The Painting

The Painting
February 5, 2007

Helen first spotted the painting at a yard sale.

The golden frame leapt out from the other mundane objects on the lacy tablecloth, and the swashes of color were vibrant amongst the dull silver trinkets that accompanied it.

"Hey! Hey, how much for this painting?" Helen asked the old woman tending the tables. She waved towards the golden square with a slender finger.

The elderly woman looked over. "Oh? That old thing? I'll give to you for... say, 5 dollars?"

"Done!" As an art collector, and one might say a connoissuer, Helen knew the value of the simple painting was far more than 5 dollars. In fact, the thick oils of the abstract female form were at least a few hundred dollars.

Handing over a bill, Helen hoisted the heavy painting into her back seat. The picture featured a nude woman, her back to the observer, facing off into the horizon. Her thin arms wrapped her body protectively, as if modesty and embarassment were on her mind.

***

The picture matched the wallpaper perfectly, Helen noticed gladly, as she puttered around her kitchen preparing dinner. The steams from the stovetop obscured the picture for a second, bathing it in a thin mist. The haze only made the painting more mysterious and alluring.

"Oops!" Helen bent down to pick up the spoon she had knocked off the maple counter. A stain of tomato sauce splattered across the room. Looking up, Helen saw a drop of the red stuff smeared across the painting, marking the woman's back. "Shit..."

Heading to the sink to get a cloth, Helen's foot met with an overlooked splat of sauce. With a gasp, she fell hard on the tiles. A sharp pain came from her back as the spoon dug into her skin.

Rising painfully to her feet, Helen rubbed her back painfully. Teeth and eyes clenched, she felt a wet, slippery liquid dribbling from her fingers. Taking a glance, she saw blood running like water off her fingers.

***

When she woke up, something had changed.

The painting in the kitchen was different. Very different. Helen only noticed it when turning the radio on, and out of the corner of her eye. She searched her house, but no doors had been unlocked, no prankster had been inside to change the picture. So she was confused to see that the picture today... was not the one she had bought yesterday.

The woman in the painting now was adorned in a beautiful fur coat, with a handbag stuffed with dollar bills.

With a shiver of paranoia creeping up her spine, Helen studied the painting closely. It wasn't painted over. In fact, the golden frame hadn't been removed, and the oils looked ancient, as if the painting had been masterfully drawn and finished with the fur coat included.

Then the radio announcer began blaring out numbers. Helen didn't register the voice until something began to nag at her very hard.

"And 24! Thanks for playing the 649! Jackpot is 25 million ladies and gents, so make sure you check your tickets!"

With a sense of detachment, Helen removed her ticket from the purse on the table. "And again! Those numbers are 2, 4, 28, 46, 42, 32, and 24!"

The ticket read 2, 4, 28, 46, 42, 32 and 24.

Helen glanced at the painting. No, it couldn't be... or could it? The woman's fur coat, the Louis Vutton handbag full of cash...

That day, Helen went out and bought herself a fur coat, and a Louis Vutton handbag. She almost felt like she didn't deserve it.

***

And the next day, the painting was changed again.

This time, the woman in the golden frame was not alone. A tall man stood beside her, with his arm pressed across her shoulders. He too, looked off into the distance, staring at the horizon.

Taking a close, eager look, Helen noticed the clipboard in his hand, the tidy suit he was wearing, and his polished shoes. She stared hungrily at his physique, taking in his appearance.

Ding! The doorbell interrupted her thoughts. Sighing, she danced down the hallway and opened the door.

"Hello ma'am, I'm taking a survey on... Ma'am?" The surveyor asked the open-mouthed Helen, as he tapped on his clipboard and brushed lint off his immaculate suit.

***

The next morning, Helen woke up next to Dave and snuck out, making sure not to wake him. Putting her feet into pink slippers, she slid downstairs to take a look at what her day held for her.

The painting was inscrutable in the dark. Helen flicked on the lights.

The image in the golden frame...

There was nothing. Nothing but the endless horizon and the setting sun. The lady had mysteriously vanished, along with the man.

Helen stared confusedly. Was she going to take a trip?

Staring closer, Helen noticed that there was something left in the frame. A small blob of color on the bland ground.

A small spot of red. Whatever could that mean?

***

The next day, the officers took Dave into custody for second-degree murder. Turns out Helen's lottery win didn't go unnoticed.

Strangely, the police did find a very odd painting hanging above the stove. A square of perfect black, in a golden frame.