BTW, the "duh, I thought YOU were going to do something" scenario you all are describing is called the Bystander Effect. The more bystanders there are, the lower each bystander feels is his/her responsibility.

Yeah, Brawley. Brain fart.

For Photo #10

Bloodstains

It wasn't malice. Kathy wanted her wedding held in the little church in Kew Gardens. She wouldn't take no, and Tony backed her up, the way he always did, so the wedding was in Queens.

My mother hated it. She had good reasons to hate it, remembering that night, the Genovese girl screaming outside, my mother pulling down the shade, staying clear.

Ghosts.

She nearly refused to come to the wedding, but of course she was afraid people would talk.

Where we're standing? Right where Kitty died. I wonder if my mother sees invisible bloodstains, on her shoes, on her hands?

BTW, the "duh, I thought YOU were going to do something" scenario you all are describing is called the Bystander Effect. The more bystanders there are, the lower each bystander feels is his/her responsibility.

The same picture Deb used, here: [link] I don’t know who my mother thinks she’s fooling with that dye job...nobody’s hair is really platinum. And her smile’s so fake, like I don’t know she’s Been Crying Her Eyes Out for weeks. She cries and I puke cause I’m knocked up....I would’ve married Bobby anyways, probably, but it’s not been...what-do-you-call it a glamorous engagement. But I’m not showing yet, at least. We love each other, right? Smart girls have babies too, right? Maybe Ma will make a good nonna after all. Congratulations to me.

Whoa.

erika, that one - dudesse, yep. Fake stiff smile, let the viewer figure out whether it's smug, or terrified, or psychotic, or conscience-stricken.

Or of course, in the two-parter Amy wrote? In complete denial.

The young girl is trying so hard to look like she's Okay, but she's freaked, I can tell. There are probably photos of me like that.

The poor woman in that photo is being completely skewered, isn't she?

I wrote the two-parter because, at first, the girl in Photo 10 looked like the little one in the tutu, and when I checked, the same person had contributed both photos, so I'm pretty sure it *is* her, about fourteen years later. Weird.

erika, I loved yours.

Sail, the one you did for Photo 5 rocked hard -- razor sharp.

Tep, your was perfect -- the "constant trickle of fruity drinks" and the sense of bittersweet nostalgia. Lovely.

And welcome, Aillean! You drabble beautifully. Hope you're sticking around.

I don't think she's a horrible person, just that she and the girl are probably nsm getting along. There are photos of my mom and my grandfather like that...probably make some murderous drabbles, but grandma was an obsessive shutterbug and caught them in mid-fight many times.

Thanks for the nice comments everyone! I'm glad that I finally got the nerve to contribute... it's nice to have an outlet. :)

I've got one more, for Picture Five:

It started with a book. Stefan read “On the Road” (translated because his English was terrible) and swore that he “finally got it.” He and Fred would sit on that wall for hours, talking their nonsense. Fred wrote poetry, and it made no sense (and I never thought it terribly profound) but we snapped and fawned. Smoked too much and acted old, and though I never felt edgy or modern, I was happy with my friends. We were closest that summer, our summer of Beat. I still wonder if Ginsburg thought Kerouac was a nut, but just liked to listen.

and, because everyone gets one... omgdeblikedwhatiwrotefangirlsquee!!1!1!