Whispers in the brushstrokes

Whispers in the Brushstrokes 

Today is one of my best days of my life. I got to move into my first home with my husband. We gathered our things from the apartment to begin our new adventure. When we arrived my mom and grandma was cleaning the home so was it nice and shiny when we entered.  

My husband picks me up and carries me through the door like a princess. Though as my feet touched the ground, I noticed the creepy painting from Grandma's house. I stare at it; the thing always gave me the heebie-jeebies.  

“Do you like it?” Grandma asks, breaking me out of my thought. 

“I mean, isn’t this yours?” I look at her, not wanting to be rude or disrespectful. 

“I know it's not the best-looking thing but let me tell you, this thing has guided me through some good times, and the terrible times.  

“Oh yeah?” I say still looking at it. 

This painting had a landscape of trees on mountains, a river flowing down the center, which is actually pretty. Then all around it are these colorful circles, big, small, some have eyes. Thats why I thought it looked creepy. The sky with the circles made it look spiritual and infinite, like what is about to come. Below is where the water flows downward to smaller hills with more circles. It seems like each rounded spheres are filled with past adventures, with a creepy few eyes here and there watching me. 

“You sure you don't want to keep this for your good and bad days?” I ask Grandma. 

“Oh no, I got my worth out of it, it's yours now. Now you know this is passed down every other generation. That's why your mom didn't get it.” 

“And thank goodness too.” My mom whispers to me. 

I chuckle as Grandma gives us her look. I can’t explain it, but it is a disapproving look. My mom and I walk around the island, grabbing dishes out of boxes. While my husband takes a look at the painting. I knew that look he had on his face, he like the painting... oh no that means were definitely keeping it. I mean I wouldn't get rid of it since it’s from my Grandma and no telling how many skipped generations before us. 

“How many generations is the painting?” I ask without skipping a beat of putting stuff away. 

“Let’s see here.” She taps her chin counting in her head. “It was passed down to four people, you being the fourth, and it’s skipped generations, eight generations in total, but only held by four people. The story is who ever had it first forgot to give it to one of their kids, so when the grand kids were born, who ever got a house first got the painting. Since then, it went to me and then to you.”  

“Oh wow, this is ancient, and vintage.” I look at her with a smile.  

The day goes on, as we all are unpacking and making this house a home, just before my mom and Grandma left for the night, they were holding the painting up in my dining room, my husband in the corner admiring it there... I had a feeling that this is where it was going to go. I walk in as they begin to make a hole into my wall to hang it up.  

“So now were decorating my house without my permission?” I ask jokingly. 

“Hey we got your husbands permission to hang it up, and honestly it looks good here.” Mom says with a nod of approval.  

“Alright, it does, except for the eyes... that’s what creeps me out about this.”  

“Oh, those are angels, looking after you.” Grandma says. 

“Which makes me not want to run around naked now.”  

We all laugh, as my mom and Grandma begin their way to the door. I help them by grabbing their purses, and keys. Making sure they had everything they needed. My husband and I give them one last final hug before they begin their way to the car. That is until Grandma stopped and turned to look at us.  

“Remember Pumpkin, that painting is more than what it is, listen to it closely.” She smiles as she turns back to meet up with mom at the car.  

My husband and I wave once more, waiting for them to leave. They drive down the long driveway, once they were out of sight, my husband and I shut the door giving each other a hug. We were so happy to own this home and out of apartments. Garfield, our orange chunky cat comes up to us also appreciating the new home.  

I leave my bedroom hours later. It was 2AM, I was thirsty. Garfield follows me thinking it's time for food, which was definitely not. His thud hitting the hardwood echoed in the house. I get to the kitchen grabbing a glass for water. As I'm sipping it, I notice Grr looking at the painting and twitching his head like he hears something from it. Looking at both him and the painting as I approach. 

I notice something strange. Some of the circles change color, maybe the lighting. Telling myself that so I don’t freak out at 2AM and it being the first night into my home. Though looking at it more I notice a shiny gem that gleamed at me. As I got closer it was like a tiny mirror glistening. My finger grazes the spot to see what it could be. I was thinking a piece of glitter maybe.  

“House.” a whisper in my ear. 

In a jump I back away, removing my finger. I knew it was the 2AM night phantoms in my head to scare me. In a flash I drink more water, then grabbing Grr to bring back to bed with my husband and I. My heart was racing. I didn’t know if I was crazy, or this house was haunted or the painting. Shaking my head and grabbing my phone to play anything on social media to get my mind off it.  

The next morning my husband wakes up before me, making breakfast. I slowly rise as the Grr is gently waking me as well for breakfast for himself. I pet him and give him kisses before sitting on the edge of the bed. Walking towards the kitchen, noticing my husband staring at the painting. I come up behind him seeing if the painting looked like it did at 2AM. Well, it did. 

