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!

Also, yes, the woman in #10 just has that look on her face. Makes you think she said something vicious just before the camera snapped.

erika, I thought she looked pregnant too... just didn't know how to work it in.

I just love this whole thread. Everyone knows how to turn a phrase just so so that it really hits home. Love it, love it, love it!

I couldn't resist...

Picture 4: Everything is laid out in the next room. After all, every funeral deserves a feast. As we waited for sunset, Alex insisted that he needed a picture of the whole family. Most of us are a little uneasy with photographs, but we hadn't taken a family picture since the little ones came over. I had the girls cleaned up for the picture, but they couldn't resist the spread in the next room. They've always been messy eaters.

The girl chained to the table has cried herself out now, and only whimpers and moans occasionally. Thomas will be with us soon.

Aww, man, Ginger. That is teh creepy.

My take on #10. The momma's getting stomped on with combat boots today, isn't she?

I wish Mama would stop dragging me to these things: Junior League, the Rotary Wives Club Ball. She knows how I hate them. Other girls make me feel so ill-at-ease. Mama says she’s invested too much in me to stop now. First, it was dance and deportment lessons; then, elocution and French. Now, it’s all these damn balls and club meetings. I spend hours getting ready. There’s so many extra things to do: pad my girdle, pad my bra, shave twice so the make-up hides the shadow. Mama, I don’t want to be a girl, I want to date girls.