People in The Paintings

Aram moves into his Aunt Clara's mansion shortly after his parents are killed in an accident. He soon comes to realize that there is more than meets the eye at this house.

When Aram was young he would walk the long twisting hallways of his great Aunt Clara’s home looking, wide eyed, at the paintings hanging on the wall. All of the people painted looked sad and angry, Aram would look into their eyes and feel hollow inside. For some reason he was always scared of the paintings. As he walked away their eyes never followed him nor would the paintings speak, because after all, they were only old paintings. Aram loved to be scared as a child, he would read scary stories before bed, watch horror movies when his parents were sleeping, and he’d always leave his closet open a crack at night for his imagination to run wild. As he grew older the halls of Aunt Clara’s house got smaller and so did his fear of the paintings. On his 18th birthday, a few days after he graduated high school, Aram’s parents were at a small office party when the building they were in caught fire. The building collapsed and authorities were only able to recover a few of the bodies. The rest of the missing people were assumed to be dead.

Aram didn’t have a solid plan for after high school, and at this point he had nowhere to go. He moved in with his Aunt Clara and took the attic as his room. Clara tried her hardest to comfort him, but she couldn’t hide that she was just as devastated. Her house was a very old mansion that stood on top of a hill. For miles in every direction her family had owned the land for hundreds of years. The land and everything on it was left to Clara when her parents died sometime in the 1973. When she moved in the paintings were hanging on the walls with sheets over them. She never planned on selling them, nor was she interested in what they were worth. They were old paintings of her ancestors, the ones who bought the land and built the decadent home. Each and every one of the paintings bore the same similarity, a certain sadness and frustration in the eyes.

There was virtually no documentation on the home, and the artist remained anonymous. The paintings were very large and extravagant and hung about five feet apart down all of the halls in the second story of the house. The entire house was painted a tired gray color and the whole building looked fairly weathered, Clara never redecorated or remodeled she only cleaned and maintained. Aram’s room was on the third story of the home and he had the whole floor to himself. Some of the room was occupied by the wiring and storage of old furniture and miscellaneous housewares. His parents home wasn’t even close to half the size of Clara’s house. At night he would sit in his room and look through his one bay window at the back of the room. He could see into the dark forest and it brought him a sense of peace mixed with fear. After a few weeks of secluding himself in the attic Aram started to explore the house a little bit more thoroughly than he had in the years of visiting before. Clara was happy to see him up and about the house and didn’t bother to question where he was going or what he was doing.

In the months after his parents death Aram had covered most of the house and looked through most of the things being stored in the attic. He played around with old pianos and even used some of the old furniture to make his room a little less cavernous. There were old cars being stored in a shed behind the house and Clara said that a few of them worked. She told Aram that he could take his pick from one of the vehicles so he could get around the town and not feel so isolated at the house. He chose the newest looking car that was a 1993 shiny black sedan. It definitely wasn’t the newest of cars but it was in good shape and had low mileage. He began driving around town to see what the barren place had to offer. In the days after he got the car, he got a job at a small diner in the downtown area that was only two blocks from the library. Aram had been spending a lot of time at the library reading Joyce Carol Oates and Edgar Allen Poe to wrap himself in fictional macabre stories instead of his own macabre life.

For months he tried to distract, and build something of a life for himself in the town but he couldn’t seem to get any closure for his parents death. He started not being able to sleep at night and staying up in his room reading. He eventually tired of his nightly routine and decided he needed to do something different before he went insane. One night, Aram went downstairs and found Clara staring at the painting that hung above the fireplace in the formal living room. He asked “Aunt Clara? What are you doing up so late?” She turned around startled and replied “Oh! Aram I didn’t know you were still up. I like to look at these paintings sometimes and guess who the men and women are.” This statement took Aram by surprise, he always thought that Clara knew who the people in the paintings were. He walked over next to her and looked at the painting. It was an older man with gray hair and a very tired face, his eyes had the same sadness and frustration as all of the other paintings. Aram asked “So you mean you don’t know who the people in the paintings are?” Clara let out a tired laugh and replied “No not at all, I was told these are my ancestors. I’ve got no idea who any of them are, I keep the pictures around because… well honestly I’m scared to take them down.”