“What do you see in it?” I ask wrapping my arms around him. 

“I’m not sure if it makes sense, but I see my past, and my future in this painting.”  

“Oh yeah, what's in your past?” I ask curiously. 

“My past, when I played soccer, my animals, the time I was in the play.” He says with a smile. “Then here, for me its brighter because I met you. This when we got married, red and blue in the circle. Garfield’s orange when we got him, big circle too.” 

I could see the similarities like our wedding, getting Garfield and him being our first child despite being a cat. Then I see two circles coming up, black and tan. As that happened the doorbell rings. My husband and I stop looking at the painting. He goes to attend to the food while I answer the door. It was my Mom, with my two childhood dogs, Sundance a black little lab, and Odie a jack russell terrier/pug.  

“Hi bubbas!” I greet the dogs.  

It was strange how the painting knew they were coming to stay with me. Either I’m crazy or that painting is more with what Grandma was saying. I was starting to get curious. Though with unpacking, taking care of three animals, and my Mom visiting, I had no time to be curious about the painting. 

“Honey, have you been painting on this?” Mom asks looking at it, noticing the changes as well.  

“What would you say if I said yes?” I ask not wanting to sound crazy. 

“Well, you really shouldn’t paint over something that is old as this, but I’m glad that eyeball is not staring at me anymore. It looked at me when I was a kid, and I swear it followed me.” She continues to look at it. 

“Well, it could of been the way it was painted.” I shrug my shoulders. 

“Maybe, but it looks better. Oh, hi Garfield, Grandma is here.” Mom says referring to herself since he was my Fur Baby. 

The day goes on. We started with some breakfast before more unpacking. We finished the kitchen and started in the living room. Getting all the furniture in place and then the books and nick knacks. Then to other rooms to get all the boxes unpacked. Lunch came and gone between that and three animals running around beneath our feet. After a while Mom leaves since the job of unpacking was done. My husband and I sit on the couch exhausted next to three animals.  

I suddenly jump up scaring all the animals. Of course they follow me into the dining room. I begin to reach for the painting when my husband begins to speak. Sighing, I retract my hand that was reaching for the painting, turning to face him.  

“That painting it’s full of energy, good energy.” He sits up from the couch. 

“Good energy? How so?” I lean against the chair, listening before I want to attempt to touch this painting again. 

“Oh yeah, remember the orgonite ball we got from the crystal store?” He begins to walk towards me. 

“Yes, it vibrated in my hand. Because of energies.”  

“Mmmhm, well this painting does the same thing, except more, but I can’t fully understand yet, it's a real mystery.”  

“Then shell we see what the mystery is about?” I ask walking towards it. 

“Carefully, if its spiritual we don't want to make it negative.” He says, he’s learned this stuff by random research he does.  

I gently press my finger on a circle, feeling the vibrations of energy. It was telling me a story, my story. When I was a kid getting my dogs Sundance and Odie. Feeding Sundance fudge bars... in my defense it was the only way to get him into the house and we shared that bar, while Odie the bug-eyed freak was chasing mice. Then singing in the choir, standing in the center singing my heart out, having my internal moment. Years pass to dating my husband and marrying him. To purchasing this house.  

“This thing knows us. We need to get more information from your grandma.” He says already on his phone to call her. 

“Yes, we do.” I step away from the painting to feed Garfield. 

My husband begins to cook some dinner for her to come over. I clean up a little bit before she arrives. The air smelled good with the aroma of spaghetti wafting the air. I finish up as she knocks on the door, entering before I get to the door.  

“Hello, how was the first night?” She asks getting her shoes off.  

“It was good, but I have questions, it’s about the painting.” 

“Ah, yes, well that’s why I brought this book.” She slips it out of her bag, “I had to see if you saw the changes.”  

“Ooh, mysterious.” I guide her to the kitchen. 

“Mmm it smells good!” Grandma takes a seat while I get something to drink.  

I take a seat next to her. Garfield hops on to the table. We pet him for a second before waving him away, since we are going to eat in a little bit. I begin to reach for the book she had beneath her hand. Grandma moves it away from me.  

“Now hold on you can’t just take the book before the safe ritual and the history.” She gently slaps my hand. 

“Ow, you know I’m 19, not a kid.” I say in slight shock. 

“You're my grandbaby, hence baby. You'll never be an adult.” She smiles at me, jokingly. 

“Okay, sorry.” 

“Now, the history of this painting. Eight generations ago, Anna-Marrie created this artwork, by hand. It took her months. During those months, she went through her own ups and downs. This is what each circle represents,” Grandma pulls out some photos. “This one was mine, which you saw it yesterday, and it seems yours is coming in.” She looks over at it. 

