Tag Archives: camera

Frampton Jones pays tribute to Gregg McNeill

Many years ago, Gregg McNeill saved my life. It is with great sorrow, then, that I must report upon his death, and the probable connection with my own terrible experiences. Those of you who have lived on the island for some years, will remember that I went rather awkwardly mad.

There was that business with the beautiful baby competition, and all that followed. I became convinced that my camera showed me true reality, while what I saw with my own eyes was nothing but illusion. The camera showed me horrors, and things I shudder to recall and will not describe. I came to believe in the truth of my camera, and would not relinquish it.

Gregg McNeill sat with me as I raved, and calmly explained the technical details of cameras to me until I was persuaded to relinquish my grip on the device and hand it to him for repair. My recovery began at that moment, and I have no doubt I would have done myself some terrible harm, had I been allowed to continue. I did not ask what became of the camera, thereafter.

Gregg himself appeared to live a normal enough life, with no more fits of mild and temporary insanity than is normal for those of us who live here. I recall with some fondness the night he climbed onto his roof and refused to come down because of the way the chickens had been looking at him. There was the time he became convinced that the sea creature he had eaten had in fact eaten him – but these things pass in their own way. Who amongst us has not done something of that ilk at one time or another?

Only after his unexplained demise have I come to realise the full extent of the horror that possessed him. Despite what he claimed at the time, he never did destroy that camera, but continued to take photographic likenesses with it, and to develop them. A room in his house was devoted to the images – strange, uncanny things that they are. Faces unknown to me peer back from the walls. Eerily attired, sometimes inhuman – somehow he has drawn these beings from beyond the veil, or through the void and captured them.

The last image Gregg made was of himself, gazing mournfully at the camera. I have no idea how he achieved this self-likeness. I took it home, along with the cursed device, which I will keep safely and make sure no one ever uses again. No matter how tempted I may feel. Gregg stares at me from my mantelpiece. Sometimes I feel that he is trying to speak to me, but I do not know what he is trying to say.

 

You can find out more about the beautiful babies here – https://hopelessvendetta.wordpress.com/2010/03/05/what-beautiful-babies/

And you can find out more about Gregg NcNeill’s Dark Box Photography here – https://www.darkboximages.com/

To get involved with the Hopeless Maine kickstarter – source of all the carnage – throw your non-corporeal self this way – https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/countrostov/tales-of-hopeless-maine

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Back at the press

(from Frampton Jones) I can only apologise for the abysmal quality of last week’s Vendetta. Apparently they had to tie me to a chair. It has been most embarrassing, but I have since been able to educate my nephew in the correct use of the press! Doc Willoughby says that I can start going out again now. They have taken away my old camera and smashed it up. I regret this. I feel there were mysteries I was close to solving, and now that knowledge is lost.

What the Camera Sees

As several people pointed out to me, last week’s picture was odd. There is something growing on my camera. This week I can only offer you an image of that. I have no idea what it is, or how it got there, much less how to remove it without damaging the delicate equipment. Viewed from the outside, my camera appears perfectly normal, however, pictures taken with it look like this. Sometimes the fauna (or is it flora) moves when I look through the lens at it.

I assume they must be very small, and inside the camera. Peering in creates an impression of vastness, as though the imagine shows another place or time. It is most unsettling. If I watch for too long, it seems as though they become aware of me, and able to see me. I feel I should not look, but morbid fascination draws me back repeatedly.