I took a photography class on lighting last year at a nearby community college. I didn’t like the parking lot, as it was always dark when I arrived and darker still by the time I left. The bathroom at the college was scary, too – long rows of doors, deathly silent. We spent our classes in the dark – pitch dark – and as most students were long gone by the time we started, the building always felt abandoned.
Needless to say, due to the above circumstances (and the fact I am a giant pansy), I spent most nights in a very uneasy state.
For our last class, we were all asked to bring in an object, and we took turns photographing our object while it was under a spotlight. An elderly gentleman, who seemed nice but I am now convinced is a serial killer, placed his object on the table.
When I left class that night, I sprinted to my car, positive the puppet was following me and I’d feel its bony little hands on my ankle at any second. I have a very overactive imagination, so trust me when I say my hands were actually shaking a bit, and it took a couple tries to get the key in the lock while looking over my shoulder.*
All in all, it was rather pitiful ending to an interesting class, but at least I can now photograph cigar smoke in the dark using a flashlight. I’ll never be able to look at another puppet, though.
*Ask Dani about this. She occasionally tries to get me to unlock our house faster by pretending to a) see zombies behind us and start shrieking that the only thing that will save us is if I open the door that second or b) be a zombie that is actually attacking (she will bite my coat), and the only way to save myself is to unlock the door as quickly as possible. This never works. The stress of imagining a zombie attack unnerves me and it takes me at least 50x longer to unlock the door than it would have otherwise. I am not to be trusted with the keys during a zombie apocalypse.