Bob at round house park

It was a bright October afternoon when Bob decided to stroll through Toronto's Roundhouse Park, a perfect spot for some street photography. The park, nestled between towering modern buildings and the remnants of an industrial past, offered a blend of the old and the new, with its retired locomotives serving as silent monuments to another era.

As Bob wandered around the old trains, taking in the rich textures of rusted iron and weathered paint, he spotted something that immediately caught his attention. Standing on the platform of a deep burgundy train car was a woman, her appearance both haunting and captivating.

She was dressed in an intricate gothic ensemble—a black gown with shimmering accents that resembled the bones of a skeleton. The crown on her head was made of dark, twisted flowers, almost resembling thorny vines that added to her commanding, eerie aura. Her pale face stood out against the deep colours of her outfit, and the long black hair that framed her face gave her a mysterious presence.

Bob couldn't resist. He quickly raised his Sony RX100 and framed her within the rusted iron rails of the train car. She stood still, her hand resting delicately on the rail, as though she were guarding some dark secret within the train behind her.

The light was perfect—the way the sunlight played off the metal of the train and cast soft shadows on her face. Bob adjusted his aperture, focusing on her expression, which seemed both distant and aware, as though she had been expecting him to capture this very moment.

Click.

Bob took the shot. He knew instantly that this photo would tell a story. The juxtaposition of the industrial setting and her gothic appearance gave the scene an almost cinematic quality. She didn’t move, holding her pose for just a few moments longer, allowing Bob to capture another angle. Her faint smile seemed to say, "You’ve got the shot."

As Bob lowered his camera, he nodded in appreciation. The woman gave him a small, knowing smile and turned back toward the train, disappearing into the shadows of the open door. He had his picture, but now, he was left with a lingering question: Was she part of the park's event, or had she, like the train itself, travelled through time to be here?

Bob chuckled to himself and moved on, eager to see what other stories Roundhouse Park had in store. But that image, of the gothic girl standing on the platform of a forgotten train, would remain etched in his mind—and his portfolio—for a long time.