Carl and Angela were brimming with excitement as the deal closed on the historic house that had been on the market for years. They had managed to get it for such a low price, and no one tried to fight them on their offer. It was a beautiful Victorian-style home with a wrap-around porch, endless overgrown flowerbeds, peeling paint, and crooked shutters, but the foundation was strong—which is what attracted them to it the most. Everything else could be fixed, and the inside, although outdated, still held a lot of potential. The smell of dust and must filled their nostrils as they pushed open the front door, the house finally letting out a breath as they stepped inside. Angela twirled around in her Sunday dress, excitedly running from room to room, opening windows to air out the stale smell, while Carl stood in the living room and smiled proudly, so many ideas running through his head as to how he was going to renovate this place into their dream home.
Angela managed to visit every room in the entire house chattering to herself about how she envisioned each room till she reached the attic door. It was old, worn and dusty like it had been overlooked for years. The door appeared to be locked but the key had been left inside the lock as if someone had been in a hurry and forgot to take it with them. With a great amount of effort, she managed to turn it, hearing it scrape and groan against the metal before there was the familiar click of it unlocking. The hinges creaked as she tugged on it, seeing a narrow set of stairs that led upwards, coughing a little from the dust that seemed to fill the air along with the scent of old insulation and something else she could not quite place. She hesitated for a moment but her curiosity got the best of her and she scurried up the stairs till her shoes hit the landing with a small thud, causing the floor boards to creak just a little. “Angela, where are you?” Carl shouted as he walked up the stairs to the second floor looking for her. “ I am in the attic. It was locked but the key had been left behind. You need to come up here.” Carl rubbed his temples because he wanted to unload the truck before it got dark but he knew she would persist until she got her way so he made his way to the attic door and climbed up the stairs.
The attic looked cluttered with random pieces of furniture, a few open boxes, some that look like they were taped up and not been moved in years and in the far corner beneath what seemed to be a very heavy sheet possibly a blanket there was what appeared to be a frame like you would see for a painting. With everything else exposed to the elements why would just one particular piece be so carefully covered. They were lovers of history and art so they were excited about the possibilities that could be under that sheet. They tested the floor carefully to make sure it was solid enough to walk on before they approached it, one of them on either side. “On the count of three,” Carl said. “One, two, three” They grabbed the sheet and pulled it down, letting it fall to the floor. In front of them was the most beautiful painting they had ever seen. It was of their house in the distance with what looked like a garden party in the front of it. There was an abundance of flowers blooming, women in lace dresses with wide brim hats, men in suits and they looked like they were smiling and laughing. “Wow, it is amazing” she whispered, unable to take her eyes off it. Her hand hovered over the dresses of the women, wanting to touch it but afraid she might damage it. Oddly enough the paint looked rather fresh and Carl warned her not to get any closer. “We can take it down stairs and hang it in the living room.”
They both struggled to lift it but finally managed to pick it up and carry it down the steps and another flight of stairs before securing it on a wall in the living room. They stepped back to look at it in light and for a brief moment Carl could swear that he saw a ripple in the painting as if a slight gust of wind had blown through it causing the feathers in the hats to flicker just enough for him to notice then in the next instance there was nothing. “Whats wrong?” she asked as she saw the expression on his face. “Nothing…I guess I am just tired.” He ran his fingers slowly through his hair before pulling himself away from the painting and returning to unloading the rest of the truck before it was too dark to see what he was doing. Angel hummed to herself as she arranged the boxes he brought in, putting them in the room she wanted and finally they set up the bed or at least laid the mattress in the room they would make their bedroom so they could finally get some rest.
It was early the next morning and Carl could not sleep any longer. He wanted to get the day started but he also felt the painting calling to him but not in an obvious way that he could explain. He was being drawn to go look at it again. He stepped into the living room trying not to wake his wife as he gazed upon it with a look of absolute confusion on his face. It was very different from the painting they had hung up the night before. The women who had been laughing and smiling were now standing closer to the edge of the frame and the men who had been scattered across the yard were now in a huddle with their heads turned looking over their shoulders as if they were staring at him. In the middle of the painting was a new figure with her back turned to him, wearing the same Sunday dress that his wife had been wearing,along with the same color and style of hair. Did she get up in the middle of the night and paint herself into the picture as a surprise to him? He rushed up the stairs and into the bedroom expecting her to be sprawled out on the bed under the blankets but all he found was a messy empty bed and Angela was nowhere to be found.”Angela!” He screamed her name running from room to room and even checked the attic but there was nothing.
He nearly tripped over his own feet as he rushed back into the living room and stared at the painting, his mouth hanging open as it began to move in front of him. Not everything moved, not yet it was just the new figure in the picture that from behind looked like his wife. It slowly turned around and looked directly at him, it was his wife and she was smiling. Before he could even speak he heard her voice coming from the painting “It is perfect here Carl.” He felt his body go numb in disbelief watching his wife inside of the painting and now the other figures began to move. The women stepped aside and the men tipped their hats in greeting to him as if it was the most natural thing to do. “Carl there are no bills, no stress, no worries, its just a beautiful day and everything here is wonderful. You need to join us” Carl looked at the painting as panic and horror settled over his features feeling torn between the life they had built and what it was about to become. If he walked away he would lose the love of his life forever and if he tried to destroy the painting he would hurt her and would not be able to forgive himself. Angela moved to the very edge of the painting and raised her right hand up towards him as she whispered”Please Carl, soon the door to the house will close and we will lose each other forever” Those very words were like a knife in his heart because he would not know how to live without her.
With trembling hands he reached out his left hand to the canvas touching the paint where her hand was feeling the warmth that radiated from it as if his skin was feeling the sunlight on it. Bit by bit he would see his flesh becoming more pale and slowly he could see bits of himself slowly disappearing into the painting till there was nothing but darkness. When he opened his eyes he was standing next to his wife inside of the painting, everything was bright and warm, he took her hands into his and kissed her softly before they turned and headed towards the house. Back in the house they left behind there was nothing but silence until footsteps could be heard moving across the living room floor. Someone or something removed the painting from the wall and carried it back to the attic placing it in the corner once more and covering it with the sheet before vanishing.
Conversation
Be the first to join the conversation.