There's a short alley way between Magione street and Bacanella street it's always dark and damp no matter the time of day, only the signs outside the shops provide light. Photographers alley is what people called it. There were several studios there that were more than a hundred years old. When I was a child, mother used to take me there to an old photographer, Geppetto, a short, hunchbacked white haired man. I remember he always smelled of garlic, it used to burn my nose. We'd take all our pictures at Geppetto's, which isn't saying much, because we always ever took 1 photo every year.
I hadn't been to the street in years, but I was between jobs and had a lot of time on my hands. On one of my wanderings through the city I found myself at the alley. I wonder if Geppetto's studio was still open. It didn't seem like he had a family. Maybe he handed things over to an apprentice. Then again I don't remember him having apprentices either.
As I made my way down the alley, I realised how creepy it looked. This side, the buildings all looked like they belonged to another era. There were holes in the walls some of which housed bats, crawling vines and owl nests. The bats were squirming around and the owls were looking at me like I was trespassing. The shadows on the vines gave them an eerie feel, like moving hands. How did I miss this as a child?
I made my way to Geppetto's, it was the third studio after the doll makers. The light was on and the sign on the door said open. I entered to find nothing had changed since I was child. The two chairs in the waiting area and the shopkeepers desk were in the same position as I remembered. Even the wall paper was the same. It's like time had stopped. I rang the bell at the desk and looked at the photos on the walls while I waited.
There were photos dating from the 1800's, black and white, sepia toned and coloured ones. This studio must have been here since photography was invented. While I was busy admiring the timeline and history of the pictures, I didn't hear him come in.
"Welcome back child."
I turned around to face, Geppetto. No, this guy looked more like a younger version of Geppetto. But he was dressed as the people in some of the old photos. Weird taste in fashion, but I guess it fits the atmosphere of the studio.
"Hi. I used to come here as child with my mother. I just stopped by to see the place."
"I remember."
"Remember?"
"Would you care to have a portraiture?"
"Sure, why not."
Remember... Geppetto always worked alone whenever we came here. How does this guy remember me. He must have me confused with someone else. I followed him to the studio and sat in the chair as he directed. As I watched him work I realised he fussed about like Geppetto used to, smelled like garlic too. Must be hereditary.
"So are you related to Geppetto?"
"Is it not obvious."
Rude much, at your age you should be more mellow.
"I just don't remember him having family in the studio."
"At the camera."
I smiled at the camera, when the lights flashed I saw something move out the corner of my eye. In the doorway to the clothing closet. I turned to look, but he shouted at me.
"The camera!"
More flashes, and more movement. I tried to steal glances but he kept getting more annoyed with me. Whatever it was it was making me nervous. How much longer do I have to sit here for the portrait. A warm breeze lightly brushed against the back of my neck. To hell with this!
"I've had enough thanks."
I got up and ran out the studio without a backward look. It felt like something was at my back so I kept going until I was out of the alley and on the other side of Bacanella street before I turned around. I swear before the door closed behind me I heard a loud growl and a dragging sound as he shouted at me. Whatever it was, Photographers alley will never see me again.
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