg insisted.

"But, Greg-" She tugged at his arm as he started down the stairs.

"No!" He pulled out of her grasp. "He was in my room, Shari! He tore everything apart, looking for it. I want him to find it where it belongs. If he doesn't find it, he'll come back to my house. I know he will!"

"Okay, okay. Let's just hurry."

It was brighter in the basement, gray light seeping down from the four ground-level windows. Outside, the wind swirled and pushed against the windowpanes. A pale flash of lightning made shadows flicker against the basement wall. The old house groaned as if unhappy about the storm.

"What was that? Footsteps?" Shari stopped halfway across the basement and listened.

"It's just the house." Greg said, but his quivering voice betrayed him. He stopped and listened too.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The shutter high above them continued its rhythmic pounding.

"Where did you find the camera, anyway?" Shari whispered, following Greg to the far wall across from the enormous furnace with its cobwebbed ducts sprouting up like pale tree limbs.

"Over here." Greg answered. He stepped up to the worktable and reached for the vise clamped on the edge. "When I turned the vise, a door opened up. It's some kind of hidden shelf. That's where the camera-"

He cranked the handle of the vise. Once again, the door to the secret shelf popped open.

"Good." Greg whispered, flashing Shari a smile. He shoved the camera onto the shelf, tucking the carrying strap under it. Then he pushed the door closed. "We're out of here."

He felt so much better. So relieved. So much lighter. The house groaned and creaked, but Greg didn't care. Another flash of lightning, brighter this time, like a camera flash, sent shadows flickering on the wall.

"Come on." Greg whispered.

But Shari was already ahead of him, making her way carefully over the food cartons strewn everywhere, hurrying towards the steps. They were halfway up the stairs, Greg one step behind Shari, when, above them, Spidey stepped silently into view on the landing, blocking their escape. Greg blinked and shook his head as if he could shake away the image of the figure that stared darkly down at him.

"No!" Shari cried out and fell back against Greg.

He grabbed for the railing, forgetting that it had fallen under Michael's weight during their first unfortunate visit to the house. Luckily, Shari regained her balance before toppling them both down the stairs.

Lightning flashed behind them, sending a flash of white light across the stairway. But the unmoving figure on the landing above them remained shrouded in darkness.

"Let us go!" Greg finally managed to cry, finding his voice.

"Yeah. We returned your camera!" Shari added, sounding shrill and frightened.

Spidey didn't reply. Instead, he took a step towards them, onto the first step. And then he descended another step. Nearly stumbling again, Greg and Shari backed down to the basement floor. The wooden stairs squeaked in protest as the dark figure stepped slowly, steadily, down. As Spidey reached the basement floor, a crackling bolt of lightning cast a blue light over him, and Greg and Shari saw his face for the first time.

In the brief flash of color, they saw that he was old, older than they had imagined. His eyes were small and round, like dark marbles. His mouth was small, too, pursed in a tight, menacing grimace.

"We returned the camera." Shari said, staring in fear as Spidey crept closer. "Can't we go now? Please?"

"Let me see." Spidey said. His voice was younger than his face, warmer than his eyes. "Come."

They hesitated. But he gave them no choice. Ushering them back across the cluttered floor to the worktable, he wrapped his large, spidery hand over the vise and turned the handle. The door opened. He pulled out the camera and held it close to his face to examine it.

"You shouldn't have taken it." He told them, speaking softly, turning the camera in his hands.

"We're sorry." Shari said quickly.

"Can we go now?" Greg asked, edging towards the stairs.

"It's not an ordinary camera." Spidy said, his small eyes on them.

"We know. The pictures it took. They-" Greg began but trailed off when Spidey's eyes grew wide, and his expression turned angry.

"You took pictures with it?" Spidey asked, furious.

"Just a few." Greg answered, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. "They didn't come out. Really."

"You know about the camera, then." Spidey said, moving quickly to the center of the floor.

'Is he trying to block our escape?' Greg wondered. "It's broken or something."

