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| Forgotten City |
The painting had been
moved, he knew it.
“How do you know?”
the police officer asked.
He tilted his head
left and right slowly, trying to find an answer but the painting looked
untouched.
The situation was
rather unusual, he had to admit. When he got home from work, he had the
impression that there was someone in the house. Then, as he walked through the
rooms to make sure there was no one there, he stopped in the office, in front
of the painting. He looked at it carefully. It was straight, as always. He was
very picky about paintings being straight. It was not damaged. It looked as it
had always looked and yet he felt that someone had touched it.
“Was the front door
open, when you got home?” asked the police officer.
“No, it was closed.”
“Does anyone else
have the key to your house?”
He shook his head; he
would never give the key to his home to anyone.
“Is anything missing
from the house?” the police officer continued.
He shook his head
again.
Then he remembered.
He had seen this documentary on television about objects coming to life.
Apparently it was something scientists had recently discovered.
“Perhaps…” he started.
“Yes?”
“Well, perhaps the…
painting… came to life…”
The police officer
looked at his colleagues and back at him.
“To life…?”
“Yes, I watched this
documentary…” As soon as he had started talking, he regretted it.
“Sir, I seriously
doubt an object would come to life,” said the police officer. “I think our work
is done here. Is there anything else we can do for you?”
He shook his head and
everyone left. I am imagining things,
he thought, I am getting old. He went
back to the office and looked at the painting. There was something different
about it; he just couldn’t figure out what.
As he walked to the
kitchen, he heard a loud thump coming from the office. He hastily grabbed a
knife and walked back.
The whole office had
turned blue, and a mass of sackcloth coming from the painting quickly wrapped
around him, dragging him, pulling him. Confused, he tried to free himself… to
no avail.
“Hello? Police?”
“Yes, Ma’am. How can
we help you?”
“I am Mr. Foster’s
neighbor. I haven’t seen him since that day when the police came over to his
house. I am kind of worried about him…”
“Ok, Ma’am, I’ll
dispatch a unit to Mr. Foster’s house to check if he is alright.”
The door was closed,
no one answered. The police officers had to knock it down. They walked
throughout the whole house. It was empty.
Mr. Foster tried to
yell for help, with no success. He was now part of the blue. The painting had
come to life and taken him. The documentary was right. Progressively, the
objects all over the world would make humans feel fragile, very fragile, once
more…
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