Shutter

By Kevin Lopez

Devastated by the loss of his beloved boyfriend, William Bouford took a chance in trying something new. As fate would have it, a job opportunity in a remote island known as Stationary City presented itself. William took it, as well as Linda Santos, two random people intertwined by their sins. If only it was them. The city itself burdens with se

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin Lopez
• Release date: Jun 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798330235346

Kevin Lopez

Raised in Brazil, and committed to storytelling as a kid, it was a passion that continued to evolve throughout the years. Starting at the age of fifteen, ever since then he's focused on character-driven stories. Poems, short stories, novels, and everything in between. Growing up he always wished to live in worlds only his mind could describe. Unable to find those worlds in real life, he gave them pages, countless words and stories for the world, and not only him, to devour.

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Shutter

Kevin Lopez

Copyright © [Year of First Publication] by [Author or Pen Name]

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

1.SHUTTER

2.KEVIN LOPEZ

3.Chapter 3

4.Act I:

5.Stationary City

6.Chapter 6

7.Chapter 7

8.Chapter 8

9.Chapter 9

10.Chapter 10

11.Chapter 11

12.Chapter 12

13.Chapter 13

14.Chapter 14

15.Act II

16.Sins

17.Chapter 17

18.Chapter 18

19.Chapter 19

20.Chapter 20

21.Chapter 21

22.Act III

23.Truth

24.Chapter 24

25.Chapter 25

26.Chapter 26

27.Chapter 27

28.Act IV

29.Acceptance

30.Chapter 30

31.Chapter 31

32.Chapter 32

33.Chapter 33

34.Chapter 34

35.Chapter 35

36.Chapter 36

37.Chapter 37

38.Chapter 38

39.Chapter 39

40.Chapter 40

SHUTTER

KEVIN LOPEZ

Two years ago…

Sprinting echoed throughout the street. People looked confused at the man who was running. They saw the horror in his face, the fear in his loud panting. People deemed him crazy as he continued to run, now into the woods.

He realized he was lost and all of the light left came from the moon, soon covered up by clouds. Most in the shape of animals. A huge bunny won the highlight. It's smile for a second looked real enough to have teeth. The second animal was a dog, and he barked. Barked at the night and everything it carried under the large blue. They were mocking him.

They were loud and clear, enough to make him sob and coil up, powerless to do anything else.

Crack

Tears continued to soak the grass. The body grew heavy, as it had to carry along with it the burden. Of course, he knew why he was being mocked — he sinned. He deserves it

Crack

In a burst of courage he got up, still hoping for his lover to be there. He needed him more than anything now.

Are you there?! Take me! For christ sake! Spare him! Please!

Crack

Another burst of courage and he was able to flee, although blindly. Branches and twigs were snapping one after another. Eventually, when he did stop, he fell once more. He was in the same place from before. He was running in fucking circles. That was it for him,

Crack

miracles don't happen twice. Finding somebody was his first, he supposes. He's an idiot, a dumb man who made people's lives miserable. Now he pays, he

Crack

dug his hole to fall onto. It was over. And the clouds knew this too. Their grins were larger, going from cheek to cheek. Their eyes were scarlet. They moved flawlessly and among them, was another curious shape. Perhaps because it was the first not to be an animal, and also the only one not to carry ruby eyes.

He seemed human with a pale skinny face, ears pointy in the end like an elf, and a mouth somewhat feminine, nose a little longer than most, and last but foremost, what made him realize the cloud was not of a man's face. The eyes were deep dark. Nothing cut through it, better, the stars were devoured by those black holes. It smiled at him. And as those fine lips opened thunder rumbled. Rain poured consequently and finally, the last snap.

It was too late to run. The killer finally got to him and he was with his lover in his arms. Not dead, yet close to the brink of it. He was next to be taken. So he did what the clouds did; he smiled and let himself be taken.

As the jade eyes were closing to accept defeat another voice roared. Almost as mighty as the thunder itself. It was Lucas.

