"YOU"

Author's note: My story is more about a painting with magical properties.

ROSIE

It was a simple painting made up of simple colors. A beige background. A silhouette of a woman’s side profile. And a sun at the corner of the painting.

When Rosie walked into the art museum and saw the painting for the first time, she let out a laugh. This simple a painting could not be showcased at a reputable museum in the heart of San Francisco, where the listing prize for the painting was $2,000! Rosie could probably recreate the painting in her sleep!

The only reason why she was here was because it was extra credit for an art history class, she was taking at her local community college. Her assignment this week was to visit an art museum and write about a piece and compare it to a historical painting.

Rosie decided this was the piece she would write about. But what would she compare it to? It would be an insult to compare this to an art style like Monet or Van Gogh. She wondered who painted this one. The painting tag at the bottom read “UNKNOWN” under the artist’s name. As for the name of the painting, it read “YOU.”

Rosie went to the front and asked one of the museum employees about the artist of the “YOU” painting. The lady told her that it was donated by a rich art collector who no longer wanted it and that the artist is practically unknown. Great help, thought Rosie, going back to the painting. She wrote down her observations about it. Then she took out her camera and was about to snap a picture of the painting, when someone almost shoved her to the side.

“Don’t take a picture of it!!” 

Rosie, startled by the outburst, composed herself and looked at the person who had pushed her. It was a man who looked like a model. He had sharp facial features and green eyes that complemented his olive skin.

“Excuse me?” asked Rosie.

“I said don’t take a picture of the painting.”

Rosie looked at him questioningly.

“I’m sorry. My name is Mario. I work here. I’m the manager. If you could please not photograph the paintings here, that would be great.”

“But I didn’t see a sign anywhere that said photography is prohibited. Plus, I need a picture of this as a reference for my art assignment.”

“That’s sweet and all, but please listen when I say don’t take a picture.”

Rosie squinted her brows. Mario’s tone irritated her.

“But why? And how can I write about the painting at home if I don’t have a picture? I need to have a picture as a refence so I can go in more detail about it in my paper.”

Mario inched closer to her. “You will regret it if you take a picture of this painting in particular. Trust me.”

Then he walked away.

Rosie had to shake off that interaction. It was the strangest thing she’d ever experienced. She looked around to see if anyone was watching. Then she took a quick snap of the painting and walked out of the museum before anyone could see her.

Later, Rosie cozied up in her apartment’s couch, laptop on her lap, phone in hand. She was ready to write this paper. She stared at the picture of the painting in her phone.

Suddenly, Rosie blinked once, then twice.

She could swear it, but…

No, it was her eyes playing tricks on her.

She looked at the painting again, of the silhouetted woman, the sun in the corner, and the dull beige background. That was what she saw at the museum. But when she looked at the painting on her phone now, it showed a different picture.

Instead of the silhouetted woman, the woman’s face was now facing forwards, her face in full view. Black tears were streaming down her face. And instead of the sun in the corner, there were rain clouds. And instead of the beige background, it had turned black.

Rosie was slightly frightened at the sight of it. She closed out of her photos application and had to compose herself. Then she opened up the picture again.

The picture had returned back to its original sight.

That was strange, Rosie thought. Was Mario, right? Should she have not taken a picture of the painting?

She wrote half of her two-page paper and decided to call it a day. She continued on with her day as normal.

Her boyfriend, Khalid, who was visiting, came over that evening and the two had a romantic candle light dinner. He was her long-distance boyfriend who lived all the way in the east coast. He made frequent in-person visits, however which made her giddy with happiness.

She told him about her interesting time at the museum and then afterwards, when she was working on her paper. He didn’t know what to make of it.

“Maybe the painting is possessed,” he joked, regarding the painting.

“Stop! It’s not funny! I was so freaked out when I saw the painting had changed. I’m scared to look at it now.”

“Let’s see it then. I’m not scared of no painting.” Khalid took the phone from Rosie and looked down for several seconds.

“What?” Rosie asked, seeing his intense concentration.

“I don’t see any picture on your camera roll.”

“What? That can’t be!” She peered over Khalid’s shoulder, and sure enough, the picture was gone. “Did you delete it or something?”

“No! I didn’t! I swear!”

Rosie sighed. “Check the deleted folder then.”

Khalid did so, and sure enough the painting was gone.

