The Painting

Hey readers I am back with an awesome horror story for you. enjoy the story and make sure that you comment below weather you like it or not. here you go.



                                                                                The Painting

My ever compassionate love for paintings led me to the village of horrors, which was not known to contain the most ancient, artistic and legendary painting ever made by man. But it was famous for once being home to the most cruel leader in the history of mankind.

I went to the village of Tombli with my loyal and beloved dog Briley. The scared people who dwelt in the lonely village rarely came out of their decapitated huts. So I had a hard time finding the way to the least depressed person that must have ever lived in the village. The leaders house was a big, white mansion that stood out amongst the dull grey houses in the richer part of the village.

As I entered the extravagant mansion I was offered pineapple juice- their traditional drink. While I was drinking my juice the leader told me about his predecessor ‘Vorselon’

Vorselon was a tyrant who used to have fun whipping the blood covered villagers. He whipped and whipped until people stopped coming out of their houses. When he had no one to whip from the villagers he whipped his wife to death. Then one day death struck him. But before dying in his weak and shaky state, he chopped his hand off for reasons yet unknown.

Without wasting much time I asked the leader if I could take the historic painting of Tombli to the outside world. He refused point blank, but he did allow me to copy it so that I could expose it to the outside world.

The leader gave me two keys both weird in opposite ways. He told me that I must go to Vorselon’s decapitated house to make the replica of the painting and advised me to come back before night fell.

I did as the leader had instructed me. I went to Vorselon’s house and walked down to the basement. I opened the first door in sight and entered the small room. Briley hesitantly followed me to the second door but when I opened it he refused to come in. after a lot of struggle I managed to drag him in.

Once inside I could see the most artistic and beautiful painting on the easel which was standing on the floor littered with bones and skulls. The sight was horrifying but not horrifying enough to scare me.

I started to work but it was hard with those eerie sounds coming from the patch of soil in the corner of the room.

Hours past and night fell but I did not notice and part of me didn’t even care. But then suddenly I felt a curious presence and from the corner of my eye I saw that there were movements in the patch of soil as if something was emerging from it.

A feeling of absolute and pure fear struck me. I reached for the door but before I could open it someone, or should I say something got hold of my neck. It dug its fingers through my flesh. My dog pounced on my face and caught something invisible in his mouth. He wrestled with it for minutes that seemed to last for eternity; until my lovely dog went limp. He was stone dead.

I could now see a half decomposed hand crawling towards me, its invisibility lost. Soil was stuck in its overgrown fingernails and the fingers were cut and bruised; the sinews were trailing behind it like phantom tails.

I fainted, I still don’t know whether it was from blood loss or fear but my last thought before fainting was that the hand itself was the embodiment of fear, I did not want to see the whole body.