Chapter 44 - Young Woman on Her Deathbed
I wake up in a small room that smells of death.
It doesn't take me too long to figure out where the smell is coming from.
There's a girl lying in bed, clearly dead. She's frozen, her eyes empty, and hands stuck in a weird angle.
I am repulsed instantly, and not in a this is gross way, but in a this is wrong, absolutely wrong way.
The girl is dead. It's obvious.
I feel chills all over my body. I'm super uncomfortable. This is not okay. She's just lying there, dead. And he's... painting her?
Because there's a man in the room, with a canvas looking at the woman and painting.
"She's dead," I stated the obvious.
"Yes, she died. Two hours ago," the painter clarifies.
"Why are you paintings this... why..."
"I didn't before. I didn't paint her. So, I shall paint her now."
It's only been two hours, but there's already a smell, a very specific smell that comes with death. And I feel a strange sense of panic, like this is not okay.
I don't know why. I've been to open casket funerals before. I didn't freak out like this.
But this feels different somehow.
"You should cover her, this feels wrong," I tell the man, taking a step closer to her.
"No covering. I loved her and she is dead, so if this is the only way I can keep her than so be it," the man tells me.
Is this the curse's way of telling me that fighting to stay with Gustave, to keep him, a man that is essentially dead in my time, wrong?
Or is this my future somehow?
"At least close her eyes," I press and take another step.
"I said to not touch her!" the man yells and picks up a heavy bookend, smashing it on my head, making me pass out instantly.
YOU ARE READING
Life in Paintings
Horror"I must have hit my head a lot harder than I had anticipated, or maybe breathe too much smoke because this is definitely nut-case crazy. Or a very creepy dream that feels way too real for my own good. I can pat my subconscious on the back for that o...