I love you, Jones.

I love you too—

Before anything else could be said he blacked out. He fainted to the sight of those beautiful eyes. A man whom he cherishes. But behind him lay another face, of something evil, malicious. Behind his twin flame were those dark holes of eyes. He, like Lucas, smiled too.

X

Now…

The city had just awoken from the silence of cars and people crossing from one street to another. Arose had also a young man, still in his striped pajamas made of wool. The warm silk stripped the man of his fears but could not stop the driven thoughts that kept him up.

It's still early. Two AM, precisely. And for him, it's weird to see the city still weak. When he looked through the window he would expect a crowd of people laughing their asses off from something only they’d know, or perhaps a local fight. In big cities like New York, it’s common, especially in the neighborhood the man finds himself. The suburbs as they call it, however, before everything had begun, he wouldn’t be so lonesome. Laying by his side would have been Jones, moreover known as the one.

Every second by his side felt like paradise. The taste of the kiss, the heat of their gentle and tender touch, the embracing in the tight firm; every little detail kept William up.

Up enough for a storm of thoughts to drown him in remorse. The worst thing about it is the fact William couldn’t do a thing. Sickness had reached out to Jones and took him whole, so he believed. Everyone says it was an unfortunate event, which William calls bullcrap. Happiness has never been a good friend of his and he knows it. Not once had he been happy enough to yell his lungs out. There's always something to prove him wrong and that’s why he stopped believing. When he did, Jones showed up. It was two in the morning and the beer had just hit William. Growling in hunger he stopped by a cafe near his house to order a sandwich. That night it rained. It was still vivid; the light drizzle tapping the large windows, blurring and fading people out of frame, not to mention the calm mellow that started to sink in. Peaceful, but lonesome if not for the person that rushed inside. The rain felt heavier as those few seconds became eternity. Just seeing him was enough to nurture the butterflies flapping in his insides. The view by itself was gorgeous, even so, his camera fell from his hands. He couldn't glue his eyes from the man in the window.

It didn't help that he was horrible at hiding it, even so that Jones noticed. What he remembers to be chatter and laughter with a grain of ironic humor ended between sheets. For once he could sleep to wake up with a grin from one cheek to another. It went on from that day forth. One complimented another in every small detail. He would look at his lover with puppy eyes. Happiness took them so rapidly that Will forgot what reality was, for some unforgettable nights that is. Whenever uglier days bestowed them Will would play some slow music to dance to, which they did. Night after night the warmth of their touch became an addiction, a routine. Weeks later Will kneeled and asked the hand of his loved one to be his. Lost in the happiness of belonging to themselves as boyfriends radiant smiles came together.

"Come on Willy, it isn’t such a craaazy idea," Jones said, throwing himself in bed after so long up.

Our place is here, Will spoke still in his feet as he undressed.

To rot in New York? I want to explore new horizons. The world is full of them. Nothing interesting happens around here, Jones persisted.

We live in the city of dreams, Honey. Where art lives and is reborn as something new as we speak! Will went on.

Will’s a bright fella. A tall man with smooth caramel skin and eyes with the same clean beauty an ocean has to offer. Although bald, his cut and shaped beard praise his beautiful plump lips. Jones on the other hand can best be described as your average ginger curled hair man. A beardless face with the curls a woman would envy, especially when shown the jade eyes.

But the prettiest thing in both of them was their ability to live a happy life, no matter how little. Will being a freelance artist; photography, writing, you name it, while Jones was a versatile man. Will would always praise this about him. If offered a job he’ll learn it in a day and give his best the day after. What none of them could expect though came later that same summer. The same night they had their talk on moving.

Will had just undressed his top half when the door rang. He gave a cold look to Jones, but he shrugged and failed to get up. Will dressed back and headed towards the door, still sluggish from the beer. The man on the other side of the door was a fat man with little to no hair, although there was an odd line near the eyebrow. His mustache reminded Will of the cowboy era when it was a symbol of beauty and masculinity to have a mustache as thick as the men back then. Then came the offer which would, later on, change his life.

