Dead Air - A Collection of Horror Stories

The Painting

It's raining like hell and my car has broken down in the middle of nowhere. Just my luck.

I climb down and try to give it a push, but soon give up. It must be midnight. It's cold and serene and I can barely see anything through this dark haze. I suddenly spot a  brightly lit brick house at the end of the lonely road. I make my way to the house and knock frantically on the front door. A hunched old woman opens the door. She flashes me the kindest and sweetest toothless smile.

"Hello," she says, "Are you lost?"

"Well, yes," I say, "My car has broken down over there and there's no signal on my phone. I was wondering if I could get a little help."

"I'll call the police tomorrow. They'll help you get home safely. For tonight, why don't you rest here? It's really dark and cold outside."

"That's so awfully kind of you!"

She lets me inside. Her house is small, yet warm and well furnished. Sizzling bright flames light up the fireplace. I spot a row of beautiful smiling portraits hung on the wall over the mantel piece.

"Have you made those?"

"Oh yes," the woman says, "Being confined by old age, these paintings are my only source of income."

"They are magnificent!"

"Why, dear, thank you."

The portraits are of different kinds of people. One is of a little boy, the other of a pregnant woman, the other of a Scottish family, and so on. Each splendidly painted; almost looking life-like. I couldn't help admire the old woman's works.

She offers me a bowl of warm soup and bread, which I devour thankfully then settle myself in a warm cosy room which she shows me into. Late that night, some noises in the living room wake me up. They sound like coarse whispers. I cautiously slide out of bed and make my way out to the living room. In the dark room, dimly lit by the dying flames of the fireplace, I see nothing other than the beautiful portraits arranged on the wall. I convince myself it was just the sound of leaves I heard but just as I am about to turn back, I find myself gazing at the portraits once again. Something about those faces fascinate me. It's like they are calling me. Dazed, I walk closer towards the portraits. I walk a little closer. Then again a little closer. Then closer, closer and closer...

Next morning, I wake up as the room gets illuminated by sunlight. At first, I don't know where I am. Suddenly, I realize I'm at the old woman's house. My body is stiff and aches. I look around myself and realize I must have fallen asleep in the living room. I can't move my body for some reason. Something has happened to me! I try to scream in panic, but my face is froze in an involuntary smile. My insides squirm and call out for help in vain.

Suddenly, someone knocks on the door and the old woman rushes to open it. I writhe for her attention.

She lets in a young couple whose gaze fall over at me. The young girl walks towards me, gazing in mild awe.

"It's beautiful," she gasps.

The old woman finally turns to me, smiling her toothless smile, "Oh, that's my latest work. Just completed it last night."

****************