Reality

My father told me this story that his grandfather shared with him. It’s about an artist who created amazing works of art that caught everyone’s eye. Everyone saw beauty in his art. They would be in museums where all his fans could come and look at his art in person and he would sometimes come to watch him pain in real life. They’d gawk in awe at the way his brushed moves across the canvas. And once the painting was done a lucky person would be able to take the one of a kind masterpiece home with them to have forever. 

 

Some say they saw themselves in those paintings. Especially the eyes. They say eyes are the window to souls. After the museum party everyone would go home and the lucky winner of the painting would go home with their prize in hand. One lucky winner went home with a portrait of herself. She was pleased with the work the artist has done. She came home and her husband asked what she had under the sheet. She revealed a painting of herself. The boyfriend’s face twisted a little. He didn’t look pleased with the painting. 

 

“What’s wrong?’ She asked. “Do you not like it? It’s not wonderful?” 

 

Her husband shook his head. 

 

“It looked unsettling darling. It looks nothing like you.” 

“Why yes it does. It looks just like me and it’ll go in the hallway.” 

 

She smiled as she hung it up. She looked at it with amazement while her husband stayed clear of it. Days and weeks had gone by and her husband grew more concerned with his wife. She looked sickly.  Her skin had become dull, her eyes became dark and her figure small, but she always said she was in good health. But she grew weaker every single day. The husband grew concerned for his wife. He took her to the hospital but they found nothing wrong with her. 

Days had gone by and she had gotten worse. Everytime he found her out of bed she was looking at the painting. Claiming it looked just like her and how beautiful it was. The husband would take her back to bed while she mumbled how beautiful the painting was. 

 

When the husband took her to bed he walked past the painting but stopped. He looked at the painting. It looked nothing like his wife. The painting had dull skin, pale eyes and a sunken face. It looked sickly, like his wife. Tired of looking at the awful painting he decided to take it off the wall and throw it away. The next day his wife had gotten up and she looked better, like she had gone back to her usual form. 

 

She wasn’t friagl anymore and her skin had color and her eyes were bright like before. 

 

“Where’s the painting?” She asked. 

 

He had forgotten that she might have realized the painting was gone. 

 

“I don’t know. Is it not there anymore?” The husband asked playing dumb. 

 

She let it go for a while. They decided to get out of the house and spend the day together. When they got home the husband walked down the hallway but noticed something. Something was off. There was a huge frame on the hallway wall. 

 

“Oh when did you get a painting?” His wife asked. 

She looked at the painting then at her husband. “Looks nothing like you.” She commented before walking away. But it did look like him. From his brown hair to his fair skin and brown eyes. The painting looked just like him. Days and months went by and the husband grew sick just like his wife. He had gotten smaller and lost a lot of weight. But he caught himself looking at the painting all the time, puzzled. The more he got sick the more the painting looked uncanny to him. Weeks went by, the man’s wife left to get him some medicine. Home alone the husband laid in bed and watched tv. While watching tv he heard something, a voice. 

 

Thinking someone was in the house he got up and got the bat from under the bed. He slowly walked out of the room and into the hallway, he was met by nothing. But he still heard a voice. He followed the voice and it stopped at the painting. Confused, he looked at the painting. The painting couldn’t be talking, impossible. But the voice had grown louder and louder with every second. As it talked it became more clear, it was his voice. 

Hours later his wife came home. She found her husband dead on the floor. No one knew what happened to him. 

 

My father said that his grandfather was one of the officers that were called to the scene. The others asked the wife what had happened. He went over to the husband who was on the floor and was covered with a white sheet. He removed the sheet from the face of the man. What he saw scared him. 

 

The man’s skin was paper white, hair was white as snow, his teeth were yellow and sharp and his once brown eyes were pale. He looked over to the painting and it was smiling at him and he swore the eyes on the painting looked at the man on the floor and back at him. He didn’t tell anyone what he had seen.