I was never one to judge someone…
After all I was the nicest person I knew. I didn’t know many people but I did occasionally talk to people. It’s been about six years now, no one knows what actually happened because I figured a mental hospital wouldn’t be the way to go. I don’t know why I’m posting this, but maybe someone will believe me…
Anyway, on with the “story”. I said I “ was never one to judge someone “ but I didn’t mention other things, including the painting in my grandma’s house.
My grandma wasn’t the one who had bought the photo, it was actually Nannny, my great grandmother, who is dead now. I don’t know where she got it but the painting was one of the 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 ones of the bunch.
The painting was an old one, fixed in a swamp-like setting. The painting consisted of a clothed,white silhouette and a naked black silhouette. The white man was pointing at an improvised raft made of a fallen tree, while the black man was slaving away at the wood.
The most mysterious thing wasn’t the racist painting at all, it was what was in the swamp. In the swamp (it seems like I’m the only one who noticed it) there was a shadow-like man that seemed to have half of his skull brutaly bashed in, while still living though.
I told my grandparents multiple times, but with their eyesight they couldn’t see the evil figure I guessed.
I never liked going to my grandparents house because of that picture.when there I usually just played on their old computer so the only time it bothered me was when I had to walk through the halls (to my bedroom).
One specific night I had woken up at around 2:50 am and had to use the bathroom. Now I knew well enough that the hallway at night was dimly lit and the light was positioned under the picture. It took me almost 20 minutes to muster up the “courage” ,I guess that’s what I would describe it as, to go to the bathroom.
As I entered the hall I realized something was wrong though. From former experiences I knew the walls should look real and be a dimly lit yellow color, but as I looked around the walls looked blue. The blue walls weren’t the only red flag, as I noticed the hall was now a dead end and the painting, that stupid painting, that I had hated for so long.
I’m not a horror movie character l, so I had the smart idea to turn around and go back in my room. It’s safe to say that if that door was still there, I wouldn’t be where I am now.
The door was gone.
I turned back around realising the hallway had gotten shorter while my back was turned. I was fed up with this paranormal stuff, I didn’t care if I had to pee in my pants to leave, I wanted just to leave that room.
The picture was closer now, I decided it would be my only way out because if u tried to stay I would fall asleep and the walls might crush me.
I slowly crept towards the end of the hallway thinking life couldnt get much worse. And then it did. I don’t know what 𝘩𝘦 was but whatever he was he didn’t like me.
The dark shadow crawled out of the painting at an alarming rate, it’s seemingly already dead body being dragged around by whatever decided to reanimate it.
I looked at it with utter fear, as the moving corpse lunged at me with full force. He tried to scratch at me with his overgrown nails. I punched at his arm in retaliation, and surprisingly stopped his attack.
While I wasn’t watching though his other arm, a tentacle-like spike, had drowned itself in my left arm.
I screamed but no sound was made.
I wondered for a second if I was in Hell, but I figured “Hell” wasn’t my grandparents house. Wherever I was it wasn’t my grandparents house though.
I dropped to the floor in agonising pain. I looked at my arm, which was now completely mangled at my elbow and only hanging on by the bone and some strands of muscle.
My back was next, getting scratched by his giant nails, adding tears and rips, but I got lucky as his nails didn’t hit the bone.
I was now bleeding profusely an trying not to touch my arm. The shadow must have decided to spare me that day, because I closed my eyes breifly and was back in my grandparents house.
After that I was rushed to the hospital and by he grace of God, I lived. My arm and back slowly healed and I re-learned how to use my arm.
I am typing this out to warn people…
do not trust the shadow in the painting.