Sometimes I like to paint or sketch just to vent. Sometimes I like to write to vent. But most of the time I just paint. But lately, I haven’t felt like doing so. It’s weird. I used to do it every day, filling the canvas with the brightest and most vibrant acryllic paints availabe to me. Now, anytime I pick up my paintbrush the only thing that comes onto the hairs of it are blacks, greys and brown.
Before you get the wrong idea, I am not here to vent. I have a story I want to tell.
A few days ago, I decided enough was enough and forced myself over to my art studio. It is small, but efficient. I picked up the brush and thought for a moment. Nothing came to my mind specifically that I wanted to make, so I just put down some colors on my pallette and dipped my brush into the grey. I swiped it against the canvas, and felt nothing. I swiped it again. Still nothing.
I do not remember what happened during the time period of me swiping a stroke across the canvas, and me coming to my senses, but I know something did. Because the thing I created was absolutely mortifying.
Over the course of 7 minutes I had created something so utterly terrifying I had scared myself. The background itself was black. There was a person, or some type of a person, standing in the void of blackness. It’s eyes stared into mine, more realistic than anything I had painted before. It’s mouth was curled into the most eyebending smile I had ever seen. It would have put the Joker to shame. It’s body was frail and naked, only showing from the waist up. The most terrifying part though, was it’s chest. The entirety of its chest was open. The ribs were pulled apart into wing like forms, and all of it’s internal organs were seen.
I have never taken any sort of anatomy class other than the basics in school. After some further research, I found out everything was in the right place and looked identical to photographs.
I do not want to believe that I had painted that. It’s horrifying, glossy eyes. It’s petrifying smile. And the open rib-winged chest. I really don’t wanna believe that I created it. But who else could’ve? I was the only one there. I was the only one I knew that could possibly paint it, and even that was a far stretch.
The painitng itself isn’t even the scariest part. It is the fact that I saw it. Actually saw it in the real world. I was walking home one night from a late night out with my friends, and was listening to my favorite song. I looked up from whistling and saw it standing just in the shadows of a lightpost. This was exactly 24 hours after I painted it. I was so terrified I couldn’t move. Then it started to walk towards me. That is when I screamed and ran.
I don’t know what to do. It is in my dreams. It is in my head all the time. I have even named it Skotádi. It means darkness in Greek. I am utterly terrified and I don’t know what to do. It’s driving me crazy. I can’t sleep. Or eat. Or drink. I think it’s here right now.