"It's not broken. It's evil." Spidey said, motioning toward a low plywood table. "Sit there."

Shari and Greg exchanged glances. Then, reluctantly, they sat down on the edge of the board, sitting stiffly, nervously, their eyes darting towards the stairway, towards escape.

"The camera is evil." Spidey said, standing over them, holding the camera in both hands. "I should know. I helped to create it."

"You're an inventor?" Greg asked, glancing at Shari, who was nervously tugging at a strand of her black hair.

"I'm a scientist. Or, I should say, I was a scientist. My name is Fredericks. Dr. Fritz Fredericks." Spidey corrected as he transferred the camera from one hand to another. "My lab partner invented this camera. It was his pride and joy. More than that, it would have made him a fortune. Would have, are the key terms."

"What happened to him? Did he die?" Shari asked, still fiddling with the strand of hair.

"No. Worse. I stole the invention from him. I stole the plans and the camera. I was evil, you see. I was young and greedy. So very greedy. And I wasn't above stealing to make my fortune." Dr. Fredericks snickered before pausing and eyeing them both as if waiting for them to say something, perhaps to offer their disapproval of him. But he continued his story when Greg and Shari remained silent, staring up at him from the low plywood table. Spidey then gained a sad smile on his face before coughing into his hand. "When I stole the camera, it caught my partner by surprise. Unfortunately, from then on, all of the surprises were mine. My partner, you see, was much more evil than I was."

Dr. Fredericks coughed into his hand, then began to pace in front of Greg and Shari as he talked, speaking softly, slowly, as if remembering the story for the first time in a long while.

"My partner was a truly evil one. He dabbled in the dark arts. I should correct myself. He didn't just dabble. He was quite a master of it all." Spidey held up the camera, waving it above his head, then lowering it. "My partner put a curse on the camera. If he couldn't profit from it, he wanted to make sure that I never would, either. And so he put a curse on it."

He turned his gaze on Greg, leaning over him.

"Do you know about how some primitive peoples fear the camera? They fear the camera because they believe it will steal their soul if it takes their picture." He patted the camera. "Well, this camera really does steal souls."

Staring up at the camera, Greg shuddered. The camera had stolen Shari away. Would it have stolen all of their souls?

"People have died because of this camera. People close to me. That is how I came to learn of the curse and the camera's evil. And then I learned something just as frightening. The camera cannot be destroyed." Dr. Fredericks said, uttering a slow, sad sigh. He coughed, cleared his throat noisily, and began to pace in front of them again. "And so I vowed to keep the camera a secret. To keep it away from people so it cannot do its evil. I lost my job. My family. I lost everything because of it. But I am determined to keep the camera where it can do no harm."

He stopped pacing with his back towards them. He stood silently, shoulders hunched, lost in thought. Greg quickly climbed to his feet and motioned for Shari to do the same.

"Well ... uh ... I guess it's good we returned it." Greg said hesitantly. "Sorry we caused so much trouble."

"Yeah, we're very sorry." Shari repeated sincerely. "Guess it's back in the right hands."

"Goodbye." Greg said, starting towards the steps. "It's getting late, and we-"

"No!" Dr. Fredericks shouted, startling them both. He moved quickly to block the way. "I'm afraid you can't go. You know too much."

Real World

"Wait. So Dr. Fredericks's partner invented the camera, and Spidey stole it." Pyrrha said.

"Yes." Roman answered.

"Is Spidey's partner still alive?" Weiss asked.

"Not sure. We searched high and low for him. But we found nothing. Our best guess is the camera did something to him." Neo answered.

"Is it true that the camera can steal people's souls?" Velvet asked, now even more worried for Jaune.

"That's a tough one. We don't have any concrete proof. While some others did run some tests, the results were inconclusive." Roman answered. "Alright. No more questions. We're almost finished. I can never let you leave, Dr. Frederick declared, the flash of lightning lighting up his face."

Story

Dr. Fredericks crossed his bony arms in front of his black sweatshirt.

"But we won't tell anyone." Greg said, his voice rising until the words became a plea.

