The Portrait in the Attic

with high ceilings, antique furniture, and countless rooms, most of which she had never fully explored. It wasn’t until Anna moved back after her grandmother’s passing that she decided to dive deeper into the house’s long history.

The attic was a place Anna had been warned to avoid. Her grandmother had always told her stories about the strange things up there—old trunks, forgotten mementos, and a portrait that had been in the family for centuries. The portrait, her grandmother said, was of an ancestor who had gone mad after a series of tragic events. The portrait was the last thing anyone wanted to look at, as it was said to hold the gaze of whoever dared to meet it.

Curiosity gnawed at Anna, and one rainy afternoon, she decided to face the attic for herself. She found the old wooden stairs leading up to the attic, their creaks almost as if they were warning her not to go up. The air in the attic was thick with dust, and the room was filled with boxes stacked high, forgotten memories of generations past.

But there, in the corner of the attic, was the portrait.

It was large—far larger than Anna had imagined—and framed in dark, intricately carved wood. The painting depicted a woman with pale skin, her eyes wide and hollow. The expression on her face was one of sorrow, but there was something else hidden beneath her sadness. Something dark, almost sinister. Her eyes seemed to follow Anna, no matter where she stood in the room.

Anna stepped closer, her breath catching in her throat. The woman in the painting seemed alive, as if her gaze would shift if Anna moved just the right way. The more she stared at the portrait, the more uneasy she felt, like the woman was reaching out to her from behind the glass.

Unable to resist, Anna reached out and gently touched the frame. A cold shiver ran down her spine, but she couldn’t look away. There was something compelling about the woman in the portrait, something that drew her in.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp pull in her chest, as though a hand had wrapped around her heart. The room seemed to spin, and the faint whisper of a voice echoed in her mind.

“Help me…”

The voice was soft at first, like a whisper in a dream, but it grew louder, urgent.

Anna stepped back, her heart pounding. The air around her felt heavier now, thicker. The shadows in the attic stretched unnaturally long, and the temperature seemed to drop. She looked back at the portrait, and that’s when she saw it—the woman’s eyes, once dull and lifeless, were now wide open, staring straight at her. A twisted smile curled at the corners of her lips.

Anna stumbled back, her breath quickening. She turned and ran toward the stairs, but as she reached the bottom step, a loud crash sounded behind her. She whipped around to find the attic door slammed shut, trapping her inside.

The temperature dropped further, her breath visible in the cold air. She could hear faint whispers now, like voices behind the walls. The house seemed to come alive around her, the floorboards creaking, the wind howling through the cracks in the walls.

And then, the woman in the portrait spoke.

“Help me… take my place…”

Anna’s blood ran cold as she realized the woman in the painting was no longer a mere portrait. She was trapped within it, and she was reaching out to Anna—to replace her.

The whispers grew louder, and Anna felt something cold brush against her skin. A shadow in the corner of the room shifted, and the next moment, she felt an ice-cold hand clamp around her wrist.

With a scream, Anna yanked herself free, stumbling back toward the stairs. But the door to the attic wouldn’t open. She pounded on it, desperate, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The cold around her was suffocating, pressing in from all sides, and the woman’s voice, now clearer than ever, echoed through her mind.

“Don’t leave me… I need you…”

Anna felt the pressure building, the walls of the attic closing in on her. She turned, desperate to escape, but the room was changing. The floor seemed to stretch away, and in its place, she saw a dark, endless void.

“Help me…”

The last thing she heard was the whisper before everything went silent.