Untitled victorian stories

sadistikmonkey Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
The old Victorian mansion had for years been the talk of the town. Children and pets disappearing daily, and scared mothers venturing to find their loved ones, never to be found.

As I crossed the threshold of the old Victorian mansion, I couldn't help but feel like i was being followed.

In the archway leading to the family room, there were frames filled with the same painting, but peculiarly, the dark wooden frames cradled a blank canvas.

I walked closer to inspect them further, and noticed that they filled with a painting of my face. It was like looking into a mirror, but it was a living pastel.

I turned away and noticed a trail of red footprints following me, and at my feet, a pool of viscous pigment. I was being painted, or rather, turned into a painting.

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