The Paintings

Two teens investigate a haunted art museum that has scared the residents of the small town of Osdenburg for generations.

The Paintings

They say that the old abandoned art museum on 17^th and Franklin is haunted.  Now, whether you believe this or not is another story.  Of course, people have many different stories explaining sightings and experiences.  The museum even has its own horror story.  It was actually the highlight of the boring and small town of Osdenburg, and the only reason they got anywhere close to having tourists.  The tourists were people who considered themselves “ghost hunters.”  I, myself, thought they were all liars.  They just became famous off of stupid, fake stories with made up evidence.  Every group or pair that investigated the old art museum never came back to Osdenburg.  A few residents even said that they had been terrified after going, but those investigators were star actors.  They would do anything to make their stories and “experiences” seem real. 

            It was also a kind of hangout for teenagers.  Well, more like a place for initiations.  It is said that a few sports teams would lock their new members in the art museum for thirty minutes then let them out afterwards.  I’m not entirely sure if these rumors are true or not, since I haven’t really been in one of these initiation sports before.  I’m not much of a sport kind of guy. I’m more of a filmmaker.  I carry a camera everywhere I go.  Sure it is a bit of a target for some bullies, but honestly, I don’t care all that much. 

            Slinging my backpack over my shoulders and grabbing my precious camera, I head out for school.  It was in walking distance, so there was no need for me to drive to school or take the fearsome bus.  As I walked, the sound of crunching leaves behind me caught my attention, and I looked over my shoulder.  A girl with long brown hair, large black glasses and owl wide blue eyes ran up till she was walking next to me.  It was none other than Lillian Keaton.  Her backpack was slung over only one shoulder, and she wore a bright red shirt, black pants and a golden scarf.  A black beanie was placed on top of her head, and to finish her outfit, she had on brown boots. 

“Elliot, are you ready for tonight?”  She burst out and I smiled over at the excited girl. 

“Sure, but Lilly, I still don’t understand why you are so determined to film the old art museum.”  I sighed and she smirked.

“What are you, scared?  I already told you, Elliot!  We can be the heroes of this community.  With your spectacular filming skills and my expert writing abilities, we will be able to debunk that rundown trash heap!” Lillian burst out passionately, her blue eyes blazing in the dim morning light. 

            Now, here’s a thing about Lillian Keaton. She was the president of the student newspaper at school.  Not only did she write her own columns, but she also edited everyone else’s in the club.  Her English grade was never lower than a 98 percent, and already she was working on writing her own novel. There were times that an anonymous writer’s short stories would appear in the newspaper around Osdenburg, and anyone could make the assumption that it was Lillian’s.  In other words, Lillian Keaton’s brain was wired for writing and literature.   Some may even consider her to be a kind of prodigy in it.  However, not only was she a master in writing, but her acting was spontaneous.  Ever since her freshman year of high school, she has been able to snag the lead part of every major school production, except for the musicals.  Each year, the plays were a huge hit and it was rare for someone to miss a show in the small town.  Everyone wanted to see the amazing Lillian Keaton star in the show and make it an enrapturing tale.  Even the students at Osden High liked her.  Lillian was dramatic, bubbly and spontaneous, so basically, the opposite of me.  She was fun and nice to everyone.  She was the type of person who could instantly fit into any clique without a second thought.  Honestly, many people found it odd that Lillian Keaton and I, Elliot Westfield, were best friends and have been since the eighth grade, which was when I moved to this boring town from Boston, Massachusetts.  Even if Osdenburg was boring, having Lillian as a friend certainly wasn’t, and somehow, the energetic girl made everything much more interesting. 

“I’m not scared of some phony town horror story.  Besides, we both know that in the end you’re going to get all the credit.”  I pointed out and she huffed.

“Not true, Westfield, not true!  When I write my column about it in the school newspaper, I’ll give all the credit to you.  I swear, and you know I don’t go back on my word!”  She exclaimed, making me laugh slightly.

“Yeah, whatever you say, Lilly.  Anyways, didn’t you say that we should interview a few people about the museum before tonight?”  I asked, rubbing the back of my neck.  I really would rather not interview people, but in the end, I may not have much of a choice if Lillian decided it needed to be done, since she wasn’t really one to take no for an answer.

“Why, of course!  In the beginning of the story, we must write the accounts of other people and what they think about the town’s haunted attraction. Then, using that, I’ll lead into our experience about it.  It will be absolutely brilliant.  This story is going to be my absolute best creation.  Think about it, Elliot!  We’re going to prove whether this ghost story, one that has been passed down through generations, is true or not!  Not only will it be written down, but we’ll also have visual evidence with your video camera!  Aren’t you excited?!”  She gushed, moving her hands in expressive gestures as she talked, her voice getting louder and quieter to emphasize certain things she was saying.  Just the way she talked was enough to call someone’s attention and make them listen to her. 

“I mean, I’m excited, I just don’t think we’re going to find anything.   It’s just a creepy old building.”  I said and Lilly rolled her eyes.

