Stepping outside, I was extra careful not to make a sound, I had been strictly forbade not to step foot outside the camp during the night. My photos would look beautiful In the midnight sun. My desire pulled me out into the street where I vowed to be very cautious.
I pulled my jacket up over my shoulder, covering my tribal tattoo that reached from my shoulder blade down to my hand and wrapped around my middle finger. My nails were painted a bright silver, from a bottle of nail polish I found in the basement of our camp.
The earth crunched under my feet as I took slow steps forward and out across the street; making distance between me and my safety. I allowed my breathing to slow and I felt my camera in my back pocket of my jeans. I took a few pictures of the black horizon, the landscape was dead and it was all I could do in the night to make it look alive.