ELA Component

Danger

Not exactly a typical way to spend a birthday, Damien thought to himself. His eyes reflected the deep red light given off by the safelights lining the walls of the darkroom as he hunched over on one of the long tables at the center of the room, his thick eyebrows furrowed with concentration. A gray pair of gloves tightly hugged his fingers as they moved steadily and gently across something hidden by his tall shadow.

As he moved away from his workstation, the object came into clearer view. It was a light brown wooden box, though the red light made it seem more orange, the size of a mailbox. The number of it’s exact age was blurry, but it could be told that the box was built well past modern times. While it seemed quite ordinary to inexperienced eyes, Damien, as an experienced photographer, knew that it was the exact opposite. After all, if it didn’t hold such value and excitement for him, he wouldn’t be spending his twenty first birthday working in his usual studio when he could be out celebrating instead.

Kíndynos knows me so well, Damien thought of his recently made acquaintance , for someone who I don’t know much about at all. The box was a gift from him to Damien for his birthday. He hadn’t been expecting even a birthday wish from Kíndynos. Damien couldn't recall ever telling him the date of his birth; the manner in which he had found out about it was a mystery. It was a strange act of kindness, for which the motive was unknown to Damien. While he had thought about the oddness of it all at first, he had dismissed all his suspicions immediately after unwrapping the present and finding out what is contained.

A pinhole camera from an unknown time, perhaps even one of the first of it’s kind. The device was invented centuries ago, most probably in 1000 AD. It was rather simple, for something with the potential of producing such magnificent images. It used the rectilinear propagation of light, which was the fact that light traveled in a straight line to expose photons (particles of light) onto a photographic paper or film, which later needed to be developed for the picture to be brought out.

From the looks of it, Damien inferred that the camera had been left untouched for a long time, still tightly sealed and blocking light from the outside, saving any film or paper that may have been inside of it from getting ruined by being exposed to light which would have caused the image to come out blank. The chances that there was a picture still in there weren’t low.

Damien walked back to the table with large steps, carrying two bottles and two processing trays in his arms. He set them next to the box, and slowly opened the lid. What he found inside made his heart jump. He was greeted by the sight of an old paper held by strings on its corners under the lid, waiting to be developed to produce a negative image. He was eager to find out what it would display.

He poured generous amounts of liquid from the bottles he had brought with him into separate trays. One of them held the developer and the other the fixer. Damien then pulled away the paper from the box with tongs as to not stain it with his fingers and placed it into the first tray holding the developer. The developer had the function of converting the Silver ions in the photographic paper into Silver in order to produce a negative image. He then moved the picture into the other tray holding the fixer after a few minutes. The fixer, which was an acid base solution, acted to hold the chemical reaction that had taken place in the developer bath. He restlessly waited to find out what the paper would show. The seconds that ticked by only added to his impatience.

After the chemical had finished “holding” the image, Damien pulled it out of the tray and brought it up to the cord above the table, hanging the paper to it using clips. He then walked to a light switch and turned on the white lights in order to better see the picture, turning off the red ones.

He jogged back to the table, and squinted his eyes to see the unclear image. It’s contents surprised him. He found a reflection of himself standing in the picture, the surroundings in it an old room with irregular stone walls. Contrasting the reality, the Damien in the picture was also wearing armor and his shoulders were covered with a cape, the color of which could not be told as the picture was black and white.

What is this? Damien asked himself Maybe I need my glasses. With a vision almost perfect, it was rare for him to ever have to use them. Still, he reached into a pocket of his pants and pulled out the thin case, taking out a black frame and setting in front if his eyes.

He stared into the image, his own eyes staring back from it. The glasses seemed to have made no difference. Everything looked the same as before, but Damien examined it farther just in case.

Suddenly, he spotted a large shadow behind himself on the photo. It slowly darkened to show a terrifying bull’s head. After a few seconds, the picture cleared more, displaying a horrifying creature with the animal head and a man’s body.

Shaken, Damien gulped and moved away.

He took off his glasses and folded them, replacing them into the case. He then turned around and prepared to leave the room, to leave behind the strange image to look at later. However, what followed would make it extremely difficult to do so.

Blocking the room’s only exit stood the beast he had seen in the picture. He recognized it from a Greek Mythology textbook, though he couldn’t place it’s name. Damien’s heart raced, wanting to escape his body and flee the scene in front of him; his legs stopped functioning as they used to, stiff and glued to the floor.

The monster in front of Damien roared, ready to charge, its tail sweeping across the floor.

“Not now, patience,” a voice to Damien’s right spoke. He turned his head to look at who had produced it.

Kíndynos. The man who had given Damien the camera.

The monster roared at him in response, angry that he was not allowed to consume Damien’s flesh.

“What’s going on?” Damien asked Kíndynos, “What is that thing?” Damien secretly hoped that he was having a nightmare, though it all felt too real to be something his imagination had created.

“‘That thing’ is Minotaur,” Kíndynos replied, “And show some respect towards him. He’s a lot more valuable than you.”

“What? Minotaur? You mean from that stupid old myth?”

“It’s not a myth. More of a series of historical events,” Kíndynos said seriously.

“Right, off course it is,” Damien said, half believing Kíndynos’s words because of his humorless tone.

“Your ignorance disgusts me. Before you die, I’d like you to know a little more about yourself,” he waited for Damien to reply, when he didn’t, he continued speaking, “This will seem very unreal to you, but I ask you to believe me. You, a common, easily replaceable photographer, are related to the so-called hero Theseus himself.”

“Theseus? The one who killed Minotaur?”