“You are such a killjoy, Elliot.  Anyways, we’re going to interview Joshua Esten, Alexandra Kell and Mrs. Dimberlin after school, okay?  I already notified them,” She said and I groaned.

            Joshua Esten, with his blonde hair and blue eyes, was captain of the football team and a huge jerk.  He thought that he was the king of high school, and picked on geeky people like me.  He had his own little gang of football players behind him wherever he walked, and had girls swooning as he passed.  There was a rumor that colleges were already considering him for their football team.  In his four years of high school, he has led the Osden Otters, the most threatening of all animals, to victory in every championship.  They had an undefeated record in football with Esten being the main cause of it.  Now, Lillian didn’t particularly like him, I knew, but apparently it was said that he was the one who brought back the initiation of locking new football recruits in the old art museum, which was why she wanted to interview him.

            Alexandra Kell was the top senior student.  Her grades were unmatched.  AP courses filled her schedule and she was the MVP of all the academic bowls Osden High participated in.  She was also the president of the Debate Club, and basically the whole school, including me, was positive she was going to figure out the cure for cancer and become the President of the United States.  She was also extremely logical and practical, so she probably wrote off the ghost stories surrounding the old art museum as fake.  It was her skeptic view that was the main cause for Lillian’s interest in interviewing her, because she said that journalists had to get different views of the story.

            Last but not least, Mrs. Dimberlin was the oldest teacher at Osden High, and known for her love of flamingos and crazy, extravagant, horse-racing hats.  She was an art teacher even though she could hardly see much of anything, so people wondered how she was able to even grade art projects.  There were rumors that the old woman was on her 77^th birthday, and from the sound of it, she wasn’t planning on quitting anytime soon.  Alumni who returned always asked if the “Old Bird” was still at it, which of course, she was.  Everyone likes Mrs. Dimberlin, since she’s nice and hands out A’s like a boss. However, she always speaks of the old art museum, telling kids to stay away from it.  It didn’t come as much of a surprise that Lillian wanted to interview her.

“Lilly, do I really have to film these interviews?  I mean, Josh is just going to beat on me, Alexandra will tell me some negative probability about my chances of success in the world of filming and Mrs. Dimberlin…well I’m fine with Dimberlin.  She likes me.”  I said, counting off fingers as I spoke. 

“Be positive!  First off, Joshua isn’t going to beat on you.  Not with me around.”  She said and I gave her an incredulous look.

“That’s a lie.  Josh Esten is such an arrogant bast-”

“Ah, ah, ah.  No cussing, Elliot.  It only shows a lack of vocabulary.”  She said in a chipper voice, having raised her finger to cut me off midsentence. 

“Fine.  He’s an arrogant ignoramus.”  I grumbled instead and she beamed.

“Better.  And if he starts being a jerk, then I’ll step in.  Plus, you don’t have to say anything.  Just film me interviewing him.  It won’t take that long.  Also, Alexandra may be a know-it-all, but she isn’t a bully.”  She said matter-of-factly.

“Alright, alright. You win, Lilly.”  I sighed, since if this argument kept up, she was going to win anyways.  Lilly always had an answer to everything, no matter what the topic.  She was the kind of person who could even make a wrong answer seem right.  That being said, it wasn’t like she didn’t put other people’s ideas into consideration.  She was perfect at fusing ideas together into one big solution, and they always somehow ended up working out. 

“Of course I do!”  Lillian chirped, giving me a teasing wink and smiling at me widely. She playfully punched my shoulder as I gave her a solemn glance, “Brighten up, Elliot!  If you don’t then I…I won’t star in your next movie!” She said, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her slender eyebrows at me.

            Let me clear this up.  As cool as it would be, I don’t actually create real movies…yet.  I’m in the Film Club, and we always sign up for the annual film festival every year.  We have to make small movies or documentaries, and then put them up against the other contestants.  I have actually won two years in a row now.  Ever since freshman year, Lillian has starred in my movies, whether as a main part or a minor part.  I never even have to ask her, since she was always looking forward to being in them anyways.  The girl even had a countdown to when we should begin filming, and she would help me brainstorm plots sometimes too.  So the mere thought of her threat came as comical to me, since she wouldn’t miss starring in my film for anything and I let out a laugh.

“You wouldn’t be able to help yourself from getting involved, and we both know it,” I said with a laugh and she gave me this giant smile.

“Well…yeah, maybe.  But hey!  I made you laugh, so my mission is accomplished!”  She said brightly and I shake my head, chuckling lightly.

“Dork,” I teased her.

            The two of us bantered light-heartedly back and forth until we came up to Osden High School.  Osden High School was actually a pretty nice looking school.  It was a two story brick building with lots of windows, so it didn’t seem like a prison.  The hallways were wide enough that they didn’t seem too compact and the classrooms were also nicely sized. The school’s grounds were well groomed, and not a single planted flower seemed out of place.  Lillian and I walked into the school as we continued to speak, only to separate as the bell rang throughout the school.  Lillian had journalism, and I had the most exciting class of all time.  Economics. 

