Flash Fictions

A Painting Saga

His fingers glided smoothly on the beautiful painting of a beautiful young woman. His wife had purchased it few months back, but it was only today that he had paid such keen interest to it. He couldn't pin point but the painting looked peculiarly familiar. It was the helplessness and sadness glinting in the woman's eyes which were prominent and dominating the entire aura. He was so absorbed in admiring the art that he didn't feel his wife standing next to him.

" It's made by a painter named as Helen in 19th century. "

He turned around and smiled at her. He made sure to compliment her, " You sure have a deep knowledge of  every paintings and art. You know everything about every painting that exists in the world!"

  She smirked, " Told ya! I can communicate with paintings. "

   She laughed out loud when he rose his left eyebrow, and shrugged it, " What else do you expect from a painter? "

   He Scoffed, " A painter who hasn't drawn even a single portrait? Sure!"

   Ignoring his sarcastic comment, she spoke, " This painting is special."

  " Why so?"

" It was Helen's last painting and it's her self portrait. She knew her husband, Christian was going to kill her because of his mistress. She loved him too much and decided to let him kill her. She just wanted to guilt trip him forever with this sad painting. After adding the last stroke in the painting, she drank the poisoned tea and died. "

  A shudder passed through his spine listening to this sad tale. He was top stunned to speak anything.

  His wife continued, " You keep saying that you've not seen any painting by me? But you're staring at one made by me."

    His face paled listening to her. His heartbeats raced high when a victorious smile graced her lips, "I'm so heartbroken that you don't even recognize your Helen, Christian."