A/N: A very short little drabble about Elma Belle. Please tell me what you think!


As the door to the chamber was eased open with a decided creak, walls of portraits were revealed.

One bore a bride, caressed in folds of white fabric, a knowing smirk splashed across her features.

The next a pot of tea, steam whooshing out of its spout in a cloud of warning.

A coil of rope hidden by shadow was subject to the next, and then a flash of lightning, hovering above a vehicle's silhouette.

In the center of the room, the form of a woman was slumped over an easel, paintbrush still clutched loosely in her hand.

A lone raven perched on the window, posed regally, then took off into the silent night sky. A single drop of paint fell, blood red, onto the carpet, and the door slammed shut.


A/N: So how was it? Hope you didn't find it too short! Please review!