            Like most days, the school day went by slowly.  I went from class to class, speaking with a few of my other filming friends during the passing period and to Lillian whenever I saw her.  The day wasn’t exciting, nor was it entirely boring.  Just…normal.  Really, my thoughts were mostly revolving around sneaking out tonight to go to the old art museum with my best friend.  I wasn’t really a daredevil or rebellious kind of kid, and honestly, I liked to remain on my parents’ good side.  Some people considered that “boring,” but I considered it smart.  Considering that, sneaking out was kind of a huge deal for me.  It made me feel uncomfortable and bad, but I also knew that Lilly was right about one thing.  If we were to debunk the old rundown place after generations of scary rumors, well, it could be life changing.  Since I would be filming the entire experience, I could use it as a documentary for the Film Festival.  Since I’m a senior this year, the winner of the senior division in the Film Festival gets a scholarship to the college of their choosing as long as they decide to major in filming.  That was a huge deal, especially since my family didn’t exactly have a large abundance of cash at hand.  In the end, I figured that this one disagreeable action would be worth it, and I would be lying if I said that it didn’t put a little thrill of excitement through me.  Lillian had actually told me that we didn’t have to do this if I was uncomfortable about the whole thing, but it had been my choice to go through with it even though I was still nervous and a little skeptical about the entire thing.

            As the last bell rang, I walked to my locker, quickly grabbing all my stuff.  Lillian texted me to meet her by the boys’ locker room where Joshua would be waiting no later than 3:20, and school ended at 3:10.  So, that gave me ten minutes to gather everything and mentally prepare myself to listen to Joshua try to flirt with Lillian and make fun of my passion for filming.  Excellent.  I pushed the last of my folders into my backpack then slung it over my shoulders.  I turned on my camera before shutting my locker and quickly took off at a slow jog to an area by the gym where the boys’ and girls’ locker rooms resided.

            Thankfully, I arrived at 3:18, so Lillian didn’t give me one of her long lectures about the disadvantages of being tardy.  Looking to her, she truly looked like a journalist getting ready for a big story.  A pencil was tucked behind her ear and a notebook clutched tightly to her chest.  A serious light was held firmly on her eyes, though an undertone of excitement played behind all that seriousness.  Once again, she was her expressive self.  Joshua wasn’t there just yet, so she leaned towards me.

“Okay, so after this interview, I told Alexandra we’d meet her at the front entrance of the school at 3:30, and we’ll meet Dimberlin at 3:40 in her classroom.”  She said quickly and I nodded.

“Alright.”

            After our exchange, Joshua Esten made his entrance and sauntered up to us.  It was almost odd to see him without his posse behind him. I raised my camera, starting the video tape to catch the rare sight of Josh being alone for once.  It was quite the moment.  His eyes shifted to me, and I could almost see the taunt wanting to spill from his lips. However, his blue eyes darted to Lillian for a moment and I was unable to hold back a light smirk.  He didn’t want to look bad in front of her.  It was actually pretty funny, since it wasn’t as if she didn’t know of his abuse towards me.    

“Hi Josh.  Thanks for agreeing to do this interview.”  Lillian spoke to him with a pleasant smile and he stopped before her, not even registering my existence, which wasn’t really a surprise.  Honestly, I liked it that way.

“Not a problem, beautiful.  Go ahead and ask away.”  Josh grinned to her.  I kept the camera position to the side of Lillian and a little behind her, but the angle allowed me to capture both Josh and Lillian in the shot.  At his statement, I could tell that Lillian seemed rather annoyed by the title he gave her, however, she played it off well. I could simply tell because I was close to her. 

“Alright.  So it is true that you send new football recruits to the old art museum and lock them in for thirty minutes?”  She asked, pulling the pencil from her hair and holding it at ready before her notebook. 

“Well, I won’t lie and say that I haven’t done that old ritual before to a few new recruits.”  He spoke in response, clearly trying to hide the truth. Obviously, he did the initiations based off of that answer.  However, Josh knew Lillian’s position at the head of the school’s newspaper, so he probably didn’t want new football recruits to know about the initiation.  Lilly scrawled down his quote word for word on her paper before looking back up at him.

“So, you know about the old building.  You’ve been there, I mean.”  She spoke and Josh nodded and gave her a charming smile.

“That’s right.”

“Great.  So, what are your thoughts about it being haunted?”  She said, her pencil poised towards the paper as she waited for him to speak.  Josh was actually silent for a moment, and I zoomed my camera closer to his face.

“Well…the recruits that have come back from their thirty minutes usually run out when we open the door, saying they never want to come back to the place.  When we asked them what happened, they say that they heard voices, footsteps, things scratching on wood and felt like they were being watched the entire time.  I mean, these guys are pretty hard to scare, but that old place always seems to freak them out.”  He said, actually looking serious for once.  I fought the urge to roll my eyes.  Clearly, Joshua Esten was hardly a reliable source.  He just wanted to get on Lillian’s good side.  Even if what he was saying was true, there was still a big chance those men had lied about their paranormal experience just to get attention. 

