I went down to the old schoolyard, drove past the gate, and parked in the visitors' section of the lot. The brick school building hadn't changed since I first attended there in 1963. The interior must have been updated and converted to accommodate the apartments, although I hadn't seen the inside of the building since it was an elementary school.

I grabbed my camera from the car and walked around the parking lot to the side of the building, where I remembered playing with the other school children. Playing four-square, flipping baseball cards, and spinning tops were popular activities in those days for kids under the age of twelve. I distinctly remembered the exact spot on the side of the school where we used to toss the baseball cards. I pointed the magic camera in its direction and pressed the shutter.

The resulting picture was so realistic it was now beginning to frighten me. There were several children in the photograph. Although the black and white image was a bit fuzzy, I was able to identify one of the kids. It was Jack Foley, one of my friends. Not my best friend, I only saw him at school, but we used to trade baseball cards. He was a Red Sox fan, and I liked the Yankees, but we got along and had fun together.

I loaded the second film pack into the camera and took another photograph. Luckily, the magic was still there, and I happened to get a picture of Sheila Redding, a girl I sort of had a crush on at the time. She was in the background and partly obstructed by another kid, but it was definitely her. That's when it "clicked," a brilliant idea that I would not let go to waste before I ran out of film. I was going to Dallas.

November 22nd was only three days away. I still had time to book a flight and a hotel. I didn't need to pack much more than a few clothes, and, of course, the Polaroid.

On the 22nd, I went to the Dallas County Administration Building, where I visited the Sixth Floor Museum at Dealey Plaza. I faced the window of the southeast corner of the building. I paused for a moment, and it nearly took my breath away. A few minutes later, after I had collected myself, at precisely 12:30 pm, I clicked the shutter.

The wait for the "instant" photograph to develop seemed like the longest two minutes of my life. I nervously held the picture in my clammy hands as I began to sweat. A hundred and twenty seconds later, I peeled the backing off, careful not to damage the photo or get it wet.

The magical character of the pictures that I had previously taken with the camera paled by comparison to the ghastly image that now unveiled itself before my eyes.

Behind a cloud of fog and dust, was the horrific image of Satan himself, holding a Carcano M38.

Story and Cover Illustration Copyright © 2021 by Michael DeFrancesco