“Great. Now I have to adlib something for the rest of my paper. Thank God I got half of it done today.”

“Are you going to mention all this in it?”

“Hell no! You think I would dare to do that? What if the painting is possessed, like you said and knows when someone writes about it?”

Khalid laughed. He continued laughing until his sides hurt and his eyes watered. “You crack me up sometimes, you know that. That’s why I love you so much.”

Usually Rosie would hug him and say something in return on how she loves him too, but now she was plain insulted. He was making this out to be a joke, when she was serious!

“Khalid, really? I think something’s up with that painting. That Mario guy was right. I shouldn’t have taken a picture of it. Now that it’s not on my phone anymore, I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“You’re right, you don’t. Why don’t we talk about our plans for the night?”

Rosie grinned. “I got the Bluetooth speaker connected so we can have a little party to ourselves, while playing our favorite music.”

Khalid smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

The next day, Rosie was exhausted. She had too much fun with Khalid the previous night that she only woke up at 11:00.

Thank God it was a weekend.

Khalid was asleep still. Rosie had to finish her paper before she and Khalid made plans for the day. He was leaving tonight. While she hated his short visits, she was grateful she got to see him.

But first she had to finish the art paper before it tore at her mind. She even had a dream about the painting and how the woman in it stared at her until Rosie ran off.

Rosie got ready for the day and ate breakfast alone. She picked up her phone and clicked on her camera roll.

She closed her eyes, terrified of what she was about to see.

Then she opened them.

The picture of the painting had now reappeared. The woman in the painting was now turned with her back facing forwards. Her hair was now prominent. Her natural color, which was brown, was now stained red with blood. And instead of the rain clouds Rosie saw, in its place, she saw red handprints.

Rosie’s heart beat faster than marching drums. She dropped her phone to the ground.

“Rosie, hon?” asked Khalid from the bedroom.

“Yes?” called out Rosie.

“Are you awake?”

“Unless I’m snoring away and not responding back, then yes, I’m awake.”

“Come back to bed.”

Rosie thought about it. It was so tempting and yes, she wanted to, to get rid of the jump scare she just had.

But that damn painting was getting to her! She had to figure out what the backstory regarding the painting was. How many people knew about these paintings magical abilities to change form to something more frightening each time? And for those who knew about it, where were they at?

She had to figure out everything before something happened. She didn’t want her life to be a like a horror movie. Rosie entered the bedroom. Khalid looked jaw dropping with his physique and dreamy eyes, but she had to do this today.

“I’ll be right back,” she said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To the museum to find out about this painting’s history. It’s reappeared in my camera roll just now.” She showed him the picture.

Khalid made a face at the sight of it. “Really? That’s bizarre.”

“Yeah. I don't know what to make of it. I am terrified, to be honest. Do you want to join me in my art mystery adventure?”

Khalid laughed. “I’d rather get some sleep than go on a wild goose chase about a haunted painting.”

“I knew you’d understand…” Rosie said, shaking her head, then waving bye to him.

The museum was open. Rosie went in and asked to speak with Mario. Mario emerged minutes later.

“Ah, if it isn’t the lady who disobeyed rules. CCTV footage captures everything, you know, honey.”

“Look, I’m sorry I took a picture of it. I thought I could use it as a reference while writing my paper. Now I’m scared to write about the painting at all. I would like to know why it changes form every time I look at it. Do you know anything about that?”

Mario had his mouth wide open. “Oh dear. Come with me now. There’s a lot you need to know.”

As Rosie followed him to the back room, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Rosie.”

“Mario. Nice to put a name to a face.”

His tone was sarcastic now, which Rosie knew why.

The backroom was stuffed with paintings, along with messy furniture. This room seemed out of place in an expensive museum. The paintings all around looked too grotesque or bizarre. One painting that caught Rosie’s attention was a canvas made up of a single red dot. She bet that one would go for thousands. 

Rosie sat down on one of the raggedy couches. Mario remained standing.

“You want to know about the painting, right? Well here’s the short version. No one will buy it. Yet my boss insists we keep it on display. Why, you ask? Because it brings people in. Everyone keeps talking about the “YOU” painting. Like no other painting exists in the whole museum?!”

“So why does it change form?”

