The Painting

Howard found the painting, sculpture, concoction ' not sure what to call it actually. It was in an old antique frame in the basement of an abandoned old mansion deep in the woods. The mansion itself has great tales of the haunts still living within its hollow walls.

He went during the day at high noon to retrieve any loot he could find within the mansion. Even though he went in mid-day, he swears he felt someone or something watching him the entire time he ventured through. The mansion was a typical old style mansion. Large stairways led in different directions off to different rooms. It took him over an hour to peruse through the already picked through loot within the old place. Howard was able to find an old golden coin in the bottom of a drawer in one of the larger bedrooms. In another bedroom he picked up a vase. Not sure of its worth, but it is a beautiful specimen to place on a shelf. In the dining room he found some old silver, and in the basement he found the painting.

When Howard arrived back at his home, he placed the gold coin into the bottom of one of his own bedroom dresser drawers. He placed the vase on an empty shelf on his bookcase. The silver went into a bureau drawer. The painting, well, he hung it over the couch in his living room.

He figured, hanging it in a room where people often trafficked, it would get plenty of attention because of its unique construction and design. It was an unusual creation by an artist who obviously had some disturbing issues to deal with. The antique frame was silver in color with an elaborate pattern engraved into it around the inside border. Within the frame was a dark scene. Black, red, oranges, and yellows made up the background creating an ominous image of fire burning in Hell.

The thing that made this painting look demonic was the fact that meshed onto the canvas and protruding through the cut out piece on the left side of the frame was a doll-like, well mannequin-like almost, creation of a woman. The face of the woman was painted showing a saddened almost hopeless face. There was no hair adorning her head, and Howard thought the artist proved the point better since she was bald. Her eyes were hollowed out of her head, and dark rings were painted around her eyes. Only the top portions of her body, arms included, were preserved for this piece. Her upper body was covered in a beautiful dark-red velvet fabric. Black lace embellished her hands and fingers whose fingernails were painted cobalt blue. Painted on the canvas above her fingertips were little bolts of lightning radiating outward.

It was an odd piece of artwork, Howard would admit. However, when he saw it sitting up against the basement wall, he had an uncanny pull towards it. So he picked it up, brought it home, and hung it up.

Most visitors to his home commented on it. It turned out to be a great conversational piece. Unfortunately, the reactions he received for hanging up such a ' as they would say ' ghastly piece of work, was very negative. He thought the reactions were more funny than harsh, but after a while he too started to get spooked by its image.

One stormy night, as the winds howled and the rain fell down in a torrent, the electricity had gone out. Howard sat in the living room watching the candlelight flicker above the wick. He stared for about an hour back and forth from the mesmerizing simplicity of the burning candle and its bouncing reflection on the wall. It started to get late, well late for Howard, and since there was no electricity to occupy his time, he decided to blow out the candles and go to sleep.

He lay in bed rethinking about the day, life, the future, the present, and many other fleeting thoughts ran through his head. Each one drifting away as soon as they filled his mind. He heard the rain beating on the windows, and thunder would shake the air while lightning lit the sky. Eventually he drifted off to sleep.

It was about two hours before midnight still, and the storm was getting worse as the minutes ticked away. When midnight struck, the thunder rang out louder and lightning struck down brighter than it had previously. Howard rolled over in his slumber and continued to snore. He was totally unaware of the scene manifesting in his living room.

From within the painting hung over his couch, the little lighting bolts painted above the crazy woman's fingers began to sparkle. Slowly they began to flash on and off like electric currents. As the bolts got stronger and brighter, the cobalt blue-tipped fingers began to twitch. Piece by piece the woman slowly came to life. Her hollowed out eyes began to take a yellowish glow as her head slowly lifted off of the canvas. She pulled her arms and torso off the canvas as well and climbed free down onto the couch.

As she dragged her half body along with her arms, wheezing filled the air. Pull by pull she reached the hardwood floors of the living room. Her fingernails were like claws as she scratched deep into the wood and pulled herself forward wheeze after wheeze.

Inch by inch she pulled as the storm outside went into a frenzy. This legless demon was on the prowl, and she found her way into Howard's room. Her yellow eyes scoured the surroundings figuring out a way to get up to him without awaking him. Next to the bed was a small chair. She moved her way over to it. Pulling with all of her might she inched the chair down to the foot of the bed. Grabbing onto the arms of the chair, balancing her weight so as to not tip herself over and cause a commotion, she made it onto the seat.

Adjusting her body upright was a bit of a feat, but when she had done it she was in position. Facing the sleeping Howard, she raised her arms up into the air. As she did this the lightning bolts began again. This time they were not weak and meager as before. Instead, they flicked and sparked upward bouncing off the top of the ceiling. With arms shooting bolts, the demon began to softly mutter an ancient chant.

Lightning bolts began to shoot not only out of her fingertips but from every point of her body. When the demon had become a fiery ball of energy except her chanting face, she lowered her arms down onto Howard's shins. He shot up in pain screaming. Pore by Pore the energy overtook Howard's legs. The electricity radiated upward to the top of his thighs and downward to the tips of his toes. Howard moaned in pain.

Lightning struck a tree outside, and it pounded to the ground. It landed close to the bedroom window, and the window shattered inward from the air pressure of the fall. Rain poured into the room. Thunder barely drowned out Howard's howls of agony.

Howard looked deep into the demon's eyes as he screamed for mercy. The feeling in his legs was beginning to dwindle. As he stared into her eyes he saw a smile begin to form on her face. Her wheezing got louder and louder while Howard let out one last crying scream before he passed out from the shock. The storm outside came to an abrupt halt. The world fell silent.

The next morning Howard opened his eyes. He could not believe his sight. Rather lack of sight that is. He was unable to see anything. In fact, he was unable to move and could not feel anything below his waist. He tried to scream, but no sound came out from his mouth. A moment later he heard something moving in the distance.

"Well hello there, he heard in a rasping female voice. "You look very nice in a frame. Howard tried to say something, but again no words formed on his lips.

"I know you can't talk or answer me so I'll get to the point. Long ago I was trapped in the painting you found in my old home. Ancient magic locked me into a permanent pose as punishment after they took away my legs. I was forced to pull myself around night after night in my home whenever the world was in torment of a storm and chaos was abundant in the air.

At first I was confined within the frame until one evening the electricity was knocked out by a bolt of lightning. Ever since then, every night at midnight I would pull myself endlessly though the halls of my old home. That was until you came and removed me. Night after night I was locked within the frame again unable to leave my painted jail cell. Then last night I was relieved of that cell when the storm rolled in and knocked out the electricity. Time stuck twelve in the morning, and I was free.

So I thank you for your legs and this new life. As for your fate, this morning I shall place you in my old home in the basement where you found me originally. Every night you can roam the halls of the home you looted. You can pull yourself along the halls that once bore bountiful fruit that has been taken slowly away over time. Your greed shall be your own curse until another like you comes along.