Horrorfest

16: Scarred

"Come on. You can just come back early tomorrow to continue the painting. We still have two days before the final assessment."

"You know that I don't like to leave a painting unfinished midway," I replied as I put on more layers of acrylic paint on the canvas.

"Are you sure spending the night here is a good idea?" Gunawan eyed the classroom as he adjusted the rims of his glasses towards the bridge of his nose.

"A lot of students spend the night at this art college when it's nearing assessment week. It's nothing new," I reassured him gently.

"Yeah, but they're not spending the night... here, in this classroom," Gunawan's voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "Plus...isn't it kind of creepy that we're the only ones around on the 3rd floor of this... building? THE third floor? No one stays in this building after dark," Gunawan added uneasily.

I looked up from my painting for a brief second and studied his frame. Gunawan was standing at the front door, his back towards the dark corridor that was barely lit by the sparse moonlight. Every few seconds, he flitted his eyes edgily towards the toilet that was down the hall.

"Please don't tell me you are too naive to believe that? Has anyone seen the actual ghost? No. So it's not real," I snorted.

"You shouldn't say that ghosts aren't real," Gunawan interrupted me anxiously as he moved away from the door frame in haste and edged closer towards me.

I tried not to stifle a giggle at his jumpy demeanour.

"Who's that anyway?" Gunawan asked curiously as he pointed to the painting. I knew he was trying to take his mind off the 'ghost'.

"I'm not sure. I dreamt about her a few times. It's always the same dream."

"I'm getting goosebumps just hearing that. Can you make her look less creepy though? Those scars on her face make me kind of nervous."

"Gunawan, they are just scars," I rolled my eyes.

"Not when they look like Freddy Krueger's."

I took a step back and scrutinized my painting. The scars do look similar to Freddy Krueger's. I wonder if I should cover up the scars. I don't want the assessors to think that I lack originality by unintentionally painting the scars akin to Freddy Krueger's.

"Maybe if you finished up the eyes, it would be less creepy. Right now, those hollow whites with poppy red veins are just staring at me," Gunawan complained.

"The eyes are done. That's how she looked like in my dreams," I snapped, annoyed at Gunawan's accusatory tone.

"Dreams? Or nightmares? This 'dreams' of yours is a sign, okay? You shouldn't be messing with this kind of 'dreams' or telling people about it. Who draws stuff from their nightmares? That's just too creepy for me." Gunawan pushed the three charcoal drawing sticks of different thickness on the table nearest to me where my backpack was. "Oh! Thanks for lending this to me earlier. I don't think I'll be staying here any longer. It's going to be almost midnight and you know what happens at midnight."

***********

1.17 a.m.

Pfft. Midnight came and nothing happened. See, ghosts aren't real.

I sighed heavily as I looked at my finished painting. I was so easily coerced to change stuff. Why is that? Scars no longer line the woman's face. The bloodshot veins on her eyes removed and replaced by splotches of white in place. Her eyes now a sparkling grey, shimmering under the fluorescent light. She looked like an ordinary woman now, which was a shame. The scars had given her so much character.

Guess I won't be spending the night.

Feeling dejected and mentally wondering whether I should just create another painting with a different subject the next day, I placed the easel that held my painting, at the far corner of the room to let it dry. I walked towards my backpack with exhaustion and started to clean up and pack my stuff. As I was packing my items away, I noticed that the three charcoal sticks that Gunawan had left earlier on the table was gone. Not thinking that anything was amiss, I just dismissed it as them having fallen to the ground by the wind.

I went on all fours and examined under the tables and chairs near my backpack. How strange. I could not find them.

"Where the hell are the freaking charcoal sticks?!" I shouted with rage, my patience wearing thin.

THWACK!

THWACK!

THWACK!

Three. I could feel three small things being thrown at the back of my head. I could hear them fall and roll towards my feet.

Looking down tensely, I saw them - my three charcoal drawing sticks.

"Gunawan! You stayed behind, didn't you? This is not funny! The only person who knew where the sticks are, were you!" Even though I was furious, anyone could hear that my voice was cracking under a glint of fear.

"Gunawan!" I screamed as I packed the three charcoal sticks in my pencil case and stashed it in my backpack.

Harsh and furious scratching filled the room and two loud pokes were heard.

Scratchscratchscratchscratchscratch...

POKE! POKE!

"Gunawan. I know it's you!"

I scanned my eyes across the room and for that brief second, I saw a dark shadow rushed past the front door.

I was quite the runner and I knew I was faster than Gunawan so I ran towards the door but there was no one. There was no footsteps going down the stairs either. There was no sound at all.

Feeling extremely uneasy, I went back inside, took my backpack and hurriedly walked towards the switches to turn off the lights and ceiling fans but what I saw made me scream inside.

There were multiple and deep scratch marks on the face of the portrait that I painted. What used to be sparkling grey eyes are now replaced by gigantic holes in the canvas.

However, anger overtook my fear a few seconds later and I stomped towards the painting - the painting that I took hours to finish.

I traced my fingers along the curves of the scratches, outraged at the vandalism. As my fingers went nearer towards the eye sockets, a pair of white eyes with dark red bloodshot veins appeared from under the two holes in the canvas.

I dropped the painting in absolute fright, ran away from the classroom as fast as I could and hurried towards the stairs. As I placed my right hand on the stairs' railing to steady myself, I felt something grabbed onto my right arm from behind.

I spun around, startled with disbelief. The very same image that I drew at first, that same woman with the scars on her face and white eyes with bloodshot veins was standing face to face, staring straight into me.