Throughout his life Aram was told that his great Aunt wasn’t all there, she had been through alot in her lifetime. Whenever she said something that sounded off, he was told not to question her because it was disrespectful. Now that his parents weren’t there, he wanted to delve deeper into the mind of his hackneyed Aunt. Aram asked “Why would you be afraid to move paintings, there is plenty of room up in the attic?” She slowly looked around the room and her eyes began darting, she licked her lips, softened her voice and replied “The people who watch from the paintings would get rather mad, don’t you agree?” At that point Aram felt that he may have bit off more than he could chew with this. He looked at her confused at a loss for words, she took notice and continued “You can’t tell me that even when you were young you didn’t notice the eyes in the paintings?” This shook Aram to the core, his whole life he had looked into the eyes of the paintings, the people, hanging on the walls. He cleared his throat and said “Honestly Aunt Clara, I have looked into the eyes of the paintings for as long as I can remember. They are intricately painted and they all have the same sadness to them, but they are only paintings..”

Clara looked up into Aram’s eyes and said, “The eyes are the windows to the soul, have you looked into your own lately?” Before Aram could answer Clara walked away and into her bedroom. What she said left him scared and confused, he tried to rationalize that she was just an old women but the eyes in the paintings had been disturbing Aram for most of his life. He walked up to the second story and began roaming the halls. As he walked the conversation with Clara resonated in his mind. He peered into the eyes of each of the paintings and felt like he was being watched. Aram felt utterly ridiculous and began to get frustrated he said to himself “People in the paintings? Are you kidding me? It’s just paint on canvas nothing else.” Aram reached out to touch a painting of an old woman who sat upright like she was proud but still had the same eyes. He stroked the canvas and felt the texture, the tips of his fingers felt electric and he became enthralled in the detail. Aram looked around and decided he would take this painting down, only for a moment, then put it right back.

As he reached his fingers around the left side of the frame it sprung open like a door on a hinge, behind the painting there was a long corridor dimly lit with an eerie red light. His eyes scanned the hall for a source of the glow but to no avail. He closed the painting and it shut back in place with a click. Aram quickly made his way back into the living room and tried to open the painting in there as well. It opened with a crack and a groan, the hole in the wall revealed a small attic ladder and the same eerie corridor. Aram lowered the ladder and it came down over the mantle and rested on the floor. He looked at his clear path into the bones of the house and contemplated this exploration. Aram debated whether or not he should ask his Aunt about these hidden hallways. He decided not to because if she already knew about this, she didn’t want him to know. On the other hand, if she didn’t know, this could send her fragile mind over the edge. Aram decided he needed to be better prepared before he walked those halls, so he closed the painting and went back upstairs to his room.

He pulled out some history books and old newspaper clippings about his town that he picked up from the library. Scouring them for everything he could find about the house and the land, he was at a loss.  All that he found was a small article about a body recovered in the woods on the property, the body wasn’t identified and the cause of death was believed to be suicide. Aram wasn’t very concerned about this considering the massive amount of land surrounding the house. Other than that he found no information on the house besides a few maps and blueprints. None of which had any mention of hallways inside the walls. Aram grabbed a flashlight and his bookbag and headed downstairs. When he reached the living room he felt a sudden shift in temperature and got chills down his spine. He walked slowly towards the painting, opened it up, and lowered the ladder. Aram ascended the ladder and began walking in the corridor, his footsteps echoed and he could hear his own heart beat. There were doors lining the corridor that lead to longer and darker hallways. Arams was baffled that there was this much extra space in the mansion. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard other footsteps from the right, he turned his head quickly and was met with a door.

This door was different from the others. For one, it was painted red and had a light hanging above it as well as a doormat outside of it. There was a space for a key but it looked rusted and broken. At this point the only reservations Aram had were getting lost in these halls, he hadn’t truly been scared since his parents died. He pushed on the door and it gave way with a massive creak and settling sounds from in the walls. The room was pitch black and he couldn’t see more than two inches in front of his face. He aimed the flashlight into the room and saw two chairs and a pile of newspapers. There was one light that looked like it went out long ago, he inhaled the stench of must and age. Aram crossed the room to a pull chain and pulled it, to his surprise the entire maze of hallways was lit up. As he looked around in the new light, he saw a painting that stretched from floor to ceiling. He immediately pulled on it and it opened up into a room with a pool, not a swimming pool but a reflection pool. There was a bridge across the water that lead to a small rectangular table with a chest on it. The water in the pool had a red tint to it and all that was visible was a reflection of his face, he saw no bottom.