"Really. Your secret is good with us." Shari insisted, her frightened eyes on Greg. Dr. Fredericks stared at them menacingly but didn't reply.

"You can trust us." Greg said, his voice quivering. He cast a frightened glance at Shari.

"Besides." Shari said, "Even if we did tell anyone, who would believe us?"

"Enough talk." Dr. Fredericks snapped. "It won't do you any good. I've worked too long and too hard to keep the camera a secret."

A rush of wind pushed against the windows, sending up a low howl. The wind carried a drumroll of rain. The sky through the basement windows was as black as night.

"You can't keep us here forever!" Shari cried, unable to keep the growing terror from her voice. The rain pounded against the windows now, a steady downpour. Dr. Fredericks drew himself up straight and seemed to grow taller. His tiny eyes burned into Shari's.

"I'm so sorry." Dr. Frederick said, his voice a whisper of regret. "So sorry. But I have no choice."

He took another step towards them. Greg and Shari exchanged frightened glances. From where they stood, in front of the low plywood table in the center of the basement, the steps seemed a hundred miles away.

"Wh-what are you going to do?" Greg asked, shouting over a burst of thunder that rattled the basement windows.

"Please! Don't!" Shari begged. Dr. Fredericks moved forward with surprising speed. Holding the camera in one hand, he grabbed Greg's shoulder with the other.

"No! "Greg screamed. "Let go!"

"Let go of him!" Shari screamed before realizing that both of Dr. Frederick's hands were occupied. 'This may be my only chance.'

Shari took a deep breath and lunged forward. Dr. Fredericks' eyes bulged, and he cried out in surprise as Shari grabbed the camera with both hands and pulled it away from him. He made a frantic grab for the camera, and Greg burst free. Before the desperate man could take another step, Shari raised the camera to her eye and pointed the lens at him.

"NO! Don't push the button !" Dr. Frederick shouted. He lurched forward, his eyes wild, and grabbed the camera with both hands. Greg stared in horror as Shari and Dr. Fredericks grappled, both holding onto the camera, each trying desperately to wrestle it away from the other.

FLASH!

The bright burst of light startled them all. Shari grabbed the camera.

"Run!" Shari screamed after grabbing the camera.

The basement became a whirring blur of grays and blacks as Greg hurtled himself toward the stairs. He and Shari ran side by side, slipping over the food cartons and jumping over tin cans and empty bottles. Rain thundered against the windows. The wind howled, pushing against the glass. They could hear Dr. Fredericks' anguished screams behind them.

"Did it take our picture or his?" Shari asked.

"I don't know. Just hurry!" Greg screamed as Dr. Frederick howled like an animal, competing with the rain and wind pushing at the windows. The stairs weren't that far away. But it seemed to take forever to reach them.

Forever.

'Forever.' Greg thought. Dr. Fredericks wanted to keep Shari and him down there forever. Panting loudly, they both reached the dark stairway. A deafening clap of thunder made them stop and turn around. "Huh?"

To his shock, Dr. Fredericks hadn't chased after them. And his anguished cries had stopped. The basement was silent.

"What's going on?" Shari cried breathlessly.

Squinting back into the darkness, it took Greg a while to realize that the dark, rumpled form lying on the floor in front of the worktable was Dr. Fredericks.

"What happened?" Shari cried, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Still clinging to the camera strap, she gaped in surprise at the old man's still body, sprawled on its back on the floor.

"I don't know." Greg replied in a breathless whisper.

Reluctantly, Greg started back towards Dr. Fredericks. Following close behind, Shari uttered a low cry of horror when she clearly saw the fallen man's face. Eyes bulged out, the mouth open in a twisted O of terror, the face stared up at them.

Frozen.

Dead.

Dr. Fredericks was dead.

"What happened?" Shari finally managed to say, swallowing hard, forcing herself to turn away from the ghastly, tortured face.

"I think he died of fright." Greg answered, squeezing her shoulder and not even realizing it.

"Huh? Fright?" Shari asked, confused.