“Interesting, interesting,” Lillian murmured as she scribbled down the rest of his quote and glanced up at him, “Was there anything in particular that had happened that freaked them out?  You said they heard voices, footsteps and all that, but was there anything really distinguished?” 

“Yeah.  Apparently the voices constantly giggled, like children playing a game, and would ask ‘Will you be our friend?’ and ‘Will you play with us?’ over and over again.  Pretty creepy, if you ask me.”  Josh said, and I adjusted the view of my camera so both Lillian and Josh could be seen.

“One last question.  Do you believe the art museum to be haunted?”  She asked and Josh nodded immediately. 

“Oh, definitely.  The whole place is totally creepy, and I trust what my teammates say.  I wouldn’t ever want to go in that place.”  He said with a small smile.

“And yet, you lock the new members of your football team in the building?  That seems a little hypocritical, doesn’t it?” I spoke up, earning a small warning look from Lillian and an angry glare from Joshua. 

“Hey, shut your mouth, dweeb.  I’m giving Lillian an interview, not you, Westfield.” He snapped.

“I’m just saying.  If you’re too scared to go into the building, then it seems a little wrong to lock your teammates in it, don’t you think?”  I answered, zooming in on his face.

“I don’t have to answer that.  Shut your camera off, Westfield.”  Josh growled and Lillian quickly stepped in. 

“Thanks for your time, Joshua, that’s all I need.”  She said quickly, and he gave a nod to her and pushed his hand through his golden locks.  I ended the video and lowered my camera at that moment.

“Yeah. See ya around, Lillian,” He said, acting all cool before turning around and going into the boys’ locker room.  As he was out of sight, Lillian turned towards me and grabbed my hand as she pulled me along towards the front entrance of the school for our next interview. 

“You seriously had to say something, Elliot?”  She sighed and I smiled at her lightly.

“Oh, come on, Lilly. You wanted to ask the same thing, right?  I mean, if he respects his teammates so much, why would he lock them in a building he is scared of for thirty minutes?  I mean, it isn’t that surprising for him to do it considering how much of a jerk he is, but still.”  I said defensively.

“Even so, you shouldn’t have provoked him like that.  You knew it would make him mad.”  She accused and I remained silent.  Well…yeah that was a little true.  I knew he wouldn’t like the question, but I actually had been interested if he would answer.  I should have known that he wouldn’t have, but I had been genuinely curious. 

            The two of us made it to the front entrance at around 3:27.  Already, Alexandra was waiting, constantly checking her watch which showed her impatience.  Alexandra was a short girl with short blonde hair and serious gray eyes.  Her foot tapped rhythmically on the ground as we approached.  I quickly lift my camera and begin to record.  I could cut out the beginning of it later if it was needed.

“Thanks for meeting with me, Alexandra.”  Lillian said politely.

“Yeah, no problem, just make it quick.”  Alexandra responded in a rushed voice.

“Alright.  What do you think about the old art museum?”  Lillian asked quickly.

“It looks creepy, but that’s all there is to it.”  Alexandra responded.

“Surely you have heard the ghost stories surrounding the place though.  What do you think about that?” 

“Look.  Teenagers are hungry for attention, and created those stories to get it.  That’s all it is.  All of their stories are so bizarre that it isn’t even believable, or it has a practical explanation.  Clearly, the old art museum isn’t haunted.”  She sniffed matter-of-factly.

“Given that you believe these claims of it being haunted to not be true; would you ever go into the building?”  Lillian asked and Alexandra looked a little annoyed at the question.

“Of course.  I’m not scared of an old, abandoned hunk of stone.  I just don’t have the want or the time to go inside of it.  Now, are we done?  I have a Debate Club meeting that I really must be getting to.”  She said, glancing to her watch. Lillian nodded and gave her a friendly smile.

“Yes, that’s all.  Thank you for your time, Alexandra.”  She said and I stopped the recording and watched as Alexandra simply raised her hand to show she heard then quickly strode off towards a parked car.  Lillian wrote down a few more things before placing the pencil back behind her ear and sighed.

“Why do I get the feeling that she doesn’t like me that much?” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t look into it.  Alexandra treats everyone basically the same way.”  I say to her lightly and she sighed, glancing down at the quotes.

“Yeah, I guess she does.”  She said, sounding a little downcast.  It was unlike Lilly to seem down, so I slung an arm around her shoulders.

“Hey!  We still need to go see Dimberlin, right?  Let’s go get that interview on the road.” I said optimistically.  My positive attitude seemed to lift her back up and her eyes lightened up and a smile beamed on her lips. 

“You are absolutely correct, Elliot!  Let us go onward!”  She exclaimed energetically before walking back into the building, leaving me no choice but to follow her through the school’s doors and towards the old art teacher’s room. 

