Un Painting Extraordinaire

A Tale of a Painting

The eyes in the painting followed him down the corridor. He doesn’t realize it, but that’s what being watched feels like. A watcher when fastened to a wall and just snakes behind you with soft dead eyes, is twice as terrible as a normal human one. This painting seemed to take particular interest in his mannerisms, his style of walking.

Just as he was about to evacuate the staircase for good, the painting rose to the occasion and let out a single, sullen cough. The figure on the staircase stood confused for a moment, then took another step down. It wasn’t easy but he managed it. One foot over another, cautiously.

Another louder yet genteel cough.

It had to be the painting.

He charged back up the staircase.

The painting watched him all the way up, taking the stairs three at a time. Closer, closer…

Then it vanished. The only thing left for the panting artist to behold in the frame when he arrived, was a puddle of overspent imagination and the strain of years of mental toil.

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Author's Note

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[APOORVA]

well the story has touched.
well written