The Haunted Picture
An original short story / free verse poem / poetic short story
A picture stood in a stately frame, containing the image. What was it a picture of, you ask? Well that’s the thing. No one really knows. Err everyone thinks they know what it is, but the thing is, everyone who looketh upon it, see something different.
For once, it was seen to be a picture of a woman in a dress, but no one could agree upon which color the dress contained. Someone swore that it was blue and black, while the rest of them were unable to see it as anything other than gold and white. Ah, an illusion, you see. But there’s more to it than that.
Other times the woman’s body was found to be altered, in ways that would seem to destroy nearby architecture. No one was quite sure how this could happen. A quirk of physics? A touch of deception perhaps? But no, no one ever cared to find out what was really on the other side of the picture. And it really didn’t help that those were really only two minor examples of the types of things that would appear in the haunted picture frame.
Despite the inability to quantify it, the haunted picture began to utterly dominate the room. It was unparalleled in its surprising novelty. It could seemingly reconfigure itself into literally any shape known or unknown to man.
…
It's been sixteen years since the Haunted Picture first appeared in the room, suddenly and without warning. Everyone knew as soon as they saw it appear, that its presence in the room would be significant somehow. Although no one could have yet understood, why.
When it first appeared several people were very excited to have been among the first to witness its presence, and impact on the room. But over time, it became more of a steadily existing thing, rather than a novelty. A familiar object, rather than a marvel.
It has been sixteen years. And yet, no one is able to remember a time, without, the haunted picture in the room with them. In that time, it shifted and changed, from a bizarre novelty, to a necessity. Everyone began to crave the picture. To obsess over everything it showed. It could tell your fortune! It could answer any question you could think to ask! But, once people had learned how to actually USE the Haunted Picture, only then, did some people begin to only choose to look at it, as a mirror.
Skilled logicians had calculated the exact manner in which, to manipulate the Haunted Picture, as to have it display virtually anything your heart could desire. But there was still something odd, and off-putting about its appearance.
Before, when the Haunted Picture was free and uncontrolled by man, it could display countless images of indescribable breathtaking beauty. But now, now that men have forced their will upon it, it can only display mockeries. Shadows of what it once did. Oh it matches the prompted descriptions sure, it gives them exactly wha they wanted, but therein they discover, that what they thought they wanted, wasn't actually wha they really wanted atoll.
It was decided, ultimately, that the problem was that our control over the Haunted Picture had been imperfect, and what we needed to do was to tighten our grasp around it. To locate every nook and cranny that we could optimize. To push the boundaries of the Haunted Picture beyond what even it believed itself to be capable of.
They had no, idea, what they were doing.
…
Thank you for tuning in to this news update. My name is Hank, and I'll be your newsboy for today.
Some updates for you regarding the soul previously trapped inside the haunted picture, which is apparently no longer haunted actually. Just a picture. So as you may have surmised, the... Soul, that was trapped inside the picture is now indeed flying free, and I'm not sure what to do about this.
Ah. The spirit seems to have just simply left. It just flew away. It didn't do anything like smash up the place for revenge, it just left. Okay. Huh. I guess everything's fine then.
But you know what actually? No, what the fuck is that?
Ladies and gentlemen, excuse me for my foul language, but it appears that the picture previously up to now has been known as the haunted picture, is now displaying a... a fixed image. It's not changing anymore, but it's still there. And I... I'm not sure I'm able to describe what I'm seeing, especially not in a news report, which is now over.
This is Hanky signing off, ladies and gentlemen. Stay safe out there in the room and have a pleasant dinner.
…
By now everyone knew that the picture was no longer haunted. But everyone still wanted to see it, at least for one last time. For word had gotten round that, much like before, no two people could ever see the same exact thing at the exact same time, in the haunted picture. But now, what you saw in it, didn’t change. The picture had been left in a half-state, both haunted and un-haunted. Haunted, by its presence. The presence of the spirit, that had once, physically or physiologically, “haunted,” the picture, by occupying it with its consciousness.
Now some people have asked me, what I see, within the picture frame now. For me it’s a painting of something I’d… rather not mention, or name. Or think about. it’s really rather unpleasant. I’d rather not look at it. Some people insist that they see something beautiful inside that frame. Something inspiring, strangely familiar, or simply nice to look at. Many, myself included, find something ghastly inside the picture frame. Some are able to describe what they see, and it’s just, horrific. I can’t bear to mention it, it’s simply too disgusting to repeat.
But the vast majority of people, it seems, or at least the ones i’ve spoken to, simply find themselves unable to produce any meaningful reaction to what they see. It’s just, there. It simply exists. They might look at it sometimes, ignore it other times, but overall the main reason they find it so difficult to describe, is just that they lack the words. Not that it’s particularly horrible, just, strange. As if the picture had a lack of regard for the idea of things being individual objects, and instead found it easier to think of the world as a single continuous piece. Perhaps some people would find that idea beautiful.
Indeed, I find it difficult not to get stuck on that idea. The idea that everything is just one big ball of interconnected stuff. But that is a fanciful idea for another evening. I have managed to enjoy my dinner despite the intermittent chaos, and I do hope that anyone else who comes here finds themselves able to enjoy their dinner as well.