I’m aware that I may be inconvenient, mister…

William Bouford, William said before it could get any more awkward.

The man smiled and hurried to take out his folder. His hands nervously let the papers fall and fly out. It was a huge mess but Will was fast enough to grab a few. The ones that would matter.

I’ve heard you’re a freelancer. There’s a man that needs a photographer back in his city. He’s willing to pay a good amount. Three months, that’s all. You’ll be given a roof with everything paid for. All you need to worry is about photographing, the chubby man went on.

Where would the city be? he curiously asked as his eyes devoured the papers. He had seen how much the mysterious asker was willing to pay. Never had he seen so much money.

Stationary City. Three months. That’s how long he needs you there. It’s a simple job.

A simple job doesn't give this much money, Will went on, giving the papers back promptly, What’s the catch?

Are you a believer of the supernatural, William? The man said, putting his folder beneath his arms.

Not much of a fan, nor believer, Will said bluntly, There are more important and proven things to be concerned about other than ghosts. Recently there has been a case involving the supernatural. A serial killer. Supposedly there was a cult involved. Lots of deaths. The city may close and the mayor’s concerned. He wants to assemble a team to prove Stationary City is still breathtaking. He saw you on the papers and said the man behind the cameras can’t be another. Ah, by the way, my name’s Uriel, he said, handing out a business card. Think about it. We’ll understand it anyway. You have until the end of the month.

Uriel left soon after. The morning after he and Jones spoke regarding the job. The idea of going to a murder city didn’t sound great either. So it was unanimous, that is, until the day Jones's death hit the news. A week after and here we are, in the beginning. Two in the morning and all Bouford could do was look at the business card. Maybe a new beginning is what he needs, he thought to himself.

The river of thoughts went on and on for what felt like lonesome hours. Beneath the silver of the moon, it seemed to Will as a good idea, but maybe it was his boredom finally reaching the burrows of his skin. He didn’t know what to do for a long time.

Eventually, it got the best of him. Staying in a room had become unbearable. The way Jones died is still a mystery. And to make it all worse, today's his supposed funeral, one which he didn't even get an invite to. A bodiless funeral.

The details are still blurry. When Will came back from a shoot he was already long gone and everybody judged him of a crime he never dared to commit, even in the worst days, or in his nightmares. He loved Jones with all his heart, and God as a witness knows this for a fact. Maybe someday the details will become clear to everyone too, but as of now William’s voice focused on doing one thing only:

This is Bouford. I’m going to accept your offer. Tell the mayor to expect me.

Act I:

Stationary City

Ican sense it,

Crawl and jitter,

Slither and breathe in

It lives

Although no heart it bares;

Although no body it shares

It is cold

Yet lively

It dances and sings

It calls for me

Stationary City! Oh!

What a pleasant tune to plead!I sense you,

Walk and take,

Guide and breathe me in

Chapter 1

Five in the morning and his heart beats loudly, drawing him into the hellish labyrinth he calls a piece of mind, or was it peace of mind? The mere sound of his heart was alarming enough, giving him no space to worry about some old saying. In a few minutes he’d expect a call either from Uriel or the doctors regarding the death of Jones Hennzal. Either call would crawl up his nerves. He had made a mistake calling so damn early and he knew it, yet couldn’t help with everything as it is— chaos, but not in a good way. I’m stupid, he thought to himself slowly weeping back to bed. At the same moment the phone rang. Once, twice, in the third ring Will had created courage to pick up.

It wasn’t neither Uriel or the docs. It was Billy, his childhood friend. A trembled voice spoke.

Hey, I heard about Jones and I know how much he means to you, Billy said.

