Short horror stories

The face painting

  It was the day after the grandmother's funeral and I was going through her basement. I was pretty close to my grandmother, so it was painful looking through all of her old belongings. She always understood me and cared about me. It just still shocked me that she was actually gone.
  As I continued to sort through her things, I found an old paintings in an otherwise empty box. I gently lifted it out of the box to find a beautiful painting of my grandmother when she was younger. She looked so youthful with her long, brown hair and bright blue eyes. Seeing those eyes again just struck me right in the heart. I knew that I wanted to keep this painting. It was the only way I'd ever seen her eyes open again.
  Once I had left, I immediately drive down to my house and hung it up on my living room wall. I had to admit that it looked a little out of place, but it was still beautiful. I felt like the painting would have her youthfulness live on forever. The rest of the evening I just watched a football game in the living room. I occasionally glanced at the painting. It almost felt as if she were there with me. Her beautiful eyes just kept its gaze on me.
  That night I couldn't stop thinking about my grandmother. I tossed and turned in the bed. I felt like she needed me. She was all alone in the living room. I picked up my blanket and fell asleep on the couch. I felt her watch over me as I slept. I knew that in some way, she was with me again.
  Time went on and on, and I lived alone with the painting. Not many women came around, but when they did, they were just too creeped out by the painting. It didn't matter to me anyway. My grandmother would always be there for me no matter what. I didn't need a girlfriend and I certainly didn't need a wife. I was doing just fine.
  I didn't have anyone else in my family except my sister. She would occasionally come visit me. She missed our grandmother as well, but everytime she came over she was always trying to convince me to get out of the house. She said my obsession with the painting was unhealthy. I didn't care. My grandmother meant too much to me for her to just be taken away. I knew it was breaking my sister's heart, but she had to realize how alive our grandmother was in that painting.
  As time moved on and on, I grew older. It was now my 70th birthday. My sister tried convincing me to move in with her so that I wouldn't be so alone. I simply explained to her that I wasn't alone at all. This seemed to upset her even more.
  After she left, I walked up to the painting and stared at it's glory. My grandmother's eyes were truly beautiful. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my chest and collapsed to the ground.
  Once I had opened my eyes, I realized that I couldn't move my body. I struggled to move my muscles but not a single one moved. I then saw my sister approach me. I attempted to yell and move, but all I could do is just stare. Her eyes were filled with tears as she clutched a tissue tightly in her hands.
  "I wish I could've gotten you away from this..." she sobbed quietly to herself. 
  I tried to reach out to her but nothing happened. I stared at her and that was all I could do. I felt so helpless. She then reached her arms out and picked me up. My heart sank.
  "I'll hang you on my wall so I'll never forget your eyes....now I can always look at them," she smiled.
  I only asked myself one question. Was this the same fate my grandmother was in?