https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/
*Click*
The rickety, old, foreclosed house rings eerie as the wind blows and the walls creak. You can hear it from the outside. "Damn", Neal says to himself. "They lost it all, just like me". He raises his camera, steps a few large strides to the right, and takes another shot.
*Click*
"Hey....Hey! What are you doing over there? You can't take pictures here!" A shrill voice calls from the distance. It's getting louder. "There are children here! We protect identities here."
What the fuck. "I don't take pictures of random people, ma'am", Neal replied calmly. How uncanny, for a man to fall victim to identity theft and have some middle-aged woman off the street accuse him of attempting to do the same. It must be more commonplace than he thought, to have someone steal your life from him. Resentment edged into his brain as he remembered the drained bank accounts, the missed rent payments, eviction notices, and enraged phone calls with creditors. Neal Cochran. There was another Neal. After resentment, the woman's worry made him feel not so alone in this world.
"I'm only taking pictures for realtor. I'm a videographer", he lied. He had no job. This was just a hobby and he liked buildings.