"He knew better than anyone what the camera could do." Greg explained. "When you snapped his picture, I think . . . I think it scared him to death!"

"I only wanted to throw him off-guard." Shari cried. "I only wanted to give us a chance to escape. I didn't think-"

"The picture." Greg interrupted. "Let's see the picture."

Shari raised the camera. The photo was still half - inside the camera. Greg pulled it out with a trembling hand. He held it up so they could both see it.

"Wow." Greg exclaimed quietly. "Wow."

The photo showed Dr. Fredericks lying on the floor, his eyes bulging, his mouth frozen open in horror. It was freight that killed Dr. Frederick. The camera had claimed another victim. This time, forever.

"What do we do now?" Shari asked, staring down at the figure sprawled at their feet.

"First, I'm putting this camera back." Greg said, taking it from her and shoving it back on its shelf. He turned the vise handle, and the door to the secret compartment closed. Greg breathed a sigh of relief. Hiding the dreadful camera away made him feel so much better. "Now, let's go home and call the police."

Two Days Later

It was a cool, bright day with a gentle breeze rustling the trees. The four friends stopped at the curb, leaning on their bikes, and stared up at the Coffman house. Even in bright sunlight, the old trees that surrounded the house covered it in the shade.

"So you didn't tell the police about the camera?" Bird asked, staring up at the dark, empty front window.

"No. They wouldn't believe it." Greg answered. "Besides, the camera should stay locked up forever. Forever! I hope no one ever finds out about it."

"We told the police we ran into the house to get out of the rain." Shari added. "And we said we started to explore while we waited for the storm to blow over. And we found the body in the basement."

"What did Spidey die of?" Michael asked, gazing up at the house.

"The police said it was heart failure." Greg told him. "But we know the truth."

"Wow. I can't believe one old camera could do so much evil." Bird said.

"I believe it." Greg said quietly.

"Let's get out of here." Michael urged. He raised his sneakers to the pedals and started to roll away. "This place really creeps me out."

The other three followed, pedaling away in thoughtful silence. They had turned the corner and were heading up the next block when two figures emerged from the back door of the Coffman house. Joey Ferris and Mickey Ward stepped over the weed-choked lawn onto the driveway.

"Those jerks aren't too bright." Joey said.

"They never even saw us the other day. Never saw us watching them through the basement window." Mickey laughed. "Yeah. They're jerks."

"They couldn't hide this camera from us. No way, man." Joey said as he raised the camera and examined it.

"Take my picture." Mickey said. "Come on. Let's try it out."

"Yeah. Okay." Joey raised the viewfinder to his eye. "Say cheese."

A click. A flash. A whirring sound.

Joey pulled the snapshot from the camera, and both boys eagerly huddled around it, waiting to see what developed.

Real World

"And that's that." Roman said.

"Damn." The others said.

"Wait. I thought you said those boys met their ends from some pumpkin head people?" Yatsuhashi asked.

"They did. The camera brought them somehow. Don't try to understand it. Remember, it's dark arts." Neo answered.

"So all these stories are true and happened." Yang said.

"That's right." Roman said before feeling his scroll ring. Taking it out, he saw that he had received a message and opened it. "Okay. Some workers found Jaune."

"That's great." Pyrrha said.

"Where is he?" Velvet asked.

"In Mistral. They're currently bringing him back here. But it's going to take an hour." Roman answered.

"That's good." Velvet said, sighing in relief.

"But I have to ask. With all the trouble it can cause, shouldn't it be in a secure location and not a mask shop?" Coco asked.

"It was. But it's hard to keep it in one location for various reasons. But that leads me to this. This story wasn't the only major incident. Two more stories follow this that show what the camera can do. And it's best to tell you them." Roman said, opening the book again.

"Plus. It will let us kill some time until Jaune returns. We also need to ask him some questions." Roman added. "Alright. Let's begin with the second story of the camera. Say Cheese and Die-Again!"

Notes:

Next Chapter: Say Cheese and Die—Again!

Following Chapter: Say Cheese and Die Screaming.