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!