            Upon entering Mrs. Dimberlin’s room, the sight of extremely colorful abstract paintings and an abundance of stuffed flamingoes came into view.  If you asked me, the whole place looks as if a rainbow covered in the pink birds threw up all over it.  To finish the onslaught of random colors, Mrs. Dimberlin herself was clothed in a huge array of them.  She wore a light blue dress that was covered in yellow, pink, red and purple flowers, bright pink shoes, and a large, floppy purple hat.  Her regular bright red glasses were settled on the end of her nose with golden chains coming from the ends.  At the moment, she was holding a painting only a few centimeters away from her face, studying it, only to write a large ‘A’ on the rubric before her and stapled the paper to the painting.  She must have heard our footsteps, because she then looked over and squinted her eyes a little before smiling.

“Ms. Keaton and Mr. Westfield!  You were the ones who wanted an interview, correct?”  She asked brightly, hobbling over to them.

“That would be correct, Mrs. Dimberlin.”  Lillian said warmly, pulling the pencil from behind her ear and holding up her notebook.  I quickly started my camera, but said nothing.  I never have been great at social interactions like Lillian was, so I decided to just remain silent.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road then!”  The Old Bird beamed, standing before them expectantly.

“Ok, so after taking some of your classes, I noticed how you would talk about the old art museum quite a bit.  Why is that?” Lillian asked, and the bright smile from Mrs. Dimberlin’s face fell.

“That place should not be as disrespected as it is!  I am trying to show my students that while it is quite a bit old, it should still remain in their high regards!”  She said fiercely.

“Why is that, exactly?”  Lillian then asked.

“There are precious paintings in there that don’t need to be messed up by teenagers who don’t respect them.  I say leave the place alone to rest!”  She said sharply and I blinked.  I’ve never seen Dimberlin act like this before.  She was always so easygoing and soft-spoken.  Hearing her raise her voice at all, well…this is actually the first time I have ever heard it. 

“Okay, just one more questi-”

“No, no more questions.  I am much too upset.  I am sorry, Ms. Keaton and Mr. Westfield, but I must take my leave for the day.”  She sighed, then hobbled past them to grab her light, bright green jacket, throw it on, then left the room in a rush.  Well, as much as a rush can be for someone her age. 

Lillian and I looked to each other then back to the door, “Well, that was weird.”  I spoke and she nodded.

“Seriously weird.  Well…I guess there isn’t much we can do about it now.  Time to go home then,” She breathed.

            Lillian and I walked out of Dimberlin’s room and the school, soon on our walking path back to our houses.  Instead of our usual banter or conversations, we were both quiet.  I wasn’t sure what Lilly was thinking, but I was brooding over how Mrs. Dimberlin had reacted to the whole thing.  The thought was unsettling, and I couldn’t help but get the feeling there was more to it than Dimberlin spoke of.

Lillian and I parted ways with a simple goodbye and I returned home shortly after that.  Immediately, I turned off my camera and plugged it in to charge then began my homework.  The rest of my evening was rather uneventful, and I’m not going to explain all of it in explicit detail.  The summary is this: homework, dinner, homework, shower, pretend to go to bed, wait till parents fall asleep. Now, I had to accomplish the sneaking out portion of the night, which was what intimidated me the most.  Taking a deep breath, I slowly swung my legs over the side of my bed and stood up.  Already, I was dressed in cargo pants, a black long sleeved shirt and a gray jacket.  Even my running shoes were laced up.  The faster I got out of the house, the better, and I hadn’t wanted to spend my time by getting prepared, so I had gotten everything ready earlier.  I crept from my room and towards the small staircase that led downstairs.  Each step made me wince when the smallest of creaks would sound off, or if the house made any kind of sounds for that matter.  I constantly shifted my eyes to my parents’ bedroom, expecting them to open their door and catch me at any moment. 

When my shoes hit the ground floor, and neither my mother nor father had stirred, I paused for a moment before continuing on, my heart racing in my chest.  Now all I needed to do was grab my camera and slip outside.  I go into the kitchen and take my camera from the charger then walked to the backdoor.  Swallowing hard, I reached my hand out and grabbed the doorknob and turned it before pulling the door out. It squeaked only a little bit, but not loudly by any means.  Taking a shaky breath, I sucked in my air and squeezed through the rather small opening I had made before carefully and quietly closing the door. 

Silence settled between me and the house and I paused.  My heart pounded so loudly, I was almost scared the whole neighborhood could hear it.  My eyes shifted around the house, expecting to see the dim yellow light of a lamp coming on or something.  After a few minutes standing there, frozen like a statue, nothing happened.  A small smile crossed over my features and I let out a big breath that I hadn’t realized I had been holding.  Then, I spun on my heels and ran off to the old art museum.  Lillian and I had agreed to meet at the old building’s entrance, so there was no need for me to wait for her or anything.  As I bounded down the empty sidewalk, it struck me just how eerie everything seemed at the moment.  No one was out and the only sound was the slapping of my shoes against the pavement and the rustling of leaves falling from the trees.  Osdenburg seemed like a ghost town.

