The picture
I stared at the mirror in front of me, and I asked myself “who am I?” I hadn’t thought about this question for a long time. My neighbors had said that where we had just moved to was haunted. Nothing like our house on the hill down by the lake, this small city apartment had everything that a haunted house could have called for. Cabinets constantly swung open at the crack of midnight. Candles lighted By themselves in the dark, and sometimes during the day the Lights behind our couch flickered on and off by themselves. The most frightening thing that I have seen so far, that I dare not say out loud “the picture that was ‘black and white’ moved places around the house. This time, I caught the picture moving by itself. As if a Spirit from beyond the realm, we’re spinning it in circles, it rotated three times and then moved like a train on a train track across the wall right behind the mirror. I was horrified “well shit” I whispered under my breath, I grabbed the bag of salt I left by my bed side table. I had a cross above my head board and the Bible next to me on my arm chair. The fire in the fire place flickered out, and everything turned to black. Except for the picture which was In transition, from the wall, and moved to right in front of my face. As the colored picture turned back to “black and white” the eyes of the lady who died in our house began to move. Resting on my eyes, she leaned out of the picture, turned her mouth to my ear and yelled “boo.” I jumped out of my chair, ran down the hall way, and out of the apartment. That’s okay, I was going to get evicted next week anyway. Money was tight and sleep was rare, so naturally I thought I was seeing things. It wasn’t until my therapist told me about mania and the ability to see and hear things that aren’t actually there. “Well at least I’m not crazy“ I told the doctor “you’re not crazy, just tired” and maybe I will forever be tired, especially after the black and white picture started listing off different ways that she could kill me In my ear. “word of advice my friends?” I told the group sitting with me at lunch, they stared at me eagerly waiting my response. “what’s that?” Almost every one of them asked me in a different format.
“never buy a painting from an old antique shop” I gulped “at least that’s what my land lord told me” they all started shaking there heads, nodding as if they understood. I laughed a little bit because until you see a ‘black and white picture’ speak to you, then it’s almost like a terrible dream, which no one understands until they see it. The end.