It was a trip of a lifetime yet, it all started with that painting. It seemed almost alive. Like it was watching his every move. He had seen it and couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of the painting. It was a cool summer's day in Amalfi. The wind cooled the day off.
The delicately placed brush strokes fading away as it only left the perfectly painted face. It was a young woman with long red hair painted behind her head except for the one piece of hair. She had one piece of her red hair over her shoulder. It looked so real. Her green eyes dull and lifeless, and her lips. They were red and full. It was such a realistic painting it made it almost look like she was really. That she was sitting behind a clear canvas holding still. But that’s impossible. There was no one there. It was just a painting. But no matter how much he tried, there seemed to be a small voice in his head telling him something was wrong.
He looked around but nobody seemed to be having the same issue. Everyone just kept walking. Nobody paid any attention to him or the painting. It was almost like he was invisible. He walked to the woman selling the paintings.
“Good day sir” the lady spoke
“Good day. I would like know how much for that painting?” he said pointing in the direction of the painting
“Let me check for you.” she stood up and walked over to the painting. The corner of it was moved and a tag fell out. It read $790.
“Would you like to purchase it?”
“I think that I would.”
“Please come back over to the counter so that I can ring you in.”
He followed her to the counter where he gave her the money. He luckily figured he would need a lot so he brought $1000. Once he had paid the lady sent someone to grab the painting and to wrap it. Than he thanked her and headed out.
The sun was high up in the sky casting shadows across the ground. He could feel a soft breeze of wind blowing the trees. There was the overwhelming sound of cars driving and honking. He closed his eyes and let the sound of the city calm him. He was so focused that he didn’t notice the man come up behind him. The man tapped him on the shoulder causing him to jump. He spun around to see the man holding the painting wrapped in newspaper.
“Where do you want this?” the man in a gruff voice said.
“Oh in my car right over there.” he pointed to the small car.
The man walked off and placed the painting in the car. Then he walked off leaving the younger man standing there once again alone. He got into his car and went home.
BEEP! BEEP! His alarm went off.
4:00 PM. that was what time it was. It was time for him to start cooking.
He had to set a timer because he would get to carried away with gardening that he wouldn’t even realize it was late. He would got out at noon and then in no time it was 6.
He walked into his front-room the next day to hear a voice. He couldn’t tell what it was or what it was saying. He started to follow where the voice sounded like it was coming from. He felt as though it was trying to tell him something. It sent a warm chill down his spine. He felt drawn to the painting sitting on the floor. Still covered by newspaper. He sat on the ground right in-front of the painting. Carefully and cautiously he removed the newspaper almost like he was scared something was going to jump out at him. The paper fell onto the ground with a satisfying crackling.
He sucked in a breath afraid for what he would see but there was nothing. He let out the breathe he was holding in and relaxed. Just than a voice rang through his head. It was an almost angelic sound. He looked back at the painting. The woman was moving. He saw her blink. A small twitch in the nose. He even swore he saw her hair fell onto her shoulder.
He lifted his hands to his eyes. Rubbing them than looking at the painting again. Nothing happened. Or at least that is what he wished he could say. But he couldn’t. The lady had her hands up against the canvas of course from the inside. Her eyes pleading for help. Then the voice came again. The beautiful angelic sound. He couldn’t make out any words but he could tell it was coming from her.
“Is that you talking?” the man asked, ”Can you hear me?” She nodded but didn’t say anything. The sound came back into his head but still he couldn’t understand. He looked at her again. He felt as though his heart was being ripped out of his chest.
“How do I get you out?” he questioned her but like before there was no answer. “Can I cut the canvas? Would that get you out?”
She looked at him. The only emotion was fear. Fear for never getting out. Fear for dying. She slowly nodded her head at him. He looked around the room until he found a small exacto knife. He carefully placed the knife onto the canvas. Carefully he started cutting. Before he knew it he had finished cutting it. There was a large hole in the painting now. He could no longer see her. Then all of a sudden a delicate hand appeared. It grabbed the side of the canvas.
Before he knew it she was standing right in front of him. Her red hair shinnying in the sunlight. The bright green eyes no longer dull and lifeless now they are excited. They are bright and full of life. She had the largest smile on her face. Than she looked at him. She sat right in front of him and hugged him. She gave him the largest hug she had ever given.
“Are you okay.” he asked still concerned and shocked. His heart beating at a million miles a minute. He couldn’t help but look at her taking in all of her features. Even as realistic as the painting looked it didn’t do her justice. Her hair was like looking into the sun it was so beautiful. Her eyes so green almost as if they were stealing all the green out of the world. And her lips they were full and pink. He could tell that they were a little dry. He quickly tore his vision away when he heard that angelic sound.
“My name is Sabrina Pring. Thank you so much for letting me out.”
“My name is Reid Bates. Might I ask how you came to be in that painting?”
“I really don’t remember. One moment I was sleeping in my bed and the next thing I knew I was in that painting.”
“How long have you been in there?”
“I don’t know. It was February the 19th. What it today?”
“You have been in there for 5 months. It is June 24th.”
“I can't believe it. Have I really been in there that long.”
She sat down on the ground head in her hands. He could hear a soft sob coming from her. He sat there still and utterly confused on what he should do. He slowly crept up next to her. He placed his arm around her and she looked up. Her eyes already puffy and red. Her face wet from the tears. He lifted his hand and cleared away a freshly falling tear. Then she buried her face in his chest. Still crying her eyes out.
Maybe five minutes later she finally stopped crying. By than his shirt was covered in both dirt and tears. He had been working in his garden outside. He was planting his new flowers and pumpkins. He not only loved art but he loved his garden. When he had started hearing her beautiful voice in his head he was in the kitchen attempting to clean himself up. He could see her face now smudged in dirt from his shirt. He stood up and held out his hand for her. She looked at him with a face that held concern but also something else.
“Let’s get you cleaned up” he told her
“Ya,” she sniffled one last time wiping her face with the back of her hand which just smeared the dirt even more.
They started walking in the kitchen when he slipped. He felt himself fall. Everything was moving in slow motion. He fell and she tried to catch him. Her arms moving slowly compared to his body. His arms flailing wildly around trying to grab anything. He felt his back hit first then his head. Everything went blurry and then faded to black. He could faintly hear her voice before everything faded out.
His eyes slowly opened. There was a blinding light that forced him to close his eyes. When he opened them again he could see. He was sitting on the floor in-front of a painting. He sat up and looked around. He didn’t see anything out of place.
Than the memory of that day came back into his mind. The woman. The painting. He looked back at it but there was no cut in the canvas. There was no voice in his head. The woman still in the painting. He wasn't moving. There was not the sound of her voice. He tried to remember what happened. He set her free and then she broke down. What happened after that? Why was he back in the front room? He feel. That was what happened. He remembered now. They were walking into the kitchen and he had fallen. That doesn’t explain why everything was the way it was before.
He stood up and walked into the kitchen to get himself a cup of water. Right when he stepped foot into the kitchen however the familiar beeping of the alarm went off. He looked at the clock to relieve it was 4:00 PM again.
Than the voice came. That one angelic voice. The one he would never forget. Don’t trust everything you see. Not everything is as it seemed. The painting definitely wasn’t and know his life wasn’t either. What had happened to his life to make everything spiral out of control.
Nothing was the same after that day. Well those days. Every day was the same. He would wake up at 4:00 on the floor in front of the painting every day. Over and over. No matter what he did. It was always the same thing.
Everything was different. The really question though is what caused it and what adventure awaits them.
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