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Paintings

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When you look at paintings what do you see? Do you see a land full of untold adventures or just a picture? Well, when I was younger, about five years old at the most, we would go to an art museum everyday. Often, I’d find myself staring at a single painting for more than an hour. You may see a picture, but I see something much more, a world that only I can create.


Eight years had passed by, each year feeling like a day and eight years since I had gone to the art museum, which is presently closed up. All I think about is that museum. Its name so grand, “See to Believe: Museum of Art.” Will I ever walk its frigid, marble floors again? Even worse, will I ever be able to finish where I had left off?



Morning arrived without a warning, but the sound of my alarm singing in the musty morning light. It was a wonderful fall day, full of many colors such as greens, gold’s, browns, oranges, and yellows. Thinking that this day couldn’t get any better, my friend and I had decided we were going to visit the museum.



My friends name is Julie. Julie is a great friend, someone that’ll always be there for me and that’s why we’ve been best friends since second grade. Although Julie can be a pain in the butt sometimes, I’m still there for her. Like the time her wavy brown hair got caught in my brother’s electronic airplane. Of course I hollered at him but what else could I do? Boys are boys and I have a mother who really doesn’t care much about what we do.


I quickly threw my clothes on and did my super quick teeth brushing job. After that, it was a stroll across the street and we’d be on our way to some serious fun and mischief.


Julie and I walked out the front door and began strolling across the barren street, nonchalantly, carrying our absurdly large backpacks. We tried as hard as we could to not look suspicious.



We snuck behind the large detailed museum and into a broken window. There was a large shard of glass sticking out from the top of the window frame. I nicked the side of my shoulder and blood was slowly oozing out. I quickly grabbed the small bag of AID supplies and had Julie help me put some antibiotics on the gash and wrap it up in some tape.



I’m not surprised that kind of thing doesn’t get to me because I’m not very sensitive and can withstand most anything. Julie on the other hand was worried. “Are you okay!?” “Do you need anything else?” “Are you sure you want to do this?” It all went on for about 15 minutes, approximately the time I was done bandaging the cut up. She said one last comment, “I’m hungry,” crossing her arms around her stomach as we walked out of what looked like the lobby and went into the main hallway.



Walking through the wide now dreary hallways, I started having flashbacks of the once colorful paintings that blanketed the walls and ceilings. Each painting had its own special theme, I reached out to touch a painting and fell forward into a bushel of spider webs. “Hey, are you okay?” Julie asked confused at what just happened. The painting that was full of color then became distorted and dark.



“Yeah, I’m fine.” I stood up to find insects swarming the floor. Each insect was small and the color of a late afternoon sunset. Julie was already running towards a ladder perched up against a wall. Just by looking at the ladder, I knew it wasn’t going to hold. Sure enough, Julie took one step on the ladder and it toppled to the floor, Julie following not far behind. The bugs were getting closer and closer. They’re large pinchers as sharp and shiny as a butcher knife.



I knew the longer Julie lied on the floor and cried for dear life, the more of a chance it would be of us being dinner. I took Julie’s hands and dragged her across the hallway and into a dark room, which smelled of paint.




I put Julie in a waiting chair and looked around the room. This is where they’d mend their paintings. I walked around examining the marble countertops and walked back to where I had set Julie.




All of a sudden, I was shot into some near world, with only a travel time of nearly two seconds. I thought of why these flashbacks are happening but I realized this didn’t feel like a flashback, it was real. I was in a painting, more formally known as Starry Night, by Vincent Van Gough. It was a beautiful painting, stars twinkling in the night. Just as I sat down, I was back in reality, back at the museum.




I found Julie on the ground holding a necklace, my necklace. “Hey, where’d you find that?” I asked confused.



“It was next to this waiting chair, in a pile of dirt from an old flower pot…” Then, in the blink of an eye, we were shot into the past, but still in the museum. That’s when I realized, that whenever someone thinks of a place in time, we are sent there, but not forever.



I noticed Julie had been thinking the same thing because she was there too, her cheeks stained from tears and I didn’t know why. I couldn’t find out, because she couldn’t hear me, not now, not here. I noticed myself as a little girl, about five, walking towards my favorite painting, Mona Lisa, and then saw Julie tug off my necklace and shove it into a plant, in which she had just found it in. I looked at her in disgrace and wished I hadn’t seen that.


Then, as if we were there just to see the point of everything, we were summoned back to the museum. I looked at Julie, her eyes glimmering with tears. “How could you do that Julie, and not tell me? That necklace meant everything to me, it was a gift from my grandmother.” my voice cracking as if I was about to cry myself.


“I didn’t want to…I was jealous…because everyone liked you and I was the girl who stood behind the crowd, in the shadows, and watched. How would that make you feel? I was only happy when we were alone together because then there was nobody else, just us would hang out.”


“I’m really sorry, Julie. I had no idea,” I said astonished.


“I apologize too, Maria,” she said half-heartedly.


At this point I couldn’t find out if Julie was worth trusting. I decided to shake it off and not let this issue bring our friendship to an end.



Every once in awhile I looked over at Julie and she’d be minding her own business. That’s when I understood why Julie never kept a friend for more than a month. She was always worrying too much about herself. The only reason she was able to stay friends with me for so long was because I can handle these things and don’t make a big fuss over them, but I knew it was starting to cross the thin line, ready to burst.



We walked into a dark room and I found myself instantly forwarded into a painting. I noticed I was looking out of the painting at Julie. She laughed a sinister laugh and shut the door, leaving me in the black whole of which I was stuck in until someone were to find me. A door clamped over the painting, leaving me hoping I was alone.





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