“Took you long enough, Elliot!”  A voice called and I looked over, seeing Lillian standing beneath the light of a street lamp that was in front of the old art museum’s entrance.  Smiling, I walked over to her.

“Sorry.  I haven’t exactly done this before.”  I pointed out to her and she shrugged.

“I know, I know.  Okay, are you ready for this?”  She asked, her voice containing her usual excitement. 

I looked past her and to the art museum behind her.  There was an old iron fence in front of it, but the gate just wailed and swung freely in the light breeze.  The art museum rested on top of a small hill, so we had to walk up the small road, but that wasn’t really much of a problem.  The museum itself seemed to have looked grand a long time ago, with its marble columns and stone floor.  Now, cracks covered every inch of it, and it looked almost as if it could crumble away at any moment. Overgrown ivy swirled around the pillars and had begun to grow onto the walls.  The whole place seemed terribly daunting, and for a moment, I felt a small shred of nervousness rise inside of me.  However, I pushed it from my mind and turned my camera on.

“Obviously.  Let’s get this over with so I can sleep.”  I said and she gave a small laugh before walking forwards. 

I hit the recording button on my camera as we marched up the swinging gates and squeezed past them, easily continuing our journey up the rest of the small hill and to the entrance of the art museum.  As we came up to it and walked up the cracked stone steps and before a rotten wooden door, I swallowed hard.  It was Lillian who slowly pushed on the door.  Slowly, inch by inch, it creaked open.  Lillian opened her small bag and pulled out a flashlight, and I activated the night vision on my camera.  Then, we walked in. 

“Wow.”  Lillian breathed, sweeping the beam of her flashlight around the interior of the art museum. 

I had to agree with her small statement of amazement as I took in the surroundings.  For such a torn down place on the outside, it was oddly grand on the inside.  Paintings hung on the walls, all seeming to be in good condition despite their age and lack of care.  The tiles underfoot were dusty, but not cracked like it was on the outside.  The marble columns were magnificent and in good condition, each reflecting the flashlight’s beam as it swept across.   The square room resembled a ballroom filled with paintings, and at the end of the hallway was a grand staircase that led to the second floor, which went around the sides of the ballroom with paintings hung on the wall.  The odd part about the whole thing was that if it used to be an art museum, wouldn’t there be other things besides paintings?  Not a single statue was in sight, or a sketch.  Just paintings. 

            Lillian seemed at a loss of words, and I was much too nervous to break the silence.  The place had a creepy feeling, and I instantly wanted to walk out.  However, my good friend was, once again, opposite of me, and a wide smile spread across her lips and she stepped forwards and away from the door.  Sighing lightly, I followed her rather reluctantly, keeping the camera on her.  As we got to about the middle of the room, a loud bang echoed and I jumped, swiveling around and fixing my camera where the sound had come from.  The doors at the front entrance had closed. 

“Must have been a draft.”  I mumbled, thinking back to how the wind had been outside before we came in. 

“Don’t be so jumpy.  I thought you said that ghosts weren’t real.”  Lillian taunted and I gave her a forlorn look. 

“They aren’t, but I’m not going to deny that this place gives me the creeps.”  I respond and she waved my words off with a small flick of her hand. 

“Like we said before, Elliot, it’s just an old building.  Come on, I want to look at the paintings.”  She said, unable to hide the curiosity and excitement in her voice. 

With that, the brown haired girl ran off to the first picture on the side and I followed her warily.  As we approached the picture, she shone her flashlight on it and I blinked.  The picture was really…weird.  It was a painting of a girl in a white dress that had holes in the ends.  Her back was facing the viewer and she was curled into a ball in the corner of an empty room.  At the very edge of the painting was a small blotch of pink paint in the shape of some kind of symbol.  I quickly wrote it off, deciding that it was just the artist’s signature. 

            Lillian and I went down the line of the paintings.  Every single one of them was weird, creepy or just plain disturbing.  For example, one showed a girl dancing in a garden, except her arms were thorny vines.  One was of a man up on a podium, as though he were giving a speech, except his lips were sewn shut, and small trails of blood were shown going from his lips down to his chin.  Another was of a woman who looked as though she were screaming out in pain and had her hands clutched against her chest, as though she were trying to keep her heart from falling out.  In the painting, blood was running from between her fingers. That’s only three of them too.  Lillian and I came across about ten, all of them giving me a daunting feeling each time I passed.  We then came to a painting that showed three little kids skipping and laughing in a circle while a fire blazed around them and their skin charred. 

“They are all so freakishly disturbing.”  I whisper to Lillian and she nods. 

“Yeah…they seriously are.”  She said, and I saw her give a small shudder.  She started to move on to the next and I turned to follow her. 