Aram crossed the bridge and opened the chest, inside he found a cloth for the table as well as candles, small golden idols of a female and a male, a bell, a mortar and pestle, miscellaneous herbs in bags, a chalice and silver dishes. There were matches at the bottom as well as paintbrushes and a gooey red liquid. Aram was alarmed by the site of the liquid, he assumed it was blood. He bent down to sniff it and got an overwhelming whiff of essential oils and incense. Whatever the liquid was, it surely was not blood. At the back corner of the room he saw the backs of canvases leaning up against the walls. He walked to them and turned them around, tears came to his eyes. Aram first saw a portrait of his mother, she looked to be in her early twenties but she was wearing the same outfit she had on the night she died. The other portrait was of his father, young, but in the outfit he had on when he died. There were piles of blank canvas stacked on the floor. He looked through some of them and it seemed that there were unfinished paintings, one resembling him and one resembling his Aunt Clara.

Overwhelmed with confusion and frustration Aram ran out from the hallways and back into the house. He closed the paintings, put the ladder away, and ran back up to his room. Aram sat on his bed staring at his ceiling wondering what was going on. All he could think of was to figure out what the significance of the items he found were. Aram tried to research why those things would be together in a box. He found a lot about Paganism and altars on the internet, he quickly came to realize that he wouldn’t be able to find a specific ritual or spell performed without specifics on what happens in that room. Aram knew that he would have to delve deeper into those halls even if it meant delving deeper into his mind.

The following night as soon as he heard Clara’s bedroom door shut Aram got up, grabbed his flashlight and his bag and he went downstairs. He decided to choose a picture in the hallway. He chose a painting of a young man with deep blue eyes and black hair. Aram pulled the picture open and looked down the familiar hallway. This time he closed the picture behind him incase Clara got up for any reason. This hallway had a stench hanging limply around it, the smell reminded Aram of rotting food. He walked forward and came to a door on the back wall and a longer hall that went left and right. The door in front of him had a name etched into it that read “Bryan Woodridge.” The door wasn’t locked so Aram pushed it open, inside there was a mutilated corpse hanging from the wall. The remaining skin looked sickly gray and the body looked like it had been stripped of flesh and muscle. The skin on the face was still intact but the eyes were missing. This man hanging on the wall was unmistakably the man in the painting Aram entered through.

Aram gagged and backed out of the room closing the door behind him, he continued walking left until he came to the next door on the back wall.  This door had the name “Lillian Woodridge” etched into it. Aram knew that if he opened the door he would see the familiar old woman hanging from the wall. He continued walking until he got to the end of the hall where he came to a light blue door with a copper doorknob. This door had a lock as well, which was rusted and broken. He opened the door to a room with a table full of candles, a few chairs, and a bed. There were no paintings in here but there was a very thin window looking out into the woods. As Aram peered out the window he heard a young woman’s kind voice “You must be Aram.” He turned around fast and saw the face of a beautiful young woman with raven black hair and ivory skin. Aram was drawn to the woman’s eyes, her irises were gray and her pupils were blue. He cleared his throat and said “Wh- who… are you?” he took a few steps towards her and stopped when she started speaking. She replied “My name is Lilly, you’re in my room.”

Aram’s head cocked to the side and he asked “You live in the walls. The walls of my Aunts house?” Lilly giggled and replied “This could never be a person’s home, this is my museum of souls.” Her reply startled Aram and he began to think he was dealing with a crazy person. He took another step forward, reached his hand towards her and said “I think we should go talk to my Aunt-” Before his fingers made contact with Lilly’s shoulder her eyes turned black and Aram flew into the wall and slid to the floor. In a disembodied, deep voice Lilly said “I don’t think you should touch me” with her words the candles blew out and they were left in darkness. Aram fumbled for his flashlight, turned it on, and pointed it in Lilly’s direction. She was gone, and the door no longer lead to the hall, instead, the door lead into the room with the reflection pool. Lilly was there with Clara and they were leaning over the altar mixing something in a bowl. Aram slowly walked towards Clara and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned around her eyes were gray with blue pupils and she said “I’m glad you’ve met the people in the paintings. I can finally show you the family trade.”

Aram looked at the scene with tears in his eyes, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Clara noticed Aram’s confusion and started speaking “Look, I know that all of this probably seems a little weird. Our family was given a gift hundreds of years ago, it was given to us by Lilly.” She motioned towards Lilly, who was still intently mixing whatever was in the bowl. Clara continued “Lilly has been a part of my life since I was about your age, that’s when the gift starts to reveal itself. I guess you could say you’ve been born into a family of witches!” Clara let out a little laugh and patted Aram on the back. He finally gained the courage to start speaking “What do you mean witches? There’s no such thing.. I.. this is impossible I have to be dreaming.” Aram closed his eyes and shook his head, when he opened them, he was still standing with Lilly and Clara. At this point Lilly turned around and her eyes were a glowing golden color, they faded back to gray and she took a step towards Aram and Clara. Lilly spoke in a soft voice “Aram, there is nothing but walls behind those paintings sweetheart. If you’re standing in this room, you were born with this gift. You can choose to learn how to use it or you can choose to pretend it’s not there. That’s what your parents did, love.”