Will, who had done everything he could to delay his grief, heard every word holding himself to not burst in tears. He urged me to let it all out. Maybe even that wouldn’t save himself from the hole he was digging. The realization of that was starting to dig itself out, bringing along all the fears Will bluntly ignored. His voice finally cracked, losing its deep tone to give place for the sound of a weeping child.

I miss him, so fucking much, so so so much, tears ran down his smooth skin. If I knew, only if I had known.

Are you free? I can talk to my pops and reserve a week or two in the house by Malibu. The beach there is amazing. The whole gang may come too. C’mon, it can be fun, Bill spoke louder.

You know I hate beaches.

What I do know is, you’re grumpy and like almost nothing. Risk new experiences Will, for your own sake. Now, are you coming or what?

Before he could answer his phone vibrated. A message from Uriel and one lost call. The message told him to pack for the trip.

I got a job opportunity in another city for a few months. That’s my risk. I needed something new. Just don’t strip yourself of having fun for my sake.

I don’t even dream of it. Everything was already planned. I just figured you’d come for once. Anyway, where’s the city?

Stationary City, it’s literally a single island from what we could tell. I’ve never heard of it, if you don’t include my mother’s crazy stories, but the money’s good, Will smiled a little.

I think I’ve read about it once. Some paper on an urban legend, either way I’ll take a look for you. Have a safe trip.

Bill was one of the only few to stick alongside him when he found out about his sexuality. The rest got scared of contracting some sickness. Bill however just shrugged and hugged him as tight as he could the first night they met.

Don’t forget to call me once in a while. Be careful too. You never know how the folks are. I really do hope the money’s good, because God, this party will go down in history, history I tell you, Bill exclaimed happily, Even the Gunthor siblings are coming. Are you serious? The rich ones? he asked astounded.

The ones and only.

Once again the phone rang. Another message and missed call.

Thanks for everything Bill. I’ll see you in a few months. The boss is calling.

Don’t forget me!

Will hung up and was surprised a second later. The doorbell was ringing too, not only the phone. On the steps laid a small box. No name whatsoever. It fit in his palms. Weirdly enough it smelled fresh. The tape was badly spread too. An amateur work. The fresh air that came with the box reeked of something he couldn’t grasp. A faun odor with the burden of a million stories, each worse than the last. So strong was it, and such a lover of art as he is, that he gave in. Opening the box rested a small camera with a memory card. No further notes. Only the Nikon silver cubic camera which called out for him. An odd gift. Better than traveling with his broken camera at least.

Just the eerie feeling that came with it that bothered him. Looking at the lens felt like staring into the past. A merciful cold gaze.Will tried shrugging it off, even so it had started to create roots onto the walls of his mind, those which he willingly ignored to go on to pack his bags. He took clothes mostly and the basic for good hygiene. Everything else was past. Every second spent on the small condo reminded him of memories he’d wish to forget. Stationary City has a nice ring to it too. A withered hope to anew. That’s what filled his lungs as he packed the camera, still aloof regarding where the present had come from. Probably Uriel, which would come in a few minutes.

It was already eleven o’clock. That’s what his watch says at least. Will barely slept. His body recognized this and forced him to do too. Every step has the weight of ten. Stupidity, he thought to himself. For a second he allowed himself to believe in the supernatural, this and that. Uriel’s words had gotten to him. Every tick of the pointers poisoned his mind. Nonetheless, he drowned himself even more. Sadness and confusion struggled to see which would possess William. The sadness of losing somebody or the confusion of so many new questions to arise; whichever would be the one, in the end wouldn’t matter, for Will’s very soul was torn apart. Long before the loss. Long before anything.

It’s strange to remember how exactly it came to be, but he knows it started perhaps a few years back, when he was still considered straight by most. Will was about fifteen and still lived under his parents roof on a shady house around the cheapest place they could find. His dad, a failed teacher, River Bouford, had decided back then to teach needy communities. Although it worked, the money to compensate for the hours up late did not. His mother, Glenda Bouford, a historian, for being colored and a woman was denied that which she fought for. In the end, the Bouford family went broke. William, even as a teenager understood the gravity of the scenario. Young Will though preferred to keep a saint image to not worry his parents. Each day after school he would steal his father’s old camera and study photography to get the best shots of his city. Little by little, success came. Everyone knew about the Bouford family. A scholarship came as well, but with a cost. Shortly after his father was diagnosed with an incurable sickness. A flu unlike any other. Maybe swaine, yet none of the doctors were too sure.

