See All Evil

all places. Up till now, I had always thought graveyards were tranquil, peaceful places, but the idea of having a picnic there with Tristan who, by simply whispering some long-dead words, could urge the long-dead corpses to rise from their graves, was anything but peaceful. Still, I had to admit we seemed happy, both of us with wide smiles on our faces. A picnic basket stood between us, and we were sitting on a red-and-white checkered blanket. Tristan was leaning towards me, holding a cookie, and it seemed like he was about to put it in my mouth.

But to my horror, the shadow lingered over one of the graves, peering at us from a distance.

What the hell was this? What did it mean?

After the picnic-at-the-graveyard painting, I moved on to the next one. This portraitdepicted Damian and I, of all people, in an underground crypt. A sarcophagus stood in the middle of the dungeon-like room, with standing chandelier with six candles next to it, illuminating the crypt.

I narrowed my eyes to take a closer look at the painting. To the right were Damian and I. Damian had me cornered, standing so close to me that his lips were inches away from mine. His hands were on either side of my body, leaning against the wall.

Was he trying to attack me? Did he want my blood? Or was something else going on?

A shiver went down my spine as I spotted the by-now-familiar the shadow, this time big enough to occupy the entire background of the painting.

Closer, closer, closer… whatever that ominous shadow-presence was, it was certainly not a good omen, that much I could tell.

Reluctantly, I focused on the next composition. The paintings seemed to progress, with the shadow becoming bigger and bigger…

The next painting instantly made my cheeks burn.

It showed Ronan and I in a bedroom which was completely decorated in a warm but vibrant red color. A gigantic canopy bed dominated the space. The furniture was classy but with an old-fashioned touch; grand armchairs, ceiling-height closets. It reminded me of one of the rooms in the castle of Beauty and the Beast: luxurious and spacious. But what had brought the blush upon my face wasn’t the room itself, but where Ronan and I were at—we were in bed, the covers pulled up over us so only our heads and bare shoulders were visible.

We were kissing.... And probably doing a lot more than kissing.

I imagined kissing those full lips, touching that perfect face, and I was so preoccupied by it that I didn’t pay attention to the shadow at first. But then, I remembered, and began searching for it.

This painting was an anomaly, though.

There was no shadow.

At first glance, at least.

I moved closer, inspecting the painting in more detail. For a few seconds, I lingered on the perfect replica of Ronan’s face, the handsome features immortalized in the work, but then I forced myself to look beyond that. Was the shadow truly gone? And if so, was this a good sign? Or a bad one?

Next to the tall closet was a mirror, and the closer I came and the more I focused on the painting, the more I began to see something in the mirror.

I squinted, trying to get a closer look at the reflection. With my nose practically pressed against the canvas, I could make out the shape—a black blob, with no eyes, no nose. An outline of a figure, a shadow…

The shadow was in the mirror.

And as I concentrated more, hoping to be able to make out some features of the shadow, it seemed to grow taller in the mirror’s surface. Almost as if it was coming closer…

Instantly, the hair on the back of my neck stood on edge. Goosebumps ran over my arms, and the blood froze in my veins.

Slowly, I turned my head to the left, and glanced over my shoulder, while my heart skipped a beat.

The shadow was behind me.

Chapter Nine

 

I ran, without fully realizing what was happening, my feet dragging me along while my mind was still processing what had happened.

Had the shadow materialized from the painting through the mirror?

Had the shadow been lurking behind me all along?

Why did the shadow appear in the paintings predicting my future, and most importantly, what the hell was it?

Fear drove me forward, telling me it was stupid to even contemplate those things if every inch of my body, every ounce of survival instinct I’d ever had told me that the shadow wanted to hurt me.

I rushed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me. Could shadows walk through doors? I wasn’t about to find out. I raced further down the hallway, chilled to the bone and rubbing my arms attempting to keep warm.

Another door, this one on the other side of the corridor.

I didn’t want to go in. That shadow had terrified me enough, and it was just that—a shadow.

Who knows what else this creepfest can throw at me?

Then, as I tried to find the courage to enter the second room, the door behind me started rattling. The doorknob turned violently from left to right. The shadow locked up in there wanted to get out… desperately.

Instinctively, I pulled open the door of the second room, walked in, and slammed it shut behind me. Rather two doors between me and that shadow than one.

Taking a few deep breaths in order to calm down, I took in my surroundings. This room, unlike the gallery of paintings, was familiar. It was home. More importantly, our kitchen, but not in its current state, disfigured by the ugly tulip wallpaper my mother had remodeled the walls with this summer. This wallpaper was older, a few versions before. The wallpaper of my childhood, depicting tiny suns against a blue background.