Aram was filled with fury, he yelled “What did you do to my parents!” Lilly quickly replied “Oh no no, what happened to your parents was an unexpected tragedy. I wish they had been around long enough to accept their gift. You see all of these people in the paintings have the gift and some of them choose to use it. These paintings are made with the pure essence of the model depicted. The paint is made from powerful ancient oils and herbs, along with the pure essence of a human. I suppose you could say their very souls live in the paintings. If you learn to use your gift, then you can come and go from the paintings as you please. If, however, you decide to ignore it… you may feel a little trapped.” At this point Aram was not believing a thing they said. He grew angry and said “I call bullshit on all of this. If there was some ‘magic’ force at work here then I don’t believe you would have to store mutilated corpses in the walls of a mansion.” Lilly’s face turned grave and she said “Now listen here, this gift I granted your family comes with a price. Stripping the essence from a human body is not easy and it’s not painless. I’d be lying if I said I don’t benefit, everytime I create my art, I get to keep a piece of the essence and I stay young, pretty, and powerful.”

Aram knew that he couldn’t rationally work through this with the women in this room. He was backed into a corner and needed to find his way out. He said “Ok, well I need some time to think this all through.. I guess. I think I’ll sleep on it.” Aram began to walk away and heard Clara talking behind him “Oh of course darling, sweet dreams.” When he exited the room he was in a hall, at the end he saw the back of a painting. He opened it up and hopped down into the hallway, he closed it and saw an old man with round glasses and the same desperate eyes. Aram made his way to his room, threw a few things in his bag, grabbed his keys and ran to his car. He drove into town and went to the diner. When he entered he saw his coworker Abby standing at the counter with a few cooks. She turned when the door opened and greeted him “Hi Aram! What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” Aram replied “I just needed a.. quiet place to think, my Aunt has been..uhm.. up all night cleaning or something. Sh.. she was making a lot of noise.” Abby nodded and Aram quickly walked to a booth, he sat down and pulled out a few books. He had one about the history of his town and a collection of Joyce Carol Oates short stories. None of those were very helpful to him, he knew he would need more to figure this all out.

Aram stood up and left his things at the table. Before he left he yelled to Abby “I’ll be right back, I left a book in my car.” She just smiled and continued her conversation, Aram left the diner and looked toward the library. At this hour the library had been closed for a while but Arams patience was running very thin. All of the buildings in this town were old with no security, or screens in the windows. He slid a window opened and jumped in, Aram clicked on his flashlight and made his way toward the section on the occult. The section was surprisingly large, this library had a lot of books to offer on the paranormal. He found books about angels and demons, witches and spells, and books about spirits. It was difficult to tell which ones would actually be helpful, he grabbed one that was titled Hexes, Spells, and Rituals: A Beginners Guide to Witchcraft. The book was as thick as two dictionaries and looked as old as Aunt Clara, he shoved it in his bag and made his way back to the diner. When he sat down he flipped to the back to look for an index or glossary, there was an index that was over 100 pages. Aram book marked every page that had to do with art, painting, and essence. He ended up with a lot more pages to read then he thought he’d have.

At around 3am it was time for Abby to leave, she walked over to Aram and sat down across from him. Aram looked up at her and she looked into his eyes with her bright green eyes and said “What are you reading about?” Before he could reply he noticed that she had a symbol on a necklace that he had seen on the cover of the book. Aram replied “At this point, I honestly don’t even know anymore.” he closed the book and slid it across the table. When Abby saw the cover her face lit up, in an excited voice she said “Wow! I didn’t know you were into this stuff, my parents raised me on this. I can answer any questions you’ve got.” Aram felt relieved that he didn’t have to read through the book anymore. He replied “Well bear with me here, I’m not running on a lot of sleep. I moved into my Aunt’s mansion after my parents passed and she has some old paintings. Well, some things have been happening and I have a reason to believe that the paintings are tied to the occult. They are painted with a deep red paint that is made out of ancient oils, herbs, and… essence-” before he could continue Abby cut him off. “You live in Woodridge Manor don’t you? You’re Aram Woodridge, you are a Woodridge. Oh my god, I can’t believe you don’t know all about this.”

