The Geek Movement

That morning, when she went out to the woodshed, there was a row of shining wet footprints glistening on the hard packed floor. The shed was cold…cold enough to cause her breath to steam in the air before her, and the top layer of wood on the pile was frosted over. She’d only been keeping house for the Beaumont family for a week, and although nothing untoward had happened in that time she felt vaguely discomfited with each passing day. The bare footprints and the frigid woodshed put her in mind of the stories her grandmam had told her; stories of loa and ghosts and all sorts of other nonsense which had seemed like fanciful imagination. Suddenly they did not seem so farfetched. Rubbing her arms against the unnatural cold she set about collecting enough dry wood to fuel the kitchen stove. Behind her, the door to the shed creaked open. She turned hurriedly to find the elder Beaumont looming in the doorway. “Did you know some people believe a camera will capture their soul?” he asked, raising a leather clad box and pointing it at her. The last noise she heard was the faint click and snap of the shutter. “Fancy that.” he smiled, reflected in her empty eyes.