Shadows of the Past

Jamison bent over the bench; his face set determinedly. He had to succeed this time. He just had to. Images flitted behind his tired eyes. Images of his daughter laying on the hospital bed bravely. Jamison tried to push the thoughts away. He couldn’t afford to break down in grief again. But the thoughts pressed into his consciousness, and the grief still accompanying him made him want to vomit. Today would have been Emily’s twenty-sixth birthday. Jamison felt tears blurring his vision, and his hands trembled. After twenty years, he still remembered his daughter’s bright eyes, her joyful smile and daring attitude. Then his memories shifted to her still form. Blank eyes. Jamison began to tremble. His hands retreated from the desk. He attempted to manage his breathing, which was coming in gasps. At last, he let out a long, mournful scream. He sank back against his chair to rest until he could recover. A knock came at the door, and Jamison called in a weak voice, “Come in.”

In walked Jamison’s wife, Bethany.

“Jamison,” she said softly. “Are you alright?”

“No,” he whispered, memories of Emily still attacking his mind. “I can’t focus. All I can think about is Emily.”

“Maybe you should rest.”

“I can’t,” Jamison choked. “Not really. I can never rest until this problem is solved.”

“Jamison, I know you had a better bond with Emily than anyone,” Bethany whispered. “But you need to take care of yourself.”

“Bethany, Emily’s death is why I have to do this! If I don’t, think how many other children will die. People in general. Emily inspired this. I need to solve the problem as quickly as possible,” he moaned.

“And a good rest will help. You have a brilliant mind, Jamison. But sleep will get this done faster than exhaustion.”

Jamison looked up and managed a weak smile at his wife. She looked just like Emily. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He stood.

“You’re right, as usual, Bethany,” he admitted.


Jamison woke in the middle of the night, troubled. He thought he heard a voice whispering in his ear. A child’s voice, so quiet he couldn’t hear a word she said. But he recognized the voice, and he trembled in fear. Jamison turned a lamp on and looked around, seeing nothing but his room.

“Turn the light off,” Bethany muttered sleepily, groping with her hand.

Jamison turned it off for her, but his heart was still thumping in his chest. After sitting in silence for a moment, Jamison threw off the covers and shouted out loud, “I’ve got it!”

Bethany bolted upright and grunted, “Wha-what? You got what?”

“The answer to our problem!”

Jamison rushed out of the bedroom without another word.

“Jamison!” Bethany cried, sounding a bit afraid. “It’s the middle of the night!”

Jamison flew into his workshop excitedly. After working until dawn, Jamison emerged from his workshop holding a seemingly normal camera. Bethany stood waiting in the hallway. Her eyes widened.

“You finished it?” she asked. He nodded.

“I still need to test it, of course,” he admitted. “We’ll drive over to the hospital as soon as possible.”

“I’ve barely slept a wink, Jamison. I’m exhausted. But I’ll come along anyway.”


The trip to the hospital revealed only a couple bugs with Jamison’s camera. He took pictures of different patients—with their consent, of course—and in the end was satisfied with the result.

“I’ll work on it a bit more, but I think I’ve finally got it!” Jamison said exuberantly on their way home. He stared down at the camera. “The cancer-detecting camera.”

He could almost see Emily laughing.

“Thank you, dada,” he thought he heard her voice say. Tears welled up in his eyes. He couldn’t save Emily, but he could save others. The camera, when finished, would allow doctors to detect cancer before symptoms even began to show.