Aram was feeling the familiar confusion and frustration that was starting to be an all too common feeling for him. He looked up at Abby’s excited face and shrugged his shoulders indicating he was clueless. Abby continued “Ok so, I am going to be completely honest here and I don’t mean to hurt your feelings but when it comes to this town you must be utterly clueless, am I correct?” Aram hopelessly nodded his head and looked desperately at Abby, she continued “Do you even know the name of this town?” Aram realized for the first time that he had no clue what the town was called. It consisted of a main street where all of the homes, but his, were located as well as the diner and library. There was a school at the south end of Main Street and Aunt Clara’s house was at the north end.

Abby took his pause for a no “The name of this town is Woodridge and it has a long history of magick and witchcraft. Infact, everyone in this town has some kind of tie to all that. Your home is what started this town, it was built by Ernest and Lillian Woodridge sometime in the 1800’s. Only a few days after it was built, the farmers around the area started noticing red lights flashing in the windows. The house built up quite the reputation, one Christmas all of the surrounding homes got invitations to a dinner in the mansion. None of the residents replied but one, the 18 year old daughter of a local bartender, Lilly Everts. The story goes that she snuck away from her house to attend the dinner and see inside the decadent home. The next morning when her father discovered she was missing he went to the mansion only to find a beautiful painting of his beloved daughter. The frame was molded out of pure gold and was lined in gemstones, the paint used had a strong smell of incense with a tiny hint of blood. In the next months the Woodridge family bought all the land for miles around. Most of the farmers moved away but Lilly’s father stayed for one last night. He walked out into the woods and was never seen again. They found a body in the woods that they never identified, they say suicide, I say Woodridge family.”

Aram took in the information for a few minutes then replied “So this Lilly girl… was there anything, um, unique about the way that she looked?” Abby smiled and said “Oh yes, they say she had hair as black as tar and skin as white as snow. The most special thing about Lilly was her eyes they were gray around her pupils and her pupils were as blue as the sea.” Aram looked at her blankly and the color drained from his face. Abby’s face did the opposite she was smiling ear to ear and practically standing when she whispered “You’ve seen her in that house haven’t you?” Up until this point Aram had been careful not to reveal much about his situation in fear of people thinking he was crazy, but something about the way Abby spoke about these things made him feel safe. “Abby, look, if I even started trying to explain what I’ve experienced in that house the past few days, we might be here for a long, long time. Do you have any time to spare? I could take you there and show you-” Abby cut him off “Yes! I have all the time in the world when it comes to an invitation to Woodridge Manor, let me grab my purse.” Abby ran to the back and Aram started packing up his things. When she came back they got into Aram’s car and started the drive to the house.

It was only a five minute drive but with everything that Abby said on the way, it felt like an eternity. She gave him almost the full history of his home up until it was vacant for almost thirty years before Aunt Clara moved in. When they arrived Aram first took Abby to his room to give her some background about his situation. He told her about the paintings being doors into hallways, the reflection pool room, and what Lilly said to him. After a few moments of silence Abby spoke “I know exactly what’s going on here and so does the whole town, you’ve just confirmed it. Now, I won’t go blabbing about this to everyone because they’ll think I’m crazy but you’ll understand. What Lilly is doing here is called essence painting, something the Woodridge family is infamous for. The process is gruesome and the results are just as painful for the victim. Lilly is tricking people the way that she was tricked hundreds of years ago. With essence painting the witch promises the victim everlasting life and power if they let her paint them. What they don’t know is that Lilly will paralyze them with a mixture of oils, then strip their skin to the bone with a blade, leaving the face intact. From there she mixes some of the blood into her ‘paint’ and then carves a cantation into their ribcage. The paint she has is not ordinary paint and isn’t red anymore when painted on the canvas. She paints the whole picture except for the eyes, she removes those and binds them to the painting, that’s how their souls stay trapped.”

This gave Aram a sense of clarity, what Lilly was doing was a mixture of magick and human deception. Aram stood and said “Ok Abby, I am going to show you the corridors first, then I’ll take you to the room with the reflection pool.” he grabbed his flashlight and started walking. Abby stayed close behind him, her eyes taking in every detail of the house. Aram took her to the end of the second story gallery hall and opened the last picture at the end. It swung open and revealed the eerie corridors. Abby gasped and whispered “There are so many paintings, so many souls, just trapped here.” Aram turned to face her and replied “Look into the eyes, that’s how I figured out this was all real, they all have the same desperate look in them.” Abby blinked her eyes hard, nodded her head, and continued forward. They walked slowly down the corridor and Aram showed her the doors with the names etched in them, and told her what was behind them. Abby just kept nodding solemnly and every so often stopping to inspect a door or a wall.

