The final portrait of Elira Grey
The estate of Elira Grey loomed like a specter at the cliff's precipice, its windows vacant as unblinking eyes, gazing out at the ocean. For years, no one had ventured through its iron gates, not since the heiress vanished mysteriously on the night before her last art exhibition. Speculation suggested she had lost her sanity, fixated on seizing a vision that only she perceived. Some murmured that her final artwork, which was never revealed to the public, had pushed her into madness. Jasper Crane, a young artist facing challenges, was skeptical about curses or haunted artworks. However, upon receiving a letter signed merely with the initials "E.G." which proposed a commission- "Complete what I started" - He found it impossible to decline. Intrigued, he ventured through the corroded gate and along the twisting path leading to the Grey estate. Within the interior, the residence was a vestige of the past: worn wallpaper, dusty chandeliers, and canvases shrouded in white fabric leaned against each wall. A fragrance of turpentine and rosewater permeated the atmosphere. In the expansive studio located on the uppermost floor, sunlight streamed through stained glass, projecting fragmented rainbows throughout the space. And there it remained- the incomplete portrait. It was breathtaking, even in its unfinished state. A woman was seated, enveloped in silver silk, her eyes appearing only partially developed, as though suspended between slumber and consciousness. Her hair was a chaotic mass of dark curls, and an individual amethyst rested at her neck. However, it was her countenance- calm, melancholic, and nearly...anticipatory-that sent shivers down Jasper's spine. He examined the room. Brushes were scattered where they had fallen, and palettes were caked with paint that had dried for weeks. A journal was positioned close by, its pages open to the most recent entry: " She won't allow me to depart until it is completed." The ink faded as though the author had been abruptly interrupted in the midst of their contemplation. Nevertheless, Jasper found himself enthralled. Every evening, he made his way back to the studio. With each brushstroke, he felt the woman emerging into existence. However, peculiar occurrences started to unfold. He would awaken to find paint on his hands that he had no recollection of applying. Soft whispers grazed his ears during moments of calm. The woman's gaze on the canvas appeared to track his movements, more defined and conscious than before. On a particular night, a tempest unleashed its fury outside. Lightning illuminated the sky, while the house creaked as though it were sentient. Jasper found himself in front of the portrait, weary and drenched in both sweat and rain. He extended his hand towards the brush, and the woman in the painting blinked. He staggered backward. The atmosphere became dense. Her lips opened, unadorned, yet genuine. "Elira?" he whispered. She emerged from the canvas. However, she was not as she seemed. Her skin glistened with oil and radiance, and her voice resonated like brushstrokes within a cavern. " You accomplished what I could not", she remarked, smiling gently. "Now I am liberated." And Jasper comprehended. Elira had embedded herself within the portrait, yearning to maintain an image of herself that the world could never corrupt. However, her spirit had become ensnared. Until this moment. "Hold on," he remarked, retreating. "What will become of me?" Her eyes shone with a profound sadness. "Every form of art requires a sacrifice." Prior to his ability to run, the brush ascended autonomously. An unseen force pulled him towards the canvas. He let out a scream, yet the studio absorbed the sound. As dawn broke, the tempest had subsided. The portrait was finished. Elira Grey was no longer present, but in her stead sat a young man with terrified eyes, eternally ready for the moment of revelation. The mansion is currently silent. However, in the studio, if you pay close attention, you may discern gentle footsteps and the slightest murmur: Complete what I started.
