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Weekly Contest #345
March of 1846. I hear a knock on the shed that’s been turned into a make-shift darkroom for the time being, but it seems as though I’ve grown to like the hobby I was forced into. I stared up at the man in a nice suit. He had a paper in his hand, but I didn’t need to read it. I knew he needed my submission for the competition. I took a breath and carefully removed three of my best film strips of the twenty on the shelf. I carefully packaged them in a box, most likely lackluster to those of my competitors. The man took the box with a smile. In...
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