By the time they got to the door leading into the reflection room Aram was feeling incredibly anxious and dreaded opening the door. They stood there for a few moments before Abby took the lead and swung the door open. Lilly and Clara were gone and the room looked like it had the first time Aram stumbled across it. Abby walked directly to the chest and opened it rifling through its contents, she set up the altar and motioned for Aram to come to her. Abby said “You are a Woodridge, I want to see how strong your power is so I’ll teach you a simple spell. Once you get better you’ll be able to recite the incantation in your head and perform the spell with no words spoken.” Aram nervously walked to the altar and Abby gave him some direction, he lit some candles and put some mixed herbs into a dish. He closed his eyes, raised his hands, and recited some old Gaelic words that Abby taught him, he felt a surge of energy throughout his entire body. Arams eyes shot open and there was a swirling cloud of extremely bright light floating at the ceiling of the room. There was a strong, cool breeze circulating the room and for a moment the water in the pool was crystal clear, revealing a beautiful painting in a glass case under the water. A painting of a beautiful young woman named Lilly.

After Aram lowered his hands the cloud dissipated and he turned toward Abby. Before he could say anything Abby said “That was a spell to dimly illuminate a small room. You might be the most powerful Woodridge in centuries.” Aram was dumbfounded, up until seconds ago he didn’t believe that such things existed at all, let alone within himself. He came back to reality and spoke “I had no idea... I mean, I knew something weird was.. Did you see the painting under the water?” Abby looked down into the water “I did, and that painting is the only way that we will be able to stop Lilly.” Aram looked down into the water and thought about how they could get the painting out of the case and into their hands. While Aram looked into the pool, Abby spoke “There are a few spells that allow you to manipulate water but we’ll have to be very careful, your power is very strong.” Abby closed her eyes and moved her mouth as if she was sifting through a library in her head. After a few moments she opened her eyes and gave a smile “I’ve got it,” she wrote on paper as she spoke “this is one of the first spells I tried and I think it will be perfect. It’s a weak spell from back in the day when water-witching was the only way villages could find wells. I’ve modified it with a telekinesis spell so when you perform it the water will raise up to the ceiling and I will jump in and grab the painting. Got it?”

Aram took a few deep breaths and nodded his head, he replied “Let’s do this.” Abby fumbled around the altar changing out candle colors and replacing the herbs. She went to the edge of the pool and signaled Aram to begin the spell. Aram closed his eyes and chanted the incantation out loud while raising his hands. He heard a subtle sound like a babbling brook, he opened his eyes and saw the pool was empty and the water was levitating above them. Abby was at the case working the lock, she let out a sigh of frustration. Abby looked frantically around her and said “Just keep the pool above us Aram, I’ll get this done quick.” Abby ran to the chest on the altar, picked it up and smashed the glass case. She grabbed the painting and slid it on the the floor then crawled out of the empty pool. Once Aram saw her standing next to him he slowly lowered the water into the pool. When it was fully back in the pool, Aram walked over to the painting.

It was one of the most beautiful pieces of art that Aram had ever laid his eyes on. The frame was etched with beautiful knots flowing in and out of each other. In each of the four corners there were diamonds, emeralds, and rubies arranged to make four triquetras. The painting looked like it was painted with liquid silk, each of the colors were so vibrant they looked like they had been pulled straight from the Amazon Rainforest. Lilly’s eyes looked different from the eyes in the other paintings. She had a smug, arrogant look in her eyes and a sick determination hidden behind her smile. Aram finally spoke “Lilly’s art is nothing compared to this.” Abby went to speak when suddenly the picture of Lilly started bending out towards them. Lilly emerged from the painting of her body and her eyes were full white.

When she spoke it sounded like women of every age speaking the same time. Lilly bellowed “My art is more precious than anything living or dead that exists in this pitiful world.” Her eyes began rapidly changing colors, some of which Aram had never seen before. The water in the pool turned a deep maroon and the room started to shake. Lilly spoke again this time slower and more distorted “I tried to offer you the greatest gift of all, and you denied it. Your insurrection will not go unpunished child.” The room went completely dark and Aram couldn’t see Lilly or Abby. He remembered that last time the lights went out with Lilly she disappeared, he wasn’t prepared to lose his only friend if Lilly tried to take Abby with her. Aram thought fast and tried to recite the light spell that Abby taught him, he spoke the words and raised his hands.

