I'm a painter. Not many people know me and my work. What is my name? I think it's best if you don't know who I really am.
I started my day like any other. I went to my mailbox and checked if anyone sent me a letter. I always feel scared every time I walk from my door step to the mailbox. Why? I'm afraid that no one will remember to write to me.
I opened that mailbox and there it was, a letter. A letter from a couple I don't even know. They know about me and they want me to paint a portrait of them. They want me to go to their place.
The next morning I went to the train station to go to the couple's place. This is going to be a long trip. The couple lives 5 stops away.
I slept for a while but there's still a long way to go. I saw a lady a few seats away from me. I walked towards her and sat across from her. I talked to her so I wouldn't get bored in this trip.
"Hello, miss. May I know your name?" I asked.
"Zombieline" she replied.
We talked for a while. I found out she was into art as well. I told her I was a painter.
I also told a story about the image of Jesus Christ that appeared in a prison cell. Guards said that they can't let anyone use that cell anymore because pilgrims were already occupying the entire place. I said that a friend of mine wanted to find out what medium was used to draw that image. We eventually found out that the ashes from burnt matches were used. When we told the guards about it, they were in awe. They told us that it was impossible to make such an enormous image such as that using only used matches. They said that they don't hold anyone in that cell for more than 24 hours. It was truly impossible.
Then I told her another story about a painting by Michelangelo. It was 'The Last Judgement' at the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City. I said there was a man who looked at the painting and saw himself. The worst part was, his face was included in the people that were placed in hell. Since he was close to the Pope, he asked him if the Pope could ask Michelangelo to remove his face from there. The Pope decided to look at the painting along with the cardinals. They saw that the man was not lying. He was indeed in hell. The Pope told the man that if he were in purgatory, he could pray for his soul. But since he was in hell, he couldn't save him. No matter how much he prays. No matter how much everyone in the world prays for his soul, they will not be able to save him.
I told her I was going to New Jersey because a couple asked me to paint a portrait of them. Then Zombieline recalled a story about one couple and their portrait. She told me that the couple noticed something odd about the portrait. They were quite young when that portrait was made. As they grew older, the image in the portrait grew older with them. When they were fighting and were mad at each other, the couple in the portrait were also mad. The eyebrows meet in the middle, their arms were crossed, and they weren't facing each other. Weird, isn't it? Then this couple had an idea. They thought, "What if we burned this painting? Then we wouldn't grow old anymore? We will just stay at this age forever." So they spilled gasoline on the painting and lit it on fire. As the painting burned, the couple burned as well.
Zombieline and I were having so much fun talking about different stories related to art. But unfortunately, this was her stop. She had to go now. We said our farewells and hoped we could see each other again.
Before I knew it, I was already at the couple's place.
"Good day, sir!" they greeted.
They welcomed me into their humble abode. I told them how surprised I was when I read their letter. I didn't know people still knew me.
I stayed at their place until I finished their portrait.
One morning, I woke up and I saw Zombieline. I wanted to chase after her but I was only wearing underpants.
"I didn't know Zombieline lives here." I told the couple.
Then the couple told me that Zombieline, their daughter, has been dead for years. They asked me if I could still remember her face. They asked me to sketch a picture of her. So I did.
"Do you want me to include her in the portrait? As if she's still here?" I asked.
They agreed.
Finally the portrait is finished!
I was at the train station. Waiting.
There she was. Zombieline. She approached me. I wanted to run away.
"No. This is not real. You're dead!" I said.
Zombieline was confused. She touched me to prove she wasn't dead. I told her that her parents told me she was dead. She told me I was wrong. Her parents died years ago. I didn't want to believe her. She told me she comes here often to visit her parent's grave. She asked me to come with her to the cemetery.
There it was. Zombieline's parents' grave. She wasn't lying.
