A Day In A Frame

Abby was frequently the new kid at school because of her parents' jobs.  She had moved eight times in the past twelve years.  Abby was a tall brunette with Ray Ban frames, going into freshman year of high school.  This time, both of her parents had gotten jobs as English and Chemistry professors at the local community college.  

Their new house was an old stone house, dating back to the early nineteenth century.  Abby had just come home from her new school, Riverford High, with a ton of homework-- luckily it was a Friday.  She could do that later.  Abby was eager to move into her new bedroom so she took her boxes from the spacious entry way upstairs.

Many of their new neighbors, that had welcomed Abby and her family, said that the house was known for its beautiful and very life-like paintings.  The old house had been vacant for about fifty years.  Next door there was a boy named Mark who was in the same class as Abby.  Mark was a nerd with short wavy brown hair, was of medium height, and was able to hear what people were thinking.  He lived with his grandmother.

"Sometimes I see lights in the attic," said Mark "Seriously" as Abby looked at him in small disbelief.

Abby was curious.  She asked Mark to come over the next day to explore her new mysterious house house with her.  They searched the house looking for a door to the attic, since the attic was what they were mostly anticipating finding.

"I didn't know this house was so big on the inside!" Abby exclaimed.  In fact, the house was really a mini mansion-- you could get lost in it.  They had found many interesting things-- mostly ornate, detailed paintings.  But not the door to the attic.

"There has to be a door on this wall somewhere.  Why don't we take a break and have a snack at my house?"Mark invited Abby over for double-chocolate-chip cookies, fresh out of the oven, baked by his grandmother.

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"What have y'all two been doing? Y'all look exhausted. Have some cookies!" said grandmother.

Abby and Mark ate hungrily and told her about exploring the house.  In exchange, Grandmother told them the story of Jacob the evil painter who used to live in the old stone house one hundred years ago.

"...Jacob was the original owner of the house and he had died in his sleep one hundred years ago.  No one had lived in the house since, because anyone who had attempted to live there had been searching for the attic entry to find out who or what was up there; or they simply disappeared and no one ever saw them again..."

Grandmother went on and on about creepy happenings and about the big husky man named Jacob who was only a legend.  Some said that he painted himself when he was younger so that when his real self died, he could release his painting-self to take over his house and the secrets that lay inside. Jacob's family was supposedly witches or wizards and practiced spells and other evil black magics. He painted himself with "living" paints, which were made of powdered things that were at one time alive. For example, powdered blood, bound with old red flower petals and new quail egg whites for liquidness.  If the paints weren't mixed just right, then the painted being could be stuck in a two-dimensional form.  

Jacobs plan was to live on and on forever...  He kidnapped people whom he thought knew too much about him.

"Most people said that the paintings were quite odd-- some shimmered, from some you could feel a breeze or a draft, some are so peculiar I cam]n't describe them; and some are just down right creepy.  Tell you what , kiddos, it's getting late-- almost time for dinner. Mark, you walk Abby next door.  Tomorrow, I'll come show both of you a few things in that house.  You'll need a proper tour guide.  Bye!" Grandmother called as she put a lasagna in the oven and Mark and Abby walked out the door.