“Will you play with us?” A voice whispered right next to my ear.  It sounded like the owner of it was a female kid no older than five, maybe.  My whole body stiffened, and my heart began to race as my hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood up.  I quickly swung around, my eyes wide and wild as I tried to see who the owner of it was.  Nothing.  There was nothing there. 

“What…” I breathed, only to hear the light scamper of feet to my left and a giggle. 

 “Elliot, are you coming or not?”  Lillian called.  By this time, my breathing had quickened and my heart was beating about a hundred times a second.  My hand that was clutching the camera was shaking.  I quickly walk to Lillian and grab her arm.

“We’re leaving.  I’m done with this place.”  I say shakily, starting to pull her towards the door.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!  Elliot, relax!  Listen-” She exclaimed, pulling her arm from me. 

“No, you listen.  This place is not normal, and I want to leave.  There is a little girl in here, and it’s freaking me out.”  I said lowly and she stared at me for a moment.

“A little girl?  Elliot, what are you talking about?”

“A voice spoke in me ear, Lilly, and it was definitely-” I cut off as light crying filled the room. 

Lillian’s eyes widened, and I saw a small spark of fear in them.  It was coming from behind me.  I slowly turned around and Lillian raised her flashlight slowly until it rested on a small form in a corner. It was a little girl.  Her black hair hid her face and her arms were wrapped around her knees.  She was wearing a ragged white dress.  Something about her looked really familiar…however, my thoughts stopped as Lillian walked towards her.

“Lilly, stop!  Get back here and let’s go!”  I hiss to her, and she glared at me from over her shoulder before approaching the kid.  I swallowed hard, as she did and, step by step, started walking towards them, keeping my camera on Lilly and this little girl.

“Hi sweetie.  Why are you crying?”  Lillian spoke in a gentle voice and the sobbing came to an abrupt end.  The little girl didn’t say anything, and I could only see the child’s and Lillian’s back. 

“Will you be my friend?” A little girl’s voice rang out in this eerily soft voice, and Lillian screamed rather abruptly and fell back from the girl along with dropping her flashlight.  Instantly, I ran up to her and crouched down, resting my hands on her shoulders.

“What happened?”  I demanded, and Lillian looked at me with these scared, wide eyes. 

“T-The girl! Sh-She doesn’t have any..any eyes!”  She said, and I was able to feel a light trembling in her body. 

“What?”  I said, horrified at the thought.  I got up and walked to where the flashlight had dropped and picked it up.  I shone it in the corner…but it was empty.

“Okay.  Elliot let’s go.”  Lillian said in a small voice, walking up and wrapping her arms around my right arm, which was the one that wasn’t holding the camera. 

            She didn’t have to tell me twice. Right as she said that, I strode to the front doors as fast as I could with Lillian.  As we were about to reach them, a thorny vine slithered from the shadows and wrapped around the handles, locking them together.  The sound of light footsteps caught my attention and I looked over, seeing a girl walking up.  She had this wide, creepy smile plastered on her face…and her arms were vines. 

“Why are you leaving so soon?”

“Oh my god…Elliot, she was in that one painting.” Lillian said, her voice shaking.  I quickly pull Lillian back with me and I shone the flashlight back on the paintings. 

            The first painting we saw with the little girl sitting in the corner was missing a very important aspect.  The little girl was gone.  I swept the beam across the other paintings.  One of the little kids who were dancing in the fire was missing and the girl with the vines for arms was gone as well.  Suddenly, my flashlight rested on the one of a man with his lips sewn shut and my mouth opened into a gape of horror.  The man whose lips were sewn shut was no longer behind the podium, but reaching out of the painting.  Slowly, its face came from the depths of the picture and into the real world, where it slowly turned, as though it were a badly oiled machine, and it fixed its black, bottomless eyes on me and Lillian. 

            More and more of these things came out of the paintings, every single one disfigured, creepy, disturbing or even all three.  They slowly crept towards us, giggles and sobs alike echoing into the air as they pushed Lilly and I back into a corner.  As our backs hit the wall, I swallow hard and put myself in front of Lillian, who was clutching at my shirt in terror.  My body trembled faintly as I gazed at the monstrous creatures before me, still coming closer and closer.  Suddenly, I watched as all of them came to an abrupt stop and silence filled the art museum.  All the creatures’ cold and bottomless eyes were fixed on me and Lillian before their voices, all of which sounding like a single entity, rose into the air.

“Will you be our friend?”

I shuddered as they said this, and a sudden burst of anger filled me, “Like hell we’re going to be your friends!”  I shouted at them, angry for being in this situation and angry that these things were keeping both me and Lilly here.  I wanted to leave.  I wanted to go home and if I got in trouble for sneaking out, I would gladly take the punishment for my actions.  I wanted to be anywhere but here.

