Secret Santa

Secret Santa


She stood there, the photographer, staring at the rose.

She traced her finger around its' petals, going down the stem, and felt the prick, as the
blood, fell in a drop to the floor.

"Ouch" she said. "Thorns are not supposed to do that"

She moved around in her hat and scarf. She was a traveller, moving to and fro around the planet, rarely staying in one place.

Her camera was her only companion, cataloguing her adventures on the way.

She repositioned her rose, facing it towards the camera. She wanted to get the best shot possible. It was the first time she was trying this technique. She had to hurry to just
get this shot -- perfect. Slowly positioning it so it faced forwards, all the bad petals to the back, she wandered over to the red bucket, that she had, just for this shot.

Touching her finger to the water, she made the first drop, on the top petal, then the next and the next, and the next. The drops formed a diagional across the rose.

Quickly, frame after frame, she took the photos, before the drops deformed. A flash of light and an echo of sound filled the room, click after click from her new Canon camera.

Looking through the lens, thinking of Norway, she took the last shot, just as the drops
faded, and there through the lens, looking quietly, she pulled away. Not believing what she was seeing.

"What?" she thought

"What is that?". She studied the photograph carefully.

She looked slowly, at the developing shot, and there, she saw a bright rainbow shining like a crystal at her and a little girl waving hello, there in the middle of the photograph, standing on the petals. She looked backwards and forwards between her rose petals and the shot, because there was no little girl there and certainly no rainbow. She shook her head, not quite understanding – it must be a miracle -- she thought.

The photographer smiled, and kept the picture silent.