Ginevra “Ellie,” I gulp, “you have to calm down because I’m freaking out over here.” I must be tripping as I am not really staring at a painting of myself. Am I?! I remember the old witch telling me about a painting, but after all that happened, I thought she had been lying. Like all of them. As I am staring at the replication of myself, I feel the last string of sanity slipping from me. In the portrait, I’m sitting on a bed, wrapped in a gray bedsheet as I look slightly over my shoulder, showing my bare back to the spectator. I cover my naked front with the blanket, looking incredibly alluring. I feel like blushing as I remember the sheets, the bed, even the moment. Damn it. Even though the colors are rather dark, it feels vibrant. It feels like it is screaming something at me, wanting to whisper an uncomfortable truth. But the thing that might hurts the most is that I can feel the passion it holds. The passion of the artist for his muse. My hand snaps to my mouth as I f
Last Updated : 2023-11-26 Read more