            In that instant, this freak show turned into a horror show.  Rage filled the creatures’ faces and they all began screaming this absolutely horrific, demonic shriek.  Their mouths had unhinged like those of a vipers’ and they all rushed forwards to us.  I closed my eyes, not wanting to watch.  Lillian’s screams echoed in my ears…and then we were ripped apart.  I could feel hands cold as ice clawing at my face, arms, shirt…everywhere.  Lillian’s screams echoed in the room, some calling my name and others just bloodcurdling, followed by the sickening sound of bones snapping.  As I was being tugged around everywhere and cut by who knows what, I dropped my camera somewhere along the way. 

            Suddenly the chaos stopped.  I was face down on the ground, curled into a ball.  I could feel my blood dripping from the scratches and cuts along my body.  I realized then, that I was crying.  Amidst the entire struggle, I hadn’t even noticed.  Slowly, I raised my head, but those creatures were still there. All of them standing around me in a circle and staring.  A few giggles suddenly rang out and I shook my head, sobs escaping my lips.

“Stop…please stop.”  I cried, and the three little girls who had been dancing in the fire in their picture, materialized around me, each holding hands.  As they began to skip around me, fire danced from their feet.

“Ring around the rosy…”

            So this was it. 

“Pocket full of posies…”

            I had plans for my future.  I was going to become a filmmaker.

“Ashes,”

            Now it was all gone.  I wasted it, and for what?  To prove whether some stupid tale was true or not?

“Ashes,”

            I could feel the fire burning my skin and charring it as it engulfed me.  Lillian, who was lying in a broken heap, was only slightly in my vision through the orange flames.  She had so much promise in life.

“We all fall…”

            I lifted my burning eyes up as the flames licked my face then closed my eyes, saying my goodbyes and waiting for the end.

“Down.”

            Darkness…then…nothing.

            Elliot Westfield and Lillian Keaton lied dead on the ground of the art museum.  The little girls stopped their skipping, and the figures all simply stood there, as if uncertain what to do.  The sound of the footsteps near the front door caught their attention, however, and they all as one being looked towards it.  As the doors swung open, a single figure stood in the doorway.   The figure hobbled in and stood before the group, setting their hands on their hips with a sigh. 

“How very naughty you all have been.”  The old lady scolded and the painting figures all ducked their heads.

“They wouldn’t be our friends.”

“Oh, my dears…I guess we will just have to make them your friends then, won’t we?” The old lady said with a gentle smile and the creatures of the paintings all got an almost excited look to them.

            Most of the paintings returned to their pictures, but a few remained.  They went up the grand staircase and returned back to the floor level with a large blank portrait in their hands.  They set it on the ground then dragged the bodies of Elliot and Lillian to the portrait before setting them down beside it.  The old lady took out two bowls and a knife from a bag.  With the knife, she cut Elliot’s wrist then set his bleeding, motionless hand in the bowl then did the same to Lillian.  After she got a decent amount of blood from each, the lady then took out a paintbrush and began to paint using their blood.  With Elliot’s, she painted the boy standing with a camera before a wall of what seemed to be fire, which divided the portrait in half.  With Lillian’s she drew the girl like she was a puppet or a doll with a pencil in hand.  Each figure in the drawing was facing towards the other.  Once this was done, she pulled back and the figures that had been watching picked up Elliot and Lillian then dropped them onto the bloody portrait.  Instead of them just hitting it, they disappeared into the depths of the canvas, and it suddenly started drawing itself.  The two figures became Elliot and Lillian, showing the state they were in, but put in the way the old lady had wanted them to be seen as.  Elliot was depicted in more baggy kind of clothes, though he held a camera and seemed to have a sad look in his eyes as he gazed to the wall of fire.  Lillian was put in a white dress, sitting broken on the ground with all of her broken bones evident.  A knife had been used to carve a smile that went all the way up to her ears.  Her hair was put in a light pink bow, and a pencil was carefully held in the broken figners of her left hand as she stretched it towards the wall of fire.  The background of the painting even shaped itself, which was simply black nothingness on Lillian’s side, and a soot gray background for Elliot’s with small sparks of fire around him as well. 

“Perfect!  Now you can all be friends!” The old lady said happily then took out pink paint and a small paintbrush.  To the corner of the new painting, she drew a small pink mark, the mark Elliot had previously noticed on the paintings earlier.  If one really looked at it closely enough, it seemed to be in the shape of a flamingo. 

 

Author's Note

This is my first short story, so I'm curious on how I did and what I could improve. Thanks!

Reviews

[Rachel McLean]

I think that this was a really good story. You might want to change the word 'spontaneous' though. I don't think that's the right word that you were going for. Maybe try something like 'her acting was spectacular.' Of course, unless you meant something like spontaneous, in which case, sorry about that. Oh and in this line “I mean, I’m excited, I just don’t think we’re going to find anything. It’s just a creepy old building.", I think you should maybe change a couple of words. You said just in two sentences that were right next to each other. If you want, you could also try combining the two into something like: "Of course, I'm excited. It's just that I don't think we'll find anything in a creepy old building." I really like your take on this, and be sure to keep on writing! I hope I was of some help!