Chapter 9
Truth and Lies
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The paintings surrounding Ib suddenly spoke.
The voice was quiet and seemed to be of a man's but she wasn't so sure. It sounded a bit strange from the paintings.
"Hello," they said. "Did I scare you? I'm quite sorry. How are you today?" The voice paused. Ib frowned. Was she supposed to respond? Deciding that maybe it would be polite to respond (but to a painting?), she opened her mouth to reply, but then, they spoke again, cutting her off. "Oh, that's good. How? Well, at least you aren't quiet and unmoving as the other days." Pause. "I know you're not feeling all happy and dandy and all, but you seem sort of relieved. Or shocked. I can't tell." Pause. "Well, it's not my fault you've been putting on such a blank expression on whenever I visit! I'm sorry, but it seems you're the unfriendly one here." There was a sigh. The conversation continued. No names mentioned, just "you" and "I", etc.
Okay. So apparently these paintings aren't talking to her. But certainly not one another. So she decided to speak up.
"H-hello…? Anyone?" she managed out; it was hard to say it confidently since there was no actual person there.
The conversation stopped. Ib felt nervous and her face felt hot. She felt so stupid. She tried again. This time, however, aiming at the paintings. Just because.
"Uh…paintings?" No answer. "Um…weren't you paintings talking to someone?" She asked louder. The figures did not move.
Silence. "Hello?" Ib pressed the question again. Still no answer. Therefore Ib decided to just fake annoyance. "Seriously! What the hell, can't you person or painting, whichever, just f-(censored! =3= ~)-ing answer?" She almost yelled it. And good thing she did give a falsely angered response, because the voice responded.
"Oh no. No, no, no, no, no! NO! No cursing! Bad-mouth children these days! Hush and shush! Such disrespectful language! Don't say such things! Bad! What do parents these days teach them?! Don't they tell them what's good and bad?" the voice cried.
"Shut up," Ib growled, this time genuinely annoyed. "You're the one who didn't answer. Isn't that disrespectful?"
"Oh, you little brat. I welcome you back, and all you do is say rude things. You should be happy!" the voice snapped.
Ib blinked. "Welcome me back? What's that's supposed to mean? And if you're gonna talk to me, at least tell me why there are paintings here floating around! And who were you talking to? Who are you?"
"Who am I? How could you not know? I-!" The voice fell silent. Then: "Paintings? Where are you?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Ib scowled. The voice said, "Hmm…paintings…floating paintings, eh? Hm. Ah! I see! I interrupted your game! I'm very sorry, I did not realize that you managed to get here so fast. How did you do it? If you answer the question, then I might transfer you out! Simple!"
Ib hesitated. Then she replied, cautiously, "Mary." Somehow, she knew that the name was enough to answer the question.
There was a passing silence.
"Oh? That is true. Honesty, eh? That's a good trait! Very good!" There was a few seconds delay of clapping. "However, you could have lied to me. I did not know that she was actually with you. I thought that she was traveling away from you, or found a different path to me. Too bad though, I can't let you go. She and I… well, we're not good friends. And since you traveled with her, I can't let you live either. So goodbye, and hopefully you won't die painfully!" There was laughter.
"What? Hey!" Ib yelled in protest and confusion. He was not making any sense. "What do you mean?!" she shouted, but the laughter was already fading.
And then the paintings began to move.
In unison, each with a different voice, they spoke: "Welcome to the Liar's Room!"
Ib glared at the one wearing red. "What?"
It ignored her, but instead of all the figures, it shouted aloud by itself: "Answer the following questions we're going to ask you! Some are true and false, others are just questions that require simple answers!"
Ib was about to yell back "no way", when the brown one suddenly piped up, "No need to be specific! We know, we know. It's alright." Its voice had some kind of gentleness to it. Or was it sympathy?
But the other ones did not agree with being nice to Ib. They screamed, "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! LIES!" Their arms waved around in anger. Some pounded on their frames, others waving their fists.
The brown one flinched, and mumbled, "I am sorry."
The others quieted down. The red one shook his head. Ib decided to call the brown guy "Brownie". Partly because he was wearing brown, and because she was hungry. (She considered calling him Poopy, but that was kind of rude.)
"Alright," announced the one in yellow. "First question: What's your favorite color?"
"…Red," Ib replied, surprised that they were asking easy questions. It's going to get harder isn't it?
"Favorite flower?"
"Rose…"
"Kindergarten teacher?"
"Why…? …Ms. Pen."
The questions continued. It went from past to present. They did not ask any private questions, like her crush or anything. Just shareable information.
Then, thirty-four questions later, the red one, who seemed to be the leader, hollered, "Continue! No break time."
"Aw!" the others cheered in unison. Brownie muttered, "No." No one heard him other than Ib.
The paintings began to chatter and giggle and scream once in a while. Brownie was obviously excluded. Why? Ib wondered. And why don't they make sense? Whatever they say doesn't match with their emotions.
Ib felt sorry for Brownie. So she decided to try and tell others. She coughed loudly. She was ignored. She tried again, still failing.
"Hey!" Ib snapped, her voice loud. The paintings silenced and turned to her. A chill went up her spine. Even though they lacked facial features, she could feel them staring at her. She forced down the creepiness she was getting, and stared straight at the red one. "Why don't you talk to the brown one?" she demanded.
