Author Note:
AGH I'm sorry I couldn't write for so long (2 days IS a long time for me) please keep reviewing, I try to take criticism the best I can, and really appreciate viewer advice! (I wrote almost about 1.5 times the length of the other chapters because I haven't written in a while) Keep reading please .
Thanks! Love chu all~
Chapter 3:
Ib pulled up to the Gallery. She parked carelessly, finding the first available spot. It was on her way to the entrance that she first noticed she was shaking. She had eaten her sandwich on the way here, and was already beginning to regret it. The front lobby was cluttered with dozens of tourists and art enthusiasts, she pushed past them, standing in front of the long desk and glancing at the woman behind it. "Guertena. Nothing else, just the show." The woman nodded, extending a hand for Ib's payment. Seconds later, Ib stood before the large doors, her trembling had visibly increased. What is there to be scared of? It's an ART Gallery. Not a horror movie. Ib had always had terrible experiences with horror movies. A memory drifted back to her, one from a couple of years ago.
"What's this movie called again?"
"Dolly and her friends," her friend Josie from high school had commented.
"Dolly?"
"It's the sequel to that popular gore movie. I've heard it's really good. You like horror right? I never really thought to ask..."
"Oh yeah, I'm good with it."
Ib had not been 'good with it'. Halfway through the movie she was shaking, having a full on panic attack in the middle of the theater. Josie had been extremely frightened by her friends behavior, and to this day had never asked her to watch another movie.
A woman behind her coughed loudly; Ib shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Today had been a bad day for dreaming. She pressed forwards, through the thick crowd. Guertena. The name echoed hollowly in her mind, it was everywhere. Every wall contained the word at least 15 times. Ib felt her breathing get shallower, as her heart rate increased. The gallery was nothing but ordinary. It reminded her of every other museum in New York; white, clean, and full of tourists. The paintings around her were familiar in an odd way, like old childhood friends, calling to her from the past...
/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\
Garry stepped out of the small door, and into the artificial light. The high-pitched music attacked his ears, while his eyes probed the scene before him. Ib. Where the hell has that girl gotten off to? He took a hesitant step forwards, cautiously scanning the path for mannequins, dolls, and... Mary. He wondered where Mary was, almost as much as he wondered where Ib was. He proceeded forth, his rose clutched protectively to his side. His health was improving rapidly; he wondered how he had gotten his rose back, and how it was in such good shape. The sketchbook was empty, the only signs of life he could see were butterflies, flitting around in tiresome circles. He was alone with the music. He took the time to stop at a diary, they were all over the place in Guertena's galleries. Garry would stop at almost every one he came across, taking a short amount of time to write a small entry; it helped him keep track of time, and blow off some steam. Writing had always been a close second to art in Garry's list of hobbies, and to sit down and do something so... normal sometimes helped him feel better about this whole situation. He signed his name with a flourish, standing and stretching his back. Where should I go now? He looked lazily around the block, as though a trail of breadcrumbs would appear to show him the way. I guess I might take a look around, see if I can find either of them. He started off towards the pink house in the center of the square, and tried the knob. Locked. He also tried knocking, but his efforts were futile. This is going to be a long day. He thought as he walked off in another direction, ready to try every door.
/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\
Red took her position in the group of ladies. They were all here, all colors of the rainbow. Yellow crawled forward, taking center stage. She began to speak in the language of color, her tongue swirling syllables into the air that danced and twisted like smoke.
"Today, we bring back Lady Mary," she said calmly. "The painting isn't completely destroyed, so it should be salvageable. First we must gather her ashes, Green, you Violet, and Orange work on that." The mentioned three crawled off in different directions, starting to scoop up the piles of dirty black ash that swirled around the floor. "Red, you Blue and I can work on getting the sewing materials and painting supplies."
"We're going to put her back together? Is that even POSSIBLE?" Blue asked.
"We will make it possible if we have to. My fallen sister, our fallen sister, deserves to be back with us again, does she not?" Blue fell silent, nodding slightly.
"Well then, what are we waiting for?" Red asked, flicking a long, thick strand of her hair behind her shoulder. Blue shrugged, and crawled off with Red. Yellow lingered for a while, staring up at Mary's painting.
"I hope you are not in pain, my dearest," she brushed her fingertips against the ravaged canvas. "We will get you back soon." She pressed her lips to the wounded skin of the painting lightly, before turning away. "You always did enjoy company." It was easy to hear the tears that choked her voice, like watching black paint run down a blank canvas.
/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\
Ib looked around hopelessly. Her chest was constricted, her breath coming in short, quick gasps. She didn't recognize anyone or anything; anything but the word that attacked her, taunted her. Guertana... The lights overhead seemed to flicker slightly. Ib stumbled forwards, into a room without any guests. The music of the gallery had gone silent. She was alone. The painting seemed recognizable enough, although she couldn't tell from where. She squinted, for the first time realizing that her vision was blurry with tears. She stumbled towards it, her heart hammering, and her fingers shaking extremely badly. She was getting close now, the painting was only a few steps away...
Something broke behind her, it sounded distinctly like glass.
Ib was just close enough to get a glimpse of the caption when the lights gave out. The Forgotten Portrait. But it wasn't the same painting it had been before...
The man inside it was gone.
/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\
Garry had just tried the last door. Locked. The hollow sound of knobs turning cut through the nightmare with an eerie sort of clarity. Garry took a step closer to the last door, knocking loudly on it. No response. Where is she? Where could she have- His own thought was cut short by the sound of scraping, heading towards him. It sounded like metal on metal, or fingernails on chalkboard or... Garry dove for the tulips next to him, making himself as small as possible.
"Where's Yellow? Wasn't she just behind us?" Red said to Blue, as they crawled forwards. Garry blinked twice. They can talk?
"Give the girl some time, she was talking to Mary," Blue said, in an almost annoyed voice. Garry began to pay more attention to the Ladies, than the dialogue between them. It was remarkable really, they weren't speaking necessarily, it was more of a morse code type of thing. It was hard to explain, but as Garry thought about it, it made more and more sense. They weren't using their larynges to produce noise, they were...painting. The air in front of their mouths swirled lightly with the color that came from their mouths. To an adept painter like Garry, they were like words, different colors stood for different moods, The Lady in Blue exhaled a cloud of green as she murmured a sarcastic retort. Red's head was shrouded in a reddish sort of haze, signifying her annoyance and impatience. It wasn't very noticable, some of the changes in color were only different by a fraction of a pigment. The amounts of color changed too, the more there was, the higher and more demanding the voice.
"We are all upset about what happened to her and all, but dont you think Yellow is going a bit overboard?" Red demanded, in a thick exhalation of orange, which Garry interpreted as confusion. Marry, they are talking about her aren't they?
"None of us really know what went down, but the canvas was pretty wrecked... I think it's just shock, her and Yellow were always pretty close." Blue murmured in a swipe of purple.
They had stopped crawling feet away from Garry, and were now deeply immersed in their conversation. The colors from previous words, Garry noted, were already fading, slowly twisting away from both of them, into the music filled air of the Sketchbook.
"RED! BLUE! WAIT UP!" A Lady dressed in yellow crawled towards them.
"Finally." Red grumbled.
"We're glad you showed." Blue murmured compassionately. Garry watched them resume crawling, right past him. It was only once they were out of earshot, or more 'eye-shot' that he realized how uncomfortable he was. He righted himself, groaning slightly. Maybe I should follow them... He thought as he massaged his shoulder. It's better than nothing right? He set off down the crayon streets in a swirl of dark black fabric.