Disclosure: I own nothing! Also, I blame you for reading this, it's rated T for a reason, don't get too excited over it :P
Release Date: 5/15/15
Author Note: Here you are, Missing Portraits 3rd chapter! And it's even on time! Wow, aren't I impressive? This one's a bit short, there will be a lot more exposition in Sunday's chapter, so I guess you can look forward to that.
:) Hope you enjoy:
Chapter 3:
Almost the second she was out of the black cat's sight, an unease settled over Mary's shoulders, draping over her like a cloth. Something about him had calmed her, and now, the eeriness of the house had sunk back into her bones, leaving her in her previous terrified state. What am I getting so worked up over? Goodness. She took a deep, shaky breath, as she pressed forwards. The little room she had entered was quite compact, containing only a desk with a book open atop it and two flower vases. She realized that she wasn't holding her paint filled little container anymore, and wondered what had happened to it, thinking back though, she couldn't remember. Her fingers were still dyed with the same yellow pigment, which was just illuminated by the flickering candles in the room. This room had tears in its floor as well, which Mary nimbly avoided, trying not to get any splinters in her bare, unprotected feet. She entered the main foyer, where through the little windows at the top of two large, thick double doors a beautiful medley of orange could just be seen: the setting sun. Mary sighed happily, this room didn't hold the characteristic oppressiveness the rest of the house seemed to; she rested her fingertips against the wood, looking down at her feet. The red trail stopped at the doorway, where she assumed it continued on the other side. Oddly enough, though, it seemed to follow two different paths in this room, one splitting towards the entrance and one towards the direction where Mary's little bedroom was located. She followed the trail, turning at the narrow, claustrophobic corridor which branched off into her room. The soft ticking of a clock suddenly came into earshot, sending chills down her spine. Tick, tock, tick, tock. So rhythmic, so engrossing, she found herself stopped in front of an antique looking grandfather clock, looking up at its pretty face where all the numbers were scrambled in quite the wrong way. It was currently 14:95, Mary wondered what time that exactly was mildly, as she ripped her gaze from it, and continued into the little room to her right.
This room was in complete disarray, furniture thrown about, red splatters and pools of blackish looking liquid, there were no other doors leading out from the room, which confused Mary completely. "Do you like my dress?" The voice rang out, catching Mary by surprise. "I've gotten it dirty, how sad for me," it continued, as it approached from across the room. "It's very nice indeed," Mary politely replied, as she curtseyed, the dress mimicked her, and a giggle rang out in her mind. "Do you think you could show me to my room? I'm rather lost..." "Your room? All of the rooms in this house belong to Viola, my dear, don't get carried away." "Oh, but the cat said-" "Don't trust that masked demon, he's up to no good. Did he send you with a map?" Mary held out the thick piece of paper to her, swallowing a lump of fear in her throat. "Ah, you're not lost at all! It's just in the next room over, what are you having troubles with?" "But, there's no door..." "Ah, I see, human's and their doors, sometimes things aren't that convenient." The dress swished its way across the room, stopping in front of a large wardrobe. "Through here should be just fine."
"Thank you," Mary curtseyed once more, before disappearing into the mass of old, moth bitten clothes, emerging on the other side in a ball of tangled scarves and coats. "Now to get myself looking presentable," she murmured to herself, as she sat down in front of a small vanity stand and looked at her hair in the mirror. What on Earth am I supposed to do about this? As she combed through it with a little brush she found conveniently resting on the counter top, she mused to herself about her odd situation, and about the things she knew, didn't know, and needed to find out. It's obviously not the gallery, but if it's not the gallery, where am I? How on earth did I get here? I've never heard of any painting making it out alive... unless... Mary shook her head. That's impossible, there's no way, absolutely no way... She rested her arms on the table, staring at herself in the mirror. Right?
"I bet right now, at this very moment, you're asking yourself whether or not you're really human. Well? Am I right? Did I guess right, Mary?"
The cat did not, in fact, have any pressing business as he had claimed; and was thus left extremely bored, waiting for Mary's return. The house was big and empty, he could always go talk to the flowers, but was that really his only idea of fun? He shook his head, no. The cook was still chopping away, the kitchen had begun to emit smoke into the spacious dining room. The cat sneezed a bit, the smell was acrid and distasteful. With a large spring off of the table, he trotted over to the doorway which led towards the entrance to this house of horrors. He could see Mary's bloody footprints on the floor, where she had walked to get to her room. I wonder what's taking her so long... He paused for a bit, grooming his fur atop the table with the book on it. It was a rather nice book, it had that great smell that seemed to dwell in corner book shops; finding the smell to be rather pleasing himself, the cat settled himself on top of its pages, snuggling into the old, worn paper, and wearily closing his eyes.
Seconds later, they flew open again, as a loud, shrill scream permeated the silence of the room. The cat's fur bristled, and he stood upright, all drowsiness shook from him like water from a dog's coat after a swim. That... it couldn't have been... Viola?! He dashed off, his feet moving against his mind's will. I have to see her, just one more time... Out into the main hall, down the claustrophobic corridor without even a glance at the grandfather clock's handsome face. In the wardrobe, and out the other side, just in time to see Viola's possessed body give the new little blond girl a sweet, short kiss.