This time he kept his eyes open and watched the cloud form above the altar, the darkness that Lilly brought was thicker than the usual dark. Aram focused as hard as he could and put his whole being into the spell. There was a huge crack of thunder and a light brighter than the sun illuminated the room. Aram saw Lilly’s face as she turned her head to the light. She screamed “My eyes! My beautiful eyes!” and fell in a crumpled heap to the ground. Abby was on the ground covering her eyes and chanting words that Aram did not understand. He lowered his hands and the room returned to the eerie red light, once his eyes adjusted he ran towards Abby yelling her name. She turned her head toward him and yelled back “The eyes! You need to destroy the eyes in the painting.” Arams head snapped to Lilly, she was on the ground shrieking and sobbing. He ran to the painting and started scratching at the eyes. His fingernails started to break and his fingers began to bleed, the painting was still intact.

Aram felt that the only way he could destroy Lilly’s magick was with his own power. Lilly rose from the ground and looked at Aram, her eyes were charred and black and there was a black ooze dripping out of her singed eye sockets. She began walking toward Aram when he heard frantic footsteps running toward the chamber. He heard his Aunt screaming down the halls “Stop! Please stop! Aram you don’t know what you’re doing.” Clara came crashing into the room and ran up between Aram and Lilly. She spoke frantically “Aram, baby, please stop this madness. Your parents… they… aren’t dead.” As the words slipped off of Clara’s lips Aram felt dizzy and angry. Clara continued “When you turned 12 you started showing signs of great power. You’re mother was scared, your mother didn’t want your father to learn anything about the Woodridge family. That’s why we never told you or your father the name of the town. Your parents are in London, we performed a spell on your father and he doesn’t even know you exist. It was better to tell you that they were gone, we didn’t want to hurt you. Lilly said it would be best to harbor and train your power here. I’m so sorry…” She covered her face with her hands and began to cry

All of the information he was taking in, on top of the exhaustion for performing three powerful spells on the first day he learned he had powers, began to make Aram’s head spin. He let out a sob and fell to the floor, Abby came to his side and stroked his shoulder. She whispered in his ear “You’re parents are only two of the people who Lilly has robbed of happiness and life. She has been doing this to your family for hundreds of years, stop her now.” Abby brushed her hand on his cheek and started screaming at Lilly. Her voice was cracking as she called out “Lilly is a sad excuse for a witch, her art is nothing but a s****y knock off of the portrait Ernest Woodridge painted of her!” Lilly cocked her head toward Abby and, in a sweet voice, responded “Ernest? He made a lot of promises. He said… he said he’d help me develop and enhance my power. All I had to do was let him paint me, I was his first try.” As she spoke her skin started to look dry and brittle, cracks started to form with every word, she started to pace as she spoke “He wasn’t very good with the knife yet… he made a few mistakes. I begged and begged but he wouldn’t let go.” Lilly grew angry, her arms extended to unnatural lengths with sickening cracks and pops. Her legs hoisted her higher in the air, her knees bent in toward each other. Her flesh began to tear and every noise her bones made was nauseating.

Lilly’s voice was deep and sickening, like a diesel engine ten octaves lower. The room shook, concrete dust cascaded down from the ceiling. Lilly bellowed “Ernest Woodridge lured a beautiful, innocent 18 year old woman to his home under false pretense. Lilly Everts was kidnapped and mutilated beyond recognition in cold blood.” With her words the room shook violently the bricks in the walls crumbled and the ceiling came crashing to the floor. The collapse revealed a domed stained glass ceiling and ornate windows lining the room. Consumed in frustration Aram shouted “This is my house, go to hell b***h!”

Lilly let out deep laugh “You Woodridge men are all the same, you think you were here first? Little Ernie couldn’t keep his little nose out of all the books he could read on dark magick. He found an ancient chapel that was occupied by a coven that performed every ritual in decadence, grace, and grandeur. Woodridge and his w***e took all the cash they made from their little railroad tycoon and came out here to f**k with the innocent. He tricked the members of my coven into leaving our beloved chapel and built it into a glorious mansion. I admired him so,” Lilly’s voice changed to the deep evil tone “This is my house, this is my chapel, you need to leave.” Lilly cracked and contorted her body toward Aram, sending him into a panic. He put his hands in front of his face, closed his eyes, and just for a moment, let all of the hurt and frustration in. Aram felt a surge of energy from his core that traveled up his body, through his arms, and out of his hands. He snapped his eyes open to see Lilly’s long spindly extremities dangling through the stained glass ceiling. She lay impaled on a long shard from a pane of deep, violet stained glass. She wailed and cried, but the deafening echo of the storm outside drowned out her agony. Aram looked toward the pool and raised the water up. Clara ran to the painting and gripped the top of the frame screaming “Ruined! It’s all ruined, I’m nothing without Lilith.”

