Her hand quivered, and her brush stroke went askew. The paintbrush dropped to the floor with a seemingly loud
She gasped. The face she had been painting was strangely scary.The offending line had created a realistic effect,
one that sent a chill down her spine.
She quickly picked up the canvas and tossed it away, then proceeding to clean up her paints and other things.
She sat, the following day, at a coffee shop in town, sipping a latte, and reading the morning paper.
The bell on the door jingled merrily, admitting another patron. She glanced up, and to her horror, there was the man
she had painted on her canvas the night before. Her hand started shaking, and she dropped her coffee mug. It
shattered, sending ceramic shards all about.
She looked down in surprise, and began to cry.
The strange man approached her, and helped her to clean up the mess.
” Let me buy you a new coffee, ma’am,” he offered in a heavy accent.
She nodded slowly.
He ordered her coffee, but strangely, he didn’t order anything for himself.
As he walked her to the door of the cafe, she put her hand on his shoulder, as to thank him. Suddenly he seemed to
dissipate, and he crumbled, much like a burning canvas.
She gasped, and everyone around her looked up at her strangely.
She hurried home, and raced into the bathroom, wanting to splash some cold water on her face,
She looked pale, and decided that she would go lay down in bed to clear her head.
She walked into her room, and there on her bed, was the man from her painting. He lay perfectly still, eyes open,
still as a picture.
She tentatively reached out to touch him, when he sprang to life, and grabbed her by her throat.
The next day in the paper, a strange headline was printed.
“Woman Found Dead In Apartment; Drug Overdose?” and underneath in sub headlines : ” A portrait of a man found
propped against the side of her bed, and we are trying to identify him. There are no known relatives and no ID.”