“As you can see,” Kíndynos said, waving his arms towards the beast, “He is as alive as ever. Monsters never truly die.”

“I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Chose to believe whatever you wish to. It doesn’t matter to me, but I’d prefer if you died knowing who you are. Now that you know, there’s nothing stopping me from letting him kill you,” he turned to the monster, “You can-”

“-Wait, you control this thing?” Damien asked, wishing to buy himself more time.

“Yes, obviously,” Kíndynos said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“How?”

“What do mean, how?”

“How did you get control over him?” Damien said.

“I revived him, because of which he now belongs to me.”

“Why do you want to kill me?”

“I couldn’t care less about you. Minotaur, however, wishes for revenge because of what Theseus did to him in his last life,” Kíndynos replied, “Any other idiotic questions?”

“Why did you give me the camera?” Damien wondered, “Couldn’t Minotaur just have killed me without having me looking at the weird photo shopped picture of myself?”

“The camera?” a look of confusion fell upon Kíndynos’s face, “What camera?” Now, it was his turn to ask the questions.

“The pinhole camera you gave to me as a birthday present.”

“What? Birthday present?” he seemed amused by the idea, “When?”

“Today morning,” Damien said.

“I seriously have no idea what you’re referring to.”

Damien wondered if Kíndynos was toying with him. It didn’t feel like he was. He reached behind himself and retrieved the box. “This is it, remember?” he said, showing it to Kíndynos.

“That’s a camera?” Kíndynos asked, staring blankly at the device.

“Well, you should know, shouldn’t you. You are the one who gave it to me.”

“I didn’t give you anything,” Kíndynos said.

“Right.”

“I really did not.”

“Kíndynos, I am-”

“-Wait, you speak Greek?” Kíndynos interrupted Damien.

“No,” Damien said slowly.

“Then why did you just say κίνδυνος (kíndynos)?”

“Because that’s your name? Kíndynos, are you OK? Is this supposed to be a prank or something?” Damien considered the chance. If it was just a joke, it would all make sense. More sense than the fact that he supposed to be related to Theseus and was about to be killed by a mythical monster.

“My name is not Kíndynos. It’s Loks” he said quietly, “Kíndynos means danger in Greek.” He gulped, unease spread across his face. “Let me see that picture.” Without waiting for Damien to reply, he reached across from him and snatched the photograph from the cord. It’s sight drained the color from his face.

“Theseus,” he looked at Damien, “Such strong resemblance.”

“What?”

“Show yourself,” Loks shouted to no one in particular in the room. After nothing seemed to change, he said “He’s not here then.” Loks turned to Damien, “You’re even more ignorant than I thought, aren’t you? Theseus, or his ghost at least, is the one who gave you the camera. The picture isn’t of yourself. It’s of Theseus. He reached out to you in my form, since his real, identical to you, self would have been dangerous. The name, Kíndynos, must have been to warn you of danger.”

“Danger? From you?”

“Most probably. And from him,” he turned towards the Minotaur, “You can do what you want now.”

Minotaur, upon Loks’s words, sounded a blood-chilling roar, the noise wanting to make Damien curl up on the floor. Fury and revenged marked the beast’s eyes as he prepared to throw himself onto Damien.

At that moment, a long black bag dropped at Damien’s feet from above. Confused, he reached down to pick it up. After opening the draw string, he pulled out the metal object inside.

It was a sword. On its hilt, were a series of strange symbols or letters, none of which made any sense to Damien.

Loks cursed under his breath. To Minotaur, he said “It’s not safe here, we need to leave.” He went to Minotaur and reached for the door behind him, swinging it open. He exited the room and called for the monster to follow. Minotaur refused to move, greedy at the sight of Damien.

“Come one, Theseaus is here. It’s not safe,” Loks said. When the half-man still didn’t follow, Loks continued, “I own you, you have to do as I say. I can’t have you dying here because of an old grudge. Come on.”

Minotaur looked away from Damien and to Loks, said, “No one owns me but myself, especially not a coward like yourself,” his voice was too deep to be human, too croaky to seem natural, “The opposite is true, in fact. Leave me. If I am to die again, then so be it. I am not going to run away.”

Loks, shaking with fear, did just as the monster had told him to. He turned and left the room quickly, eager to get away from the probable presence of Theseus.

Damien raised the sword, switching hands to find out which side felt more natural, though his efforts were in vain. His arms shook with effort under the heavy load of the metal. The sword left his hands and clanged to the floor. He made no move to retrieve it.

Minotaur looked at his pathetic opponent and almost felt sorry for him. Damien thought, for a second, that he wasn’t going to attack. Then, shaking off the feeling of slight sympathy, Minotaur charged.

All of a sudden, Damien felt a cool sensation spread across him. He bent down to pick up the sword off of the floor faster than he thought he could move. The material now felt paper-light, his newfound strength helping him tremendously. He stuck out the blade in front of him. He didn’t have enough time to move it before the half-bull reached him, but it turned out that he didn’t have to.

Taken by surprise, Minotaur wasn’t quick enough to register what was happening. The sword that he had run into sunk deep into his stomach. Damien pulled it out of him with ease. Dark red gushed out of the torn arteries inside him; a waterfall of blood struck the floor, splashing across everything in the darkroom.

Damien sunk down to his knees in front of the defeated creature, feeling defeated himself. The cool feeling he had experienced earlier left him. Spatters of blood dotted his face as he set the sword down beside himself. He had never intentionally killed anyone before, not excluding insects, so the shock of it all bore down on him.

Minotaur’s body, a mixture of two species, weakened as life poured out of him. Not long thereafter, Minotaur fell again, for the second time, slain by the blade of Theseus.