MyniQ [ /ˈmaɪ-nɪk/ ]

Echoes of Shutter

generated at 2025-11-27

The last camera store in a world without memories stood like a tombstone, its windows cracked but still holding fragments of the past. I, an ex-photographer turned scavenger, had discovered it among the ruins of what was once known as Manny's Photo Studio.

Inside, dusty equipment lay scattered across broken floors. Tripods and lenses collected like artifacts in a museum of forgotten art. The air was thick with memories of flash bulbs and retouched faces – all lost to the apocalypse that had erased humanity's visual history.

In my worn leather satchel, I carried what remained of the art form: a single exposed roll of film, partially developed in my makeshift darkroom. Each grain told a story no longer possible to tell without the tools of yesterday. Perhaps someday, if someone else found these remnants, they could see through them and understand what was lost.

Now I wander the desolate landscape with nothing but this memory box – searching for signs that others might still remember to preserve their stories in light and shadow, before all images fade like footprints in sand.

(Word Count: 182)