100 Theme Challenge #40

40. Moon

It had been a few months Arissa and her parents move in a new house, apart from the rest of the town. It was said to have belonged to some French taking part of the Resistance who did strange experiments on Nazis. Having found no evidence of these rumors, her parents ignored them, and so did Arissa. Until she found something weird during one of her many expeditions around the house. There was a shack at the edge of the woods, probably used as a storage room of some sort, but now it was mostly empty. She did find something interesting though, at the very back of the storage, stacked between two wooden planks. It was an old painting of a scenery, a French, wildly organized garden with an odd statue in the middle.

Arissa stared at it for a moment before realizing it was a distorted eye looking right back at her. She gasped and dropped the wooden frame. She was sure it was moving to follow her movements. Quickly she put it back between the planks and ran off. She left her candle burn that night, too afraid but unable to tell her parents because she felt silly that a painting could cause her so much terror. She couldn't help but remind herself of the way the light glinted on the sculpture, as if it somehow entered the painting. The flowers and plants felt also so real she almost could touch them and expect to feel their texture under her digits.

Around some unholy time during the night, she still wasn't asleep, and the howl of the wind outside was enough to keep her alert. She picked a book but couldn't concentrate. She looked outside, and blinked. Sure enough, there was light coming from the shack. Her curiosity got the best of her. She picked her candle and adventured in the house to go outside. The light didn't vanished as she approached, and it created a halo around her when she opened the door and step inside.

It was coming from the painting, which was now laying on the floor. She crouched down to take a better look. The moon was shining in the garden, the statue and illuminating the eye. She leaned even more and watched with wonder a few hair strands go through the canvas, and brush the nearest rose. She reached a hand and the same thing happened.

She fell in the painting.


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