04 - Released on Halloween - Angel
Zac sprinted up the stairs, reaching the third story of the new house. He burst open the door and landed in the room he decided to explore, the attic. Looking around, he saw chests covered in old, dirt stained rags, old and forgotten photo albums, pictures hung crookedly on the walls and covered up old paintings.
He decided it was the paintings he wanted to see first. He went over to the first one, picking it up and dragging it to an old table. He uncovered it carefully, and was instantly taken back at what he saw.
Two old fashioned lovers stood next to eachother, embracing. They looked around their late teens, early twenties. She wore a dark purple gown, which made her eyes jump out. They seemed like a cross between blue and green, too hard to decifer. Her hair was dark brown curls extending down her back. He wore a dark brown silk suit, and had blue eyes, and shortly grown out blond hair. What was so weird about the portrait was that he held a knife behind him, barely touching her back. She seemed so delighted, and totally unphased by it. Zac thought she didn't even know it. He, on the other hand, looked totally psychotic.
"Ike! Hey, Ike!" Zac cried. His brother had to see it, but this was also really freaking him out.
Isaac bounded up the stairs, frustrated. "What, Zac? I was busy, you know."
"You've got to see this freaky ass painting!" Zac said, taking the four foot painting down and holding it up to Ike.
"Wow," Ike replied flatly. "Yee ha. You called me up for this? It's bad enough that I have to share a room with you, but you don't have to friggen bug me all the time!"
"Ike, I don't care whether you like it or not; it's going up in our room," Zac replied, hugging the painting.
"What's so important about it?" Ike asked, leaning against the doorframe. "Do you really want to fall asleep looking at that?"
"As a matter of fact, yes!" Zac answered. "I'm strangely attracted to it."
Ike watched Zac walk out of the room with the painting, humming the theme to The Twilight Zone. "Whatever."
(- . . -)
"That thing's been up for a whole week," Ike whined, pointing at the portrait.
"Aren't you tired of it yet?"
"NO, and I don't plan on getting tired of it for a while, scaredy cat," Zac taunted. "Besides, it fits the Halloween mood."
"What are you gonna be tonight?" Ike asked, plopping down on his bed.
"I'm planning on being gay, Ike. Can I borrow your clothes?" Zac asked.
"If you want to be gay, borrow Taylor's," Ike grinned. "Now those are GAY! Seriously, though."
"I will be an Olsen twin. What's your genius costume?"
Ike laughed. "I'm gonna be Han Solo. I'm taking Wicket with me. He's gonna be Chewie."
"What's the point of bringing Wicket when you've got Dad?" Zac snickered.
"Sorry to disapoint you. I think he's being Madonna," Ike replied.
Zac burst into giggles. "And Mom's gonna be Michael Jackson."Ike began to laugh.
Zac rolled over, laughing so much it hurt, when all of a sudden, he froze in fear. "Ike, it moved!"
Ike sighed, looking at his brother. "What moved?"
"T-the picture! It moved!"
"So straighten it," Ike replied.
"LOOK at it, moron!" Zac screamed, jumping up. "The knife is IN her back now."
Ike turned around. Sure enough, the knife was fully into the girl's back now, and her face was turned closer to the boy, and displayed surprise and pain.
"Holy shit!"Zac jumped up for the door. "I'm gettin the fuck out of here!"
"Wait for me!" Ike called, leaning half under his bed to grab his shoes.
"Hurry," Zac shivered. He'd have to sacrifice his Docs.
"I've got it," Ike replied, pulling his shoes from under the bed.
"Okay, let's g--" Zac turned to the door, when it slammed suddenly, making him jump and yell."What the fuck. . .? Taylor?" Ike asked.
Zac tried the door. "Ike! It won't open!!!"
Ike stormed to the door, his shoes forgotten. "TAYLOR, YOU ASSHOLE, OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" He yanked on the knob. Nothing.
"Ikeeeee! Kick it! Break it! Do something!" Zac cried.
Ike sat down to pull on his steel-toed boots from the closet. "Allright, allright."
"HOLY FUCK!" Zac screamed, diving onto his bed and burrowing under a blanket.
"What?!" Ike shouted, jumping to his feet, scared shitless.
"IT MOVED AGAIN! DAMMIT, SHE'S GONE!" Zac screamed, his cries muffled by the comforter.
Ike directed his attention to the painting. The woman was gone, and the boy was fully facing the outside world now. His hands were covered in blood.
Isaac started towards the picture, determined to take it down. His hands trembled violently, and he stepped on something wet all of a sudden. He looked down. "Oh, Jesus."Zac surfaced. "What?"
"I-I stepped in blood," Ike whispered softly. "There's a knife on the floor. A bloody knife."
"The one from the picture?"
"Where the fuck else would it come from?!" Ike raved.
"Take it down, Ike!" Zac pleaded."Touch it? Are you crazy?" Ike gasped.
"Do it, please! I can't reach."
Ike sighed and went to take it down. He drew away his hand and cried out inpain.
"What?" Zac shouted.
"I GOT CUT!" Ike gasped. A small cut, but all the same, pictures didn't cut people. . .
"He's gone!" Zac gasped. "Oh my God, Ike. . . he's behind you."
Ike slowly rotated, facing the young man from the painting, who stood about his height. They looked at each other, eye to eye. "Don't kill him!" Zac begged.
As if in response, the boy roughly grabbed Ike by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall. He was strong, and probably had a damn six pack and tight body under the suit.
