Whispers in the cold [OPEN]
Dec 12, 2017 15:36:20 GMT
Post by Deleted on Dec 12, 2017 15:36:20 GMT
It was a downright gorgeous winter’s morning. The snow was crisp and not yet turned into mush by cars, bikes and feet and glistened in the pale morning sun. Given that it was a Sunday and also pretty early (on most days Nora wouldn’t even dream of getting up this early), the snow would likely get to stay like this for about another hour.
And so it came that aside from some people walking their dogs, one of the few people outside on this chilly morning, where the temperature was barely above the freezing point, was Nora, armed with her camera and several additional attributes, all neatly tucked away in their rightful padded bags.
A morning of enthusiastic photography was what followed. There was something almost fairytale-like about the way the city was covered in a snowy blanket.
It didn’t last too long, of course. Slowly but surely, Chicago woke up. Thankfully, at the same time it started snowing again, ever so lightly.
A morning of enthusiastic photography was what followed. There was something almost fairytale-like about the way the city was covered in a snowy blanket.
It didn’t last too long, of course. Slowly but surely, Chicago woke up. Thankfully, at the same time it started snowing again, ever so lightly.
By the time things got crowded in the streets, Nora had taken enough photo’s to spend at least another sunday sorting and editing, most likely. Though of course, many would probably go straight to the trash bin, but that was what a 128 GB SD card was for. It had been expensive, yes, but boy was it amazing when you wanted to just shoot away without having to worry about freeing up space. To think she used to be satisfied with 16 GB back in the day.
Around ten she’d made her way to an abandoned church in West Town, the St. Boniface church. While time had eaten away at the building, the inside of it’s chapel was still a sight to behold. With the reckless abandon of someone who’d never really gotten in trouble in abandoned buildings, she set foot inside and took out her camera again, documenting everything of interest, trying to capture the sunrays that reflected on dust particles in the air as they fell through the windows, the remains of frescos and the graffiti that now overlayed them in what one could consider a new sort of fresco, a blend between the old and the new.
It wasn’t until she was carefully putting everything back - both camera batteries had run out by now - while hunched in one of the smaller rooms of the church, that she heard muffled voices and footsteps. For a moment she held her breath, then she quickly finished packing, pulled out her phone and pressed herself up against the wall right next to the door, so she wouldn’t be seen from the hallway. The phone didn’t come close to her camera, but the best camera was the camera you had on you, as they said, and with the expensive one being out of energy, the phone was the only thing she could record something with should she feel the need to.
Her heart raced, but in a good way. This was exciting. The sounds were definitely coming her way, likely originating from the hallway the room she was in led to, but she couldn’t quite make out what they were saying yet. their tone was hushed, however, and at least one of them sounded agitated, further piquing her curiosity.
