The portrait
As
I walked passed the painting, without even stopping to look at it, an
ice cold chill fell over the room. Instantly stopping I turned my
head, to see if someone had opened a door or window, and found myself
drawn to the pale face of the woman staring back at me from the
canvas. Frozen to the spot I was unable to stop staring in to her
dark eyes, no matter how hard I tried.
Suddenly
the woman reached forward, placed an ice cold hand on my shoulder and
stepped out of the picture, just before everything went black.
©JSMorbius