"NO!" Zac screamed, running over. He took the knife, grabbed it, and tossed it onto his bed. He jumped on the boy's back. "LEAVE HIM ALONE!"
The boy leaned over, flipping Zac into the wall.
"Where the fuck did he go?" Ike gasped, straightening. Then he looked at the painting. It was Zac, in a tumbled position. "Oh, God!"
The boy hoisted Ike up, slamming him into the wall. "See how you like being looked at."
"GET HIM OUT!" Isaac demanded, punching the boy.
"He can't get out! He can barely move! It took me eighty six years to pick up that knife, fifty to stab Estella, forty to drop her, and NOW I'm free! And there is NO WAY to get back in!" he shouted, grabbing Ike by the neck and choking him. "See, it feels so good to MOVE! It's Halloween, isn't it?"
Ike gasped for air, his face turning bright red. He managed to nod.
"Ah, the portal is open on Halloweens. But it takes so long to get the strength to move to it. Do you know how HORRIBLE it is to see that open and know you can't get out??? Oh, you will," he growled.
And with that, he tossed Isaac up and in.
(-. .-)
Isaac screamed as he landed on top of Zac. "ZAC! Where are you, buddy?"
Zac was down in a baseball catcher-like position. He tried to mold his face into a neutral look. He felt himself move slowly. "Ike. . .down here. Are you okay?"
Ike was in a leaning back position, standing up. It was one he had done a lot in photo shoots. "Yeah, fine. But. . . Zac, we're here forever. Or at least until we can make our way out."
"I heard. I heard everything. Look down, Ike."
"I can't."
"Estella. She's down by me. She's fading away. Ike. . . he went insane and killed her! Are we going insane? What's going to happen???"
Taylor entered the room, looking for his brothers. He was decked in a suit and trench coat. "Hey, guys? Where are you? Come on, Ike! Don't play this on me! You convinced me to be Mulder, so you better come trick or treating with me!"
Ike gasped. "TAYLOR! OVER HERE!"
"He can't hear us. You couldn't hear me."
"Aw, shit! Try to move, Zac."
"I can't. It's too hard!"
Taylor looked around the room. He opened the closet. No one. He looked under the beds. No one. He turned--and froze. The painting. They were in the painting. Or, at least, it had changed. . .
He walked over to it. "Wow. When did they get this done?" he wondered out loud offendedly. Taylor turned around and saw Zac's bed. "Oh, oh Jesus!" he looked from the picture to the bed which had a bloody knife on it. And from under the picture, across the carpet, and all over the Scooby Doo comforters, was blood. Zac and Ike's blood. "Oh, no!"
Taylor went to the knife and picked it up. "OW!" he shouted, tossing it on the floor and looking at the gash on his hand. He threw back Zac's comforters. No Zac. He groaned and wiped his hand on it, putting pressure on it to ooze out the blood in hope it would stop it."TAYLOR."
Taylor turned around, coming face to face with the young killer from the picture. "Who are you? What the hell--"
The young man had to time to waste. He grabbed Taylor in a tackling position and lifted the light boy up. He flung him into the picture, and stepped back to admire his work. The little boy was down in a catcher position, with a neutral look on his face. The oldest was leaning back, his hand up slightly in surprise, the other one behind him. He stood to the side. And the middle on
was behind the little one, his hands in the trenchcoat pockets. They looked like a psychotic family portrait. He chuckled and went out the window. He was finally free.
Thirty Seven Years Later. . .
Isis walked up the stairs, holding a candle. Oh, she loved old houses! And just when they thought there were no good ones around, her mother managed to dig up a good one.
Isis brushed away a strand of long, gold hair and pushed open the attic door.
She felt for the light switch and flipped it. The lights still worked, and illuminated the room. She looked around the room, deciding what to explore first. A stack of old paintings leaning against a wall seemed to beckon her.
She went to them, and uncovered one. It was of three boys. One looked around nineteen, another looked sixteen, and the last looked fourteen or so. Isis was a little dissapointed. Their clothing looked no more than forty years old, but the quality of the painting and the frame work looked like it was dated back to the sixteen hundreds!
Isis's younger sister, Kade, came through the door, holding some of her mom's CDs. "Isis! I need help putting away Mom's CDs in the cabinet. Come help."
"Look at this, Kade!" Isis replied, holding the portrait up to Kade.
Kade looked at it. It was three young boys, from a while ago. They looked a bit a like. It was a portrait of brothers. The small one was half crouched, as if he was frozen in the middle of getting up. Kade thought THAT would be an uncomfortable position to pose in. The middle one was close to the corner of the portrait, perhaps leaning on a wall when it was made. And the oldest was turned forward in the picture, as if he could walk out of it.
Kade was in such as daze, that the six CDs she held fell from her hands.
Isis laughed.
Kade examined the CDs for damage when she picked them up. "Oh, man, Isis! Look at this!"
"Hanson. Middle of Nowhere. So what?" Isis shrugged.
"Look at the picture!" Kade excitedly bubbled. "They're the guys in the painting! Mom told me about them! They, like, killed themselves when she was eleven."
"Whoa," Isis replied. "Wanna put it up in our room?"
Kade looked at it in question. "Well, do you really want a painting of people that killed themselves. . . in our room?"
"Yeah! They're cute," Isis grinned slyly. "Besides, it goes PERFECT with the Halloween mood."
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