“Yeah, these have changed on the bottom, but not the top, yet.” I point at the difference between the photo and the painting.  

“Oh, are you expecting another animal?” She asks pointing to a peach circle now. 

“I mean, I’m getting Garfield a friend, a female cat, but not until around Christmas.” 

“Oh, that will be fun, see your already seeing your future, now don’t look too much into it. It could spoil your future, and your future can change, at any time. Anyway, this photo is older, see how it’s completely different, luckily, this is an old journal that tells us what color was what. Since I can draw, I colored it.” Grandma pulls out a drawing. “I traced the outline, then colored it according to what the journal says.” 

“I see that, It’s different, but also the same. Let me see the original.” I say curiously. 

“This is the original, black and white photo, again I colored it to see what it looked like.” Grandma holds up the photos. 

“Whoa, this one is colorful, and more chaotic.” I take the colored one. 

“According to this journal, It’s most of her life. It was intense. It was during hard times, horrible men, no respect for women. So, her heart, soul, blood, sweat, tears are in this painting, which makes me think she’s possessing it, in a good way. She means no harm, but She does tell your story through this.” 

“Whoa, I believe this stuff, but is this really true?” 

“Yes, our family for generations were mysterious and spiritual. The normal weird people didn’t accept us. Luckily, it’s slowly coming around, being accepted, but before it was better to keep it secret.” 

“Yeah, at least it’s finally being accepted.” 

Grandma looks up at my husband who is bringing us plates. “I think your family is high spirited too.”  

“Maybe.” My husband says placing down the plates in front of us. 

“Maybe, you said you listen to your ancestors when you cook for measurements.”  I say grabbing my fork. 

“It’s not a conversation, it’s a feeling, it’s listening to my instincts, and tasting.” My husband gets his own plate and joins us at the table. 

“This is still communicating with your ancestors.” Grandma says. 

My husband shrugs starting to eat. “I mean I believe in this, but it’s also mysterious.” 

“Trust me I know. I thought there was a ghost in my house the first night.” Grandma says. “Mmm this is good, you listened to them well.” she says with a chuckle. 

“Thank you, I thought she was changing it, but she was asleep all night.” My husband says referring to me. 

“I thought there was a ghost, because Garfield was looking at it weird, look like right now.” I say pointing to the big orange fluffy cat. 

“Garfield, what do you see or hear?” My husband asks him. 

“He can recognize what it is and what his going on. My dogs and cats did the same thing.” Grandma says. 

“Sundance and Odie haven’t really looked at it too much yet.” I say glancing at them in the living room napping. 

“They will. Anyways, when Anne-Marrie got to be my age, she gave it to her grandson, who was the first to move into a house. She meant to give it to her daughter, but she forgot about the painting until her grandson was about to move into her house. They found it and hung it up and so the tradition was created.  

“This is still all crazy, how and why is this happening?” 

“It’s a didactic, anamorphosis, and veil painting. There're a few others out there. But no information on them. It’s a mystery, but a cool one, also a family heirloom.” Grandma says finishing her plate. 

“it's growing on me... literally.” I chuckle. 

Grandma nods. “It’s not just any painting; it’s unique in its own right. A didactic, anamorphic, and Veil painting, each layer serves a purpose. The spiritual essence imbued in it by Anne-Marrie seems to communicate through subtle changes in the painting, almost like it’s evolving with the family’s history.” 

“Anamorphosis?” My husband raises an eyebrow. 

“Yes, it’s a type of distorted perspective. When you look at it from a specific angle, it reveals a hidden image or message. People say you can sometimes see glimpses of the past or future in it,” Grandma explains with a hint of pride. “The Veil aspect is more intriguing; it’s like a shroud that only lifts for those who are meant to understand its story.” 

“Wow, that’s fascinating,” I muse, tracing the intricate details of the frame with my fingers. “But why does it change?” 

“It’s believed that the painting responds to the emotions and energies of those around it. Anne-Marrie’s spirit might be guiding it, ensuring the family's legacy is protected and remembered,” Grandma replies softly. 

“Sounds like we have a magical family heirloom,” my husband says with a smile. 

“Indeed, and it’s up to us to cherish and protect it,” I say, feeling a renewed sense of connection to our past. 

Grandma smiles warmly, “Remember, it’s not just a piece of art; it’s a living testament to our heritage. Treat it with respect, and it will continue to watch over our family for generations to come.” 

As we continue our meal, the painting hangs quietly on the wall, a silent guardian of our family’s history, its colors subtly shifting in the evening light, as if acknowledging our conversation.