Brownie whimpered and whispered, "Stop. Please stop." Ib turned to look at him. "But they're ignoring you!" Brownie shook his head. "No—"
"Why? Why? WHY?!" the red one suddenly screamed. "Liar! He's—he's…!"
"You!" the one in green wailed. "Who is she?"
"Who?"
"Mary! Who is she to you? Who is she?!" the rest of them, still excluding Brownie, screamed.
"What?" Ib stared at a random painting. "Why are you asking questions about her now?"
"Shut up!" the red one's voice burst out. "Answer the question! We're the ones asking questions here!" Suddenly, the red one climbed partly out. It's head and upper body stuck out of the painting, leaning towards Ib. One of its fists reached out and tried to grab her.
Ib staggered back. "She's my sister. Mary's my sister!"
"You…"
A voice that Ib had never heard of suddenly appeared. It was soft and sounded shocked. That was all she could get through her mind before the main five paintings suddenly burst from their frames.
"Liar! Liar! LIAR!" They screamed again in unison. Suddenly, a stick appeared in each hand of each figure, lit with a blazing and hot fire.
"No!" cried Brownie, his soft voice hardly getting over the louder of the five. He too was holding two torches.
"'Lies?' How! She's my sister, dammit!" Ib yelped as a torch flew past her, passing uncomfortably close.
"Shut up! You're lying! Liar! We'll burn you! Burn you into aaasheesss!" The last word was given a mocking melody to it. They five began to laugh. High-pitched shrieks of mad laughter filled the room as they advanced toward Ib. Damn, how am I supposed to get out of this one?
They were circling her, quickly closing in. The fires grew slightly larger in size and turned from red and yellow to a flickering and amazing hue of blue, then to blinding white.
They were only twenty feet away.
Among the cries of "Liar", Brownie shouted, "Truth! She speaks the truth! It's her memories!"
Memories?
Ib didn't bother to think about it. She didn't want to die here. In this stupid, haunted world? No way.
"Mary!" Ib screamed in desperation.
What's wrong with my memories?
Suddenly, in response, a door appeared right in front of Ib.
Was I here before?
The sight of the door boosted Ib's spirits. She immediately grabbed the door knob. She didn't really care at this point where this lead to. It didn't matter if the place she went to had a bunch of things a ten times freakier than what was here now. She just didn't want to die a burning, painful death.
Unfortunately, the door also encouraged the figures, too. They shouted excitedly and in anger at Ib. Their speed changed from a taunting, threatening and slow walk to a faster-paced scurry.
Their furious chant of "Liar" became rapid and connected.
Ib twisted the door knob hard and shove the door open.
This seems so familiar.
The paintings were around ten feet away.
Ib stepped through the door and saw Mary. She grabbed Ib's hand and pulled her through.
The figures were very close to the door, screaming bloody murder. Panicked, Ib slammed the door shut.
The shouts suddenly quieted once the door was closed. Every one of them was shut in the white room.
Ib gasped and shuddered. She was facing the door, hand still on the knob.
"Ugh," Ib muttered and slumped down, back facing the door.
"Are you okay Ib?" Mary's voice came from above.
"Sure," Ib replied tiredly. "Dang. That was not cool."
"What was?"
"…Huh?" Ib looked up. Mary was looking at her a bit weirdly.
"Oh. You didn't see them even though they were screaming for my death right at the door?"
Mary's expression became concerned. "Are you okay Ib? There was no one at the door. You never even opened it."
Ib blinked. "What?! But I went in there! There were these six paintings asking questions! And then I answered a question wrong…" Ib suddenly remembered. They were yelling at, calling her liar when she replied that Mary was her sister. That made no sense to her, since the other answers were also true. "I answered a question wrong and then they got mad and then tried to burn me with flames."
Mary did not reply. Her gaze had been averted to the door on the other side. After a few seconds, she said, "Alright. Explain it me later. This is already too confusing."
Ib looked at her sister curiously. "…Okay."
Just then, there were six loud bangs coming from the walls, three from each side.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Ib jumped up, bewildered at the sudden noises. She scooted away from the door leading to the white room to the door that led to this room. Then she saw that the white paintings now had color. At first she was confused—the black faceless figures from the white room were now each in a painting frame. They were still and unmoving, in various positions. One had its arms crossed, and the rest had theirs waving all over. The torches were nowhere in sight. Ib even noticed that the labels under the artworks changed.
"Whoa, um, Ib? Are these guys the ones you saw behind the door?" Mary asked. Ib stared at Brownie. Both his arms were up, which could've either meant "hurray" or "I surrender". The red guy had one arm raised above his head (a little bent), and the other across its chest.
"…Yes," Ib finally replied. "They had torches, and they were scary. The room I was in was white like the paintings…before…" Then an idea struck her. "Mary, open the door."
"Er, okay," Mary mumbled, and then stepped back. She opened the door wide open.
And inside was…
A tiled room with a strange full-body statue. Everything was a soft, light gray color, close to white. The walls and ceiling were the same color as the background of the paintings—a dark color.
It certainly was not a pure white room with no shadows.
Ib realized what had happened then.
A/N: (Okay, I'll need to somehow explain the problem =n='' If I can't then I'll change the plot ;n; Just so you know: to be honest, I'm not exactly plotting everything clearly, and even if I do, I'll usually end up changing it as I write…. n'')
Uhh… =~='' I hope you enjoyed it =u=~