Aram paid no mind to the woman clutching the painting like it was her child. He didn’t see his aunt there, just the shell of old Aunt Clara whose feeble mind was corrupted by an ancient evil. Aram shut his eyes, and thought of all the pain and suffering his parents, his Aunt Clara, and the town of Woodridge had gone through. He channeled all of his emotion and focus into thrusting the water into the painting. As the water rushed toward the tired painting the world seemed to move in slow motion. Just as the water was about to pulverize the sad remnants of a centuries old evil, Aram saw into the now sad and frustrated eyes of Lilly’s painting for the last time. The water seemed to dissolve canvas causing the paint to melt away back into the red sludge. The Earth trembled violently, the remaining ceiling panes gave way and plummeting to the floor, along with Lilly’s disfigured and battered body. When the water receded Clara’s remains lay sprawled on the floor clutching the frame. Aram looked over to Lilly and watched a pure white light beam from her eyes and mouth and into the clouds.

The sun broke over the horizon and set the sky ablaze, illuminating the entire room with an amber glow. Aram smiled softly and turned to Abby, the color drained from his face when he saw a pile of rubble in place of his new friend. He walked to it and fell to his knees spotting Abby’s necklace, which was pinned under a large concrete slab, no doubt still attached to her neck. Aram blinked away his tears and ran through the house collecting every painting including the massive ones, pitching them into the murky red water that remained at the bottom of the pool. When he finished, the pit was reduced to a cesspool of red muck charged with dormant magick. Aram went to his room, climbed through his window to the roof and looked down into the chapel. Suddenly the ground trembled once more, the dim sunset gave way to hundreds of beams of light shooting into the sky. Aram looked at rubble one more time and noticed two gray objects that looked like dried leaves. As he traveled through the corridors to the chapel once more, he felt an unfamiliar positive energy whir around the house.

When he got to the scene, he studied the objects closer. He realized that they were dried eyelids, no doubt belonging to the innocent Lilly Everts that was murdered here all those years ago. Aram packed a few of his favorite books and grabbed his savings. He loaded up his car and watched the massive home disappear from his rearview mirror for the last time.

Author's Note

This is my first story published on a site like this. What do you think of the structure and storyline?

Reviews

[J. Justice Mendez]

The story itself is a pretty solid story. I wasn't expecting to be as interested as I was while reading it. It's a good plot with an interesting climax. When Aram discovered the secret passageways behind the paintings, I knew that I had to finish this story.

Now, here's the critical part. First and foremost, how is Abby able to explore the passageways with Aram, when the passageways are only accessible to people with the gift? At least, I assumed that the gift was only passed on with the family. I was expecting Abby to not be able to follow Aram, and I was a bit confused when there was no mention of here also having this "gift."

Also, right up to the part where Aram and Abby are at the diner, talking about witchcraft and such, I began to lose interest. After that it felt way too......Harry Potter. The younger magician overpowers the more experienced magician and wins. Maybe a few characters die. Protagonist moves on.
Work on your falling action and resolution a bit more, make it just as exciting and dark as the beginning.

Perhaps work in why Abby can explore behind the paintings with Aram. Maybe have the two encounter Clara before they encounter Lilly. Possibly even introduce a third character to shake things up. Escalate the final conflict between Lilly and Aram. Maybe she summons up some demons or ghouls or something?
Other than that, you have a pretty good read here. Keep in mind that a reader doesn't want to be able to predict an ending, and possibly focus more on differentiating your characters.

Good Luck.

[Liam Goff]

Thanks so much for the review! As far as Abby coming back into the corridors with Aram, my goal was to make it clear that Lilly lied about needing the gift to go back there. As I continue revising my story I will try to make the Abby situation clearer.

[J. Justice Mendez]

You definitely have a good story on your hands here. A couple of revisions here and there, and you could probably even go as far as getting this published. Possibly within a collection of shorts stories, or perhaps tone it down and it could be in English textbooks.
I will surely check back later when you have the revised version.