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Original

Words: 289

Genre: Superstition

Warning: None

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There's a myth: in a picture of three people, the middle one will die the soonest.

Of course, it's only a legend. Like the folklore Bloody Mary and Abominable Snowman. A ridiculous one at that.

Though for such legend to exist, it makes you question how it came up.

Snap

I lowered the hand holding my mobile phone. Maybe it's because I'm from a younger generation that makes me not bothered by this superstition. Or maybe it's because in my hand is a phone and not a camera.

There's also another legend: that camera captures souls. Maybe this legend is related to the previous one.

I gaze down the picture taken moments ago, fingers belonging to my friends appearing in my field of vision as they point the faults while squabbling with each other.

"Can we take another one? With my camera?" My question ended their squabble, whatever was it about. In my hands: I hold the camera my father had gifted me on my 20th birthday.

I rarely used it, preferring my phone despite bringing it to wherever I go. Maybe because it's the only memory I had of him and it brought me comfort, or it's because I like the heaviness it has on the back of my neck as the rope strap dug my skin.

My friends didn't think twice and nodded along. I wondered if I told them about the myth beforehand, would there be a hint of hesitation?

We had asked a passer-by to take the picture. Hushed suggestions of poses entered my ears as we grouped together closely with me in the middle. So close I could smell a lavender scented perfume.

I smiled for the camera with my biggest smile.

"Cheese!"

Snap 

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First published (on Twitter): 24/8/2019

First posted on Wattpad: 19/4/2020