Only him and his mother were left, and with the weight of his father upon him, he became a full time freelancer, occupying himself with anything he could so the family could stay under a roof, no matter where. Shortly after, in one of the studios he volunteered to do the photoshoot, he met his best friend Billy and the first guy he ever felt something for, besides Jones, of course. He always had doubts as to why no women interested him, and that day he found out why.

As soon as they both left work they worked out their lips, rocking one against another, both covered in sweat. Will moaned louder and louder, holding tightly the sheets. For once, he felt ecstasy, but also a deep vague hole inside of him. Something unexplainable. He thought it was his father’s one year death anniversary, which had a part in it, but that wasn’t the case at all. No, Will had lost something.

This went on until today. A snowball of delayed emotions. Storms of buried memories and feelings brewing along with the bottles of alcohol and restless nights. The morning after each bottle would take Will down for, maybe, a good whole day, week, month probably. Each bottle a darker memory. However, he was saved by the doorbell again. Thank God it rang. At the same minute he also came upon one other crucial detail: he never replied to Uriel. Nonetheless he waited for him outside the door with a large grin. A weird, large, unsettling grin.

Are you ready Mr.Bouford? he asked in an upbeat tone.

Sure am, especially with the fine camera you sent, he answered as the car doors opened.

Camera? I’m sorry, but I don’t remember doing such a thing.

William thought of taking it in as a joke. Laughed it off for a minute until he realized Uriel was as serious as he could be. He laid back and ignored the awkward tension in the air. Uriel entered and they drove soon after.

Can you tell me more about the city? I didn’t manage to research much about it. I’ve heard my mother speak of a city in the center of the world, but…

Oh, it is, that I can assure you mister Bouford.

Call me Will. No need to be so formal.

Stationary City is considered to be the center due to the colonists. When the city was discovered it was nothing more than an island. Strangely when the white people came back with more boats the city which awaited was a completely different one. Due to that, the city became a landmark for the spiritual. Rather, a cursed landmark. They tried their best to uncover more secrets and failed. Some, like the poet Fergus Addam, say it's the gods’ nest. Others say that when the American people found the city, they had uncovered that which they should never have. Some beast in slumber. Most of history is inaccurate, except for the different island thing.

Maybe they were too tired to give a precise description.

Or maybe the place is special. They say it calls for its victims in strange ways. Nobody chooses to live there.

Is that why people want to shut it down so bad?

I guess so. There’s only two ways to reach the place and by boat is the fastest. The second way would take too long. I hope you don’t get seasick.

I’ve been on a boat. I was going again this summer, but your offer spoke louder.

I see it has a liking to you, Uriel spoke with a shrill laugh. By the way, there’s a person that’ll be accompanying you. She’s already on the boat, but I reckon she’ll show when we arrive. She’s a nonbeliever like you.

Will’s still convinced this is nothing more than superstitious. Often his mother would speak of how each city breathes to tell its own story. Each whisper told by some old-timer, later on passed to another. An infinite chain. A cycle. That’s what history is, land unfolded by the people whom step on it. Culture, customs; everything because of a whisper.

By the way, I'm sorry for not replying earlier. I’m going through a rough patch.

It’s ok, as long as you do your job.

I will.

For the rest of the trip he got quiet. There was nothing else to say. The dull air which aroused through the trip was suffocating. In the end Uriel hadn’t said shit about the city. Nothing relevant. Only fairy tales. The city calls for their victims. Is it possible the city sent the camera? Perhaps, and what a bold claim to make. If William was whole, none