Mario inhaled and exhaled. There’s no simple answer for that question. You see, the painting was given to us by a wealthy art collector. She had bought it at a pawn shop. When she did research and realized this painting was worth some thousands, she decided to sell it to us. Two months after she gave us the painting, she died in an accident. She was picking apples in her garden and BOOM she fell down, hit her head.”

“Oh my!” Rosie said, putting her hands to her face.

“Listen. Then the woman’s son told us some stories that his mother told him about the painting moving and changing form. Now you see a woman in the painting, right? Well when she bought it from the pawn shop, the woman in the painting was a young girl instead.”

What in the Dorian Grey….? Rosie thought, baffled by this.

“Her son told me that his mother thought that the painting reflected everyone’s mood, and perhaps even future.”

Goosebumps formed on Rosie’s arms.

“Is this really true? Because I’ve seen the painting change form on my phone! I’m scared now.”

“Well that’s what makes the painting unique.”

Rosie thought for a moment. “So if this painting has these strange magical properties, how come no one is talking about it? Why aren’t more people interested in it?”

Mario leaned closer, bent down to her eye level. “Because all those who were interested in learning more are all dead.”

Rosie did a double take at this.

“So I suggest you stop asking more questions about it, and delete the picture on your phone already, if you haven’t done so.”

Rosie pulled out her phone and opened the camera roll. She deleted the picture without seeing how it looked.

“Okay, I will leave now. Thank you for informing me about the painting. Now, I have a paper to write.”

“Good luck.”

Rosie felt a breath of relief upon exiting the stuffy museum. The presence of that paining filled her with intense pressure that she felt free upon getting away from it. She looked down at the ground once before lifting her feet to cross the road.

She turned to the right side.

A car coming bullet speed, unable to slow down, hit her on impact. 

KHALID

1 YEAR LATER

After Rosie’s death, Khalid was not himself. He attended a weekly group therapy session to help him cope with the loss along with other grieving people.

But he still found himself thinking about her, reading her unfinished art paper, the last memento he had of her.

At the therapy session, a masculine looking woman with two sleeve tattoos had struck up friendship with Khalid.

After one of the sessions, she asked him more about Rosie, and his favorite things about her. And he told her. How she loved music, romantic dinners, and most importantly art.

“Tell me more about her. I looked her up and apparently, there was a possessed painting she was writing about? Is that true?”

Khalid looked away. “I’d rather not talk about that painting.” He then walked away, leaving her hanging.

Two days later, Khalid decided to visit San Francisco, Rosie’s hometown.

It was raining heavily, and flights had been difficult to book, but Khalid managed an economy seat. He didn’t care about the weather. He wanted to be here. It would remind him of her. All he wanted was her by his side, but he knew that’d never happen.

He thought about the woman at the therapy session and her question about the possessed painting. He had read articles that speculated that the painting caused Rosie’s death. Psychics and ghost hunters talked about the painting, which had now gained notoriety.

He wanted to know more about the painting now and if it caused Rosie’s death. He wanted to shake the thought out of his mind, but he couldn’t. After all, the painting was still at the same art museum.

Khalid stopped his rental car outside the art museum that Rosie visited. Upon entering inside, he asked if he could see the “YOU” painting. A man named Mario was at the entrance and gave Khalid a quizzical look upon mention of the painting.

He showed Khalid the painting.

To Khalid’s shock, the painting was not of a woman as he’d seen before on Rosie’s phone. Instead, it was a side profile of a young man, his dark hair had hints of red in it. Khalid stared in bewilderment at it.

He then asked Mario about the history of the painting.

Mario nodded, then asked Khalid to follow him to the backroom.

After hearing the whole history, Khalid wanted to know no more about this painting. All it was, was a bunch of mumbo jumbo. A moving, aging, haunted painting. How stupid.

After thanking Mario, he marched towards the exit.  

“What do you make of the “YOU” painting?” asked a voice suddenly.

Khalid stopped. A woman was standing behind him.

She looked familiar, he thought. Where had he seen her before?

Then he remembered.

Rosie’s camera roll. The red handprints.

Instead of inside the painting, the silhouette was standing right there, in front of him! Was he imagining this? Surely not! But she was right there, plain as day!

The painting is getting into my mind! he thought, his mind racing fast. He had to get away before he really started believing in these paranormal things. 

Without hesitating, he dashed out of the museum and drove to the nearest airport. It was now pouring. There was no way he was staying here any longer. He had to get out of here before it was too late.

He would make it before it was too late, right?