Ting! Tom's messenger suddenly sounded.
As he checked to see it, he saw Ronnie's name and immediately opened the chat box.
Ronnie: Musta?
Arnie told us.
Are you alright?
Tom smiled, happy to know his friend was concerned.
Tom: Yes.
Just scratches
Though Arnie's hand got sprained
Ronnie: I hope it will heal soon
What happened there?
Tom: Got crashed into someone
She was real
Ronnie: She?
Tom: A woman ran across, and it was too late for me to stop
Ronnie: Arnie said that there was no one there
Tom: That is what I wanted to believe
Look, man, something is not right
Ronnie: Huh?
Tom: Papa took the motorcycle to the repair shop, and he called me
Telling me that there were human matters on the motorcycle's surface
Ronnie: Is that a joke?
Tom: Why would I joke about it?
I could not understand it either!
Ronnie: What did you see?
Was there someone?
Tom: Yes
A woman
Clear as you and me
Ronnie: Why did you not see her after?
Tom: I do not know, man!
The moment we got up
She's gone
Ronnie: Ghost?
Tom: I do not know
The messages paused for a while.
It was silent.
Tom had no plan on telling more, sensing that his friend might think he was making things up or just plain dumb. But he knew what he saw. The girl who ran across was as clear as he was. It was no ghost!
He got frustrated, even regretting sharing it. Yet, it will be too late to retract since Arnie already told them her side of the story.
"Argh!" Tom growled, irritated as he realized he sounded like an idiot when he scanned back his replies. "What the fuck was I talking about?"
As he was about to exit the application, Tom remembered something. "Wait—" He uttered as he typed his message to Ronnie.
Tom: Yo!
Ronnie: Oi?
Tom: Look, man
I know I sound like a moron with my story
But I remember this photo my papa sent me
Tom then sent a picture to him. As Ronnie opened it, the hair on his arms stood. "What the—" He exclaimed.
The photo was like from a slasher movie: a long black hair crisped from the dried blood that ornated every inch of it. Ronnie could not stop staring, even noticing the wet blood lingering on the ends of the strands.
Ronnie: The fuck!
Tom: My father saw this on my wheel
He wondered if I was hiding something
He even threatened me if I did not tell him the truth
Ronnie: So
Did you kill the girl?
Tom: Again
I swore I saw her
But she was not there
Ronnie: Damn!
I am not religious
Nor a solid believer in such things
But be careful, man
That is strange
Tom: I know
Ronnie: Did you ask Allan?
He's superstitious
Tom: Not yet
I have no intention to tell him
And the others
But maybe, I will ask him when we see
Each other
Ronnie: Okay
Thanks for the photo, by the way
Now I'll be having nightmares
Maybe I can ask Minka about this
She's smart and a practicing witch
Tom: Alright
As soon as their chat ended, Tom returned to his quiet moment—internalizing the photo he had just sent. More questions swarmed his mind, causing the line of possible answers to grow thinner. The image was truly haunting. It is a scene perfect for documentaries centering on criminals or accidents.
Tom did not answer his father's inquiries. Instead, after receiving the photo, he only felt nothing but chills and stiffness.
"Ugh!" Tom exhaled. "What the hell is happening?" Wondering more as he dropped his head back to the table.
YOU ARE READING
The Portrait
Mystère / ThrillerShe is only from a dream... Created by brush strokes and paints... But how come she now walked amongst us? She was not supposed to be real.
