A Grainy Photograph

• Brianna O'brien, Grade 12, Catherine McAuley High School
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'Read Write Repeat 2015' competition

A grainy photograph.

The product of a hurried flash from a camera of a second-rate photographer, taken during a brief interlude of a rushed timetable. A small favour repaid for a mate-of-a-mate, in return for an instance long forgotten. The most ragged piece of the precious collection of film paper, dipped in chemical in the depth of the night, to be hung to dry in darkness.

Treasured and cherished by its owner. The ‘mate-of-a-mate’ was actually a photographer himself by trade, whose passion was capturing the world’s brilliance and incandescence. However, conscription overlooked any particular talents, goals or dreams; it scraped off individuality and stowed what was left within a standard issue military uniform, tossed the being a pack and ordered it to say goodbyes. The grainy photograph was prized by the conscript, a picture of his existence, captured in the very medium which defined his life.

A treasured, worthless memoir.

It began its life seeing the world from a standard-issue military uniform. It was then passed on with bloodied hands to the equally tarnished ones of a mate, whom would courier it to the tear stained hands of a widow. Now frayed at the edges, ragged in a corner, coated with a thin layer of dust, and fragments of desolated earth.

The grainy photograph would see the light of day for but a month, before it was stowed within a drawer to spare the grief.

It would be revealed by daughter, in enthused family pride, mounted to a place of significance on the main stretch of plasterboard, only to be stripped down and stored in a cupboard by another’s hands.

Revealed again after many years, by a curiosity inspired granddaughter, whom stowed it sacredly in a treasure box.
A treasured possession perhaps, but not as it was.

It passed hands many times like this, transferred back and forth between the asphyxiating must and cool crisp. To be brought out on the spur of inspiration to gain dinner-table fame with the neighbours, only to suddenly depreciate exponentially once its worth dwindled.

Forgotten. Remembered. Neglected once again.
A grainy photograph. A worthless, outdated veteran.

And to most it was. A tarnished scrap, not even having the decency to display an image of quality or interest, having by chance remained intact, after faring the worst the world could provide. Worthless.

But not to some. This was the revelation granted to trembling hands as they reached into the depths. The hands hadn’t known what it would uncover when entering the abandoned home, but they had never expected a priceless historical artefact, a veteran whom had seen and captured the existence of war. Hidden and left to rot in the confines of storage, amongst the worthless collected knick-knacks of the present: A grainy photograph.

It now stands on display to millions, an object of pride within a memorial. Copied onto fliers and banners, drawing in visitors to discover its remarkable story. The story of a treasured, worthless memoir.

The story, of a grainy photograph.