The painting was so stunning, so real, she could almost hear the gulls' cries. She moved closer and cocked her head to the side. Yes, there it was again: gulls.
"Serves me right for skipping breakfast,” she said. “Now I'm all light-headed." She shook her head at odd fancies and turned to go. A muffin was definitely in order. A coffee wouldn't hurt either.
"Come to me..."
"What?" Startled, she looked around. The alcove was empty of all but herself. Quite literally actually, it consisted of three grey walls and no flooring, just cement. To complement the painting, she suspected. The colour--or lack thereof--was echoed in the shadows on the sea, and in the wings of the birds careening above it. It emphasized the sense of isolation she felt just looking at the piece. And the lonely cries of the gulls had seemed to echo perfectly in here. "Well, that's strange,” she mused. “I could've sworn I--" 1 comment
"Come to me..."
"Who is that? Who's there?" She knew alarm had crept into her voice but she couldn't help it she was unnerved, especially when the man's words seemed to be intermingled with the shrieking sea birds that were...in the.... 1 comment
What the...? The thought was left dangling in her mind as she drew still closer. Was the water really doing what she thought it was doing? 2 comments
Yes, it was. Rising. Right inside the painting.
"This can't be happening. No no no." She backed away again, palms up, head shaking once more; sometimes words just weren't enough to convey the depth of a response. She was so outta there, she really was.
So how come she'd stopped moving?
"Bad feet, bad!"
"Come to me..."
Throwing all caution and, apparently, sanity aside, she shouted at the painting. "Who ARE you? WHERE are you? 'Cause if you're in that painting I have news for you: YOU'RE IN A PAINTING! And you can call to me all you want but there's no way I can...possibly..."
Oh great. Now there was a gull flying at her. It looked like it was going to--
"Wo!" She ducked. It just missed her head. Well, this is fun, she thought. She was never going to skip breakfast again. No siree Bob she wasn't. Just look what happened when she did: Moving pictures. Oh, check that: Pictures that came to life and called to her! She felt a hysterical laugh bubble in her throat. When the gull flew up into the corner and started pecking at the chain that held the painting suspended, it broke free. And of course the frame would tilt to one side, she thought, clutching her sides. And the water would start spilling out onto the floor like a swath of the clearest, finest silk. Of course, why not?
"I have totally lost it." A strange calm descended. That was it, she was insane. Clearly, not eating breakfast had more side affects than she'd previously imagined. No wonder they said it was the most important meal of the day. 1 comment
She watched the water rush towards her feet, watched it spread out across the floor and return to its original colour: a mixture of greens, blues and greys. As it hit the hem of her dress and bled upward it changed the fabric, seemed to...consume it, until it matched the sea, was part of it, one an extension of the other. 2 comments
And the walls! They were changing too, swirling like clouds caught in a strong wind, blowing up and up and up, into a stormy sky. They dispersed and stars appeared, as if the day were becoming night.
I’m in the painting, she realized in amazement. I'm really in the painting. Did the museum have any idea that this happened? The floor hadn't been wet when she'd stepped into the alcove. How many people had experienced this before her? Maybe the man calling to her was one of them. It certainly seemed possible. Maybe she could help the poor guy, yank him back to safety. Who knew how long he'd been trapped in there?
"Hello? Poor lost person?" Maybe he was handsome, and would be appreciative of her efforts on his behalf. Maybe he'd buy her breakfast, a great big lovely one. Eggs benedict with hashbrowns, and fruit on the side. Bye-bye lonely muffin.
"Come to me..."
"Yes, yes, you said that already. A few times. Got it--really. Are you perhaps....stuck in there?"
Okay, obviously he was a little slow on the uptake. Pancakes? she considered. She could live with pancakes. With sausages and butter, and syrup dripping down the--
"Come to me..."
"You know you really should keep another line handy," she yelled, annoyed, and really hungry now with all these thoughts of food. "That's kind of creepy you always using the same one. And could you maybe lighten the tone a smidge?"
"Come to--"
"All right, all right, I'm coming!" Fine, no pancakes, but he was going to buy her a coffee dammit!
Silence.
"Well, that's a step up I suppose," she grumbled. And speaking of steps, the mini waterfall seemed to have some ripples she might be able to use. What the heck nothing else made sense, so why not climb a waterfall? She hoisted her dripping skirts and sloshed toward it, lifted a sodden slipper-clad foot and gripped the wide frame. Hmmm, not as easy as it looked.
"Uh...could you gimme a hand?”
More silence. Perhaps he was pouting. Great. So much for the romantic image she'd been building in her head.
Ok, so it wasn't that romantic. He may be handsome but he was a lousy breakfast date.
She hauled her shapely (if she did say so herself) ass up, threw a leg over the frame and shoved off, into the beyond. 2 comments
