Through the Lens of the Unseen

Lorenzo had been walking for hours.

His camera, which usually felt like an extension of himself, hung cold and unused around his neck. He had wandered through streets and alleyways, over bridges and between buildings, waiting—hoping—to see something that would speak to his soul. Something that would stop his breath. Something worthy of the photography contest that had been on his mind for weeks.

But nothing did.

As the sun began its descent into the horizon, bathing the sky in hues of gold and rose, his hope started to waver. His legs were tired, his throat dry, yet something in him refused to give up.

“I’m not going home empty-handed,” he muttered under his breath.

Turning away from the main road, he followed a path he'd never taken before. It curved like a forgotten ribbon through an overgrown field and past a crumbling fence, leading him into what looked like an abandoned park. The iron gate stood slightly ajar, squeaking as he nudged it open with the tip of his boot. Vines curled along the railings, and wildflowers sprouted through the cracks in the pavement.

It was silent.

Too silent.

The trees here bloomed unnaturally, as if untouched by human presence for years. Their blossoms hung like whispers in the air, casting gentle shadows across the mossy ground. The whole place seemed drenched in some long-forgotten peace.

Lorenzo paused, feeling something shift inside him. A hush… a pull. Something was here.

He followed the faint sound of trickling water. A stream, maybe? The soft gurgle led him through a thicket of trees until it opened into a small clearing. There, beside a slow-moving river that reflected the dying sun like molten glass, she stood.

He froze.

She was facing away, her bare feet touching the edge of the water. Her hair cascaded down her back in waves of silver-white, glowing under the sunset like moonlight given form. And her eyes—when she finally turned—were violet. Deep, sorrowful, and almost glowing beneath the golden sky. Eyes that didn’t seem to belong to this world.

Lorenzo’s breath caught.

Without thinking, he raised his camera but didn’t click the shutter. He lowered it slowly and stepped forward.

“Excuse me…” he said, his voice careful, almost reverent. “I—I’m sorry to bother you. But… would you mind if I took your photo?”

The girl blinked. Her gaze remained unreadable as she tilted her head slightly, violet eyes studying him like he was something peculiar.

“I’ve been searching all day for something—someone—to capture,” Lorenzo continued, heart pounding. “You… you’re perfect. I mean—visually. It would only take a moment. Please?”

The girl said nothing. The silence between them stretched painfully long. She seemed... distant, like the wind might carry her away at any second.

Lorenzo took a nervous breath. “I swear I won’t ask for more than a few shots. It’s for a contest. You’d help me more than you could imagine.”

At last, she gave a small nod.

He didn’t understand why that made his chest tighten.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t move much. But when she turned fully toward him, the camera in his hands seemed to rise on its own.

“Alright,” he whispered. “Steady…”

Click.

The moment froze through the lens—the wind brushing her hair like water, her expression both curious and heartbreakingly sad.

Then she spoke. Her voice was soft, almost like it came from far away.

“How can you see me?”

Lorenzo blinked. “What?”

He lowered the camera.

But when he looked up—

She was gone.

Not a sound. Not a rustle of grass. Not even a shadow. The spot where she had stood was empty.

“Wait—hey!” Lorenzo spun around. “Where did you go?!”

His voice echoed through the clearing, but no one answered. He walked to the riverbank where she had been and turned in circles. His heart pounded in his chest. “Are you still here? What’s your name?”

Only the river answered him.

Then, as he stepped back, something crunched beneath his foot.

A small, delicate hairpin lay half-buried in the moss—a silvery thing shaped like a crescent moon, still warm from her presence.

He crouched and picked it up gently, staring at the fine craftsmanship, the shimmer of it in his palm. This wasn’t just an accessory—it was hers.

His hands trembled as he slipped it into his jacket pocket.

Back in his apartment that night, Lorenzo sat on the edge of his bed, the glow of his phone lighting up his face. He had posted the photo hours ago, just before sunset. Now it had exploded across social media.

His notifications buzzed non-stop.

Every comment was about the place.

“Where is this? It looks magical!”

“I need to visit! Please drop the location!”

“This place doesn’t feel real. How did you find it?”

But no one said a word about her.

Lorenzo scrolled, confusion knotting in his stomach.

“Not a single comment about the girl…?” he murmured.

He stared at the image again. She was so there—her eyes almost glowing, hair gleaming like polished snow. How could they not mention her?

He called Zyric.

“Ren! Congrats, man!” Zyric’s voice rang cheerfully on the other end. “Your post is everywhere. That shot is insane!”

“Thanks,” Lorenzo said quietly. “But—Zyric, did you see the girl in the photo?”

There was a pause. “What girl?”

Lorenzo frowned. “The girl by the river. The one I took the photo of.”

“You mean the scenery, right? Dude, the trees? The lighting? That’s some next-level natural beauty—like straight out of a fantasy movie.”

“No, I mean the girl. She was standing right there in the middle of the frame. Violet eyes. White hair. She’s the reason I took the shot.”

Another pause.

“…Are you feeling okay, Ren?”

Lorenzo’s throat dried.

“I—yeah. I just… I’ll call you later.”

He hung up.

His mind reeled.

How can you see me?

The question rang again in his ears, louder this time, sinking deeper. His head ached. His thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm.

He reached into his jacket and took out the hairpin, placing it carefully on his table. It shimmered under the room’s dim light like it didn’t belong here—like it was a fragment of some other world.

Lorenzo stared at it.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

No answer.

He rubbed his temple and stood, heading to the bathroom. Maybe cold water would help. Maybe he just needed sleep. Maybe…

But deep inside, he knew this was no ordinary encounter. Something had changed. Something had awakened.

And he had a feeling—whatever this was, it was just beginning.

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