The Cursed Portrait: The Evil that Lived

My grandfather was an artist. People couldn’t get enough of his paintings. Winter sad landscapes I have loved most of all, since childhood. However, he was remembered not for his images of nature, but for his portraits.

My grandfather created peculiar portraits. He couldn’t lie to the canvas, so he painted people as they really were. It’s amazing how he realized from the threshold whether the person in front of him was a good person or a bad one. Maybe he had such a gift? I still don’t understand how he did it.

Sometimes beautiful people came to him, with perfect figures, in beautiful shiny clothes, and some ugly creatures appeared on the canvas instead of shining beauties. Of course, after such “work” on the grandfather, many were very offended. It came down to the fights. And sometimes, vice versa: people came to him completely nondescript, inconspicuously dressed, simple, and sometimes even with disabilities. People whom he portrayed as stunningly beautiful. Well, he couldn’t lie to himself and never refused anyone. And people continued to go to him with the confidence that they would definitely turn out to be “good”.

I remember how my grandfather told me when I was little, “Never lie to yourself, if I see that a person is evil, bad, then I will never paint him beautiful. He doesn’t deserve it. He’s really ugly. The outer shell means almost nothing”

Maybe because of his inability to lie to himself and the canvas, grandfather never became famous and even made many enemies during his life, especially among the powerful. Many people thought he was crazy and even tried to impose this opinion on me. But I know for sure that my grandfather was quite an adequate person. He just had a gift, had a lot of talents, and he was at their mercy. I loved him very much and never considered him crazy.

Grandfather died in a fire in his house. So almost all of his work disappeared. There was nothing left but one small painting depicting an ugly woman with matted, dirty hair and a face covered with some sores and blisters on greenish-purple skin. This portrait was lying in a shed that the fire had not touched; so it was the only work of my grandfather that “survived”. I grieved for a long time. An investigation was conducted, but the case did not end with anything. The prosecutor’s office referred to the fact that there was bad wiring in the house, so everything “broke out”.

I took the scary picture home. You may ask: why was it necessary to take on this horror? Yes, just because it was the work of my beloved grandfather, I have nothing left of him anymore. Moreover, now that it was his last creation. Everything else burned to the ground.

Grandfather began to come to me often in my dreams. The dreams were similar to each other. Every time he tried to tell me something, but a black shadow appeared out of nowhere and stood next to him, after which he could not say anything. I didn’t understand these strange dreams. I referred to stress.

I started to get sick often. For no reason at all, the temperature jumped, chills began, literally the whole body was “pounding”. I went to the doctor, but it turned out that I wasn’t sick at all. Everything was fine. Nightmares began to torment. Now I dreamt not only of my grandfather, but also of all sorts of horrors: sometimes I drowned in a dirty black swamp, then I ran through a dark forest, and someone chased me, strangled me, beat me, and much more.

I woke up in a cold sweat and again: chills, fever. The equipment in the house regularly failed. In the local workshop, I was already held for my own, so I often went to them. Everything literally fell out of my hands. Problems rained down on my head one after another. The neighbors were flooded from above, so much so that they had to make repairs in half of the apartment.

During the repair, I fell off the stepladder. However, how did I fall? It seemed to me that someone had just knocked it out from under my feet, and I fell straight to the floor from a decent height. Fortunately, I didn’t break anything, but the bruises didn’t heal for a long time. The food was spoiling even in the refrigerator for “one-two”. Although I had almost no appetite, my interest in food almost completely disappeared. I didn’t understand what was going on, but again I justified everything with the stress I had experienced, despite the fact that a lot of time had passed.

Rashes appeared on the face, similar to small pimples. It itches constantly. I’ve tried all the creams, but it’s useless. There were only more of them. Going to the doctors didn’t help me in any way. My friends distanced themselves from me without explaining their coldness to me. My hands were sinking.

Often, waking up at night, it seemed to me that there was someone else in the room besides me. I literally felt with my skin like someone was hiding in a dark corner. He didn’t do anything to me, but he was definitely there, and I don’t think he was friendly.

After a while, I began not only to feel, but also to see something in my apartment. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some movement. It was as if someone had run past very quickly, leaving behind a slight chill. I was seized with fear and horror when I noticed something like this, but I never believed in ghosts or other evil spirits, so every time I found different explanations for what was happening. It seemed to me that I was seeing all this only because I was ill, and I was imagining everything.

At night it became very cold in the apartment, although it was spring outside, and it was already warm enough. I wrapped myself in two blankets to keep warm somehow. It didn’t help much.

One day I woke up because I wasn’t wearing a single blanket, and someone was pressing on my chest with such force that I almost couldn’t breathe. Steam was coming out of my mouth. I wanted to jump up in horror, but suddenly realized that my whole body literally had been wadded up. Neither arms nor legs moved, and there was a catastrophic lack of air. Something kept pressing on me. With difficulty, I could see through the veil in front of me something barely discernible, dark, creepy, of enormous size (perhaps the size of an adult), which sat on my chest and turned me into a motionless vegetable. Then the veil fell abruptly, as if by magic, and I saw on my chest a woman with long dark hair. She was terribly ugly. Her fingers were long, with huge black claws. She growled angrily, greenish saliva flowing from her mouth.

I gathered the strength to scream, and at that moment everything abruptly disappeared. There was no one else on me, and I could breathe again. I sat with the lights on all night. I cried for a long time. I didn’t have the strength anymore. I didn’t understand anything. Who is she and what does she want here?

No one lived in my apartment before, I bought it, right after the construction of this multi-story building. No one died during construction. No one could curse me, so what’s the problem? Now I saw this terrible woman everywhere. She followed me everywhere, in every dark corner. I almost stopped sleeping at night because I knew she would come back and want to do something to me. Being an atheist, I didn’t know any prayers; I never believed in anyone, so I didn’t know where to look for salvation from my creepy guest.

I was still not feeling well, and she was not far behind. Sometimes I’d find her by my bed in the middle of the night. She just stood or sat on the carpet and growled with her nasty rotten mouth. I think she was feeding off my life.

I was fading before my eyes, and this nasty lady, on the contrary, was becoming more and more noticeable and strong. At times I saw her figure in the moonlight, swaying on the floor of my room. She always breathed heavily, with a hoarseness. My whole body turned into a bundle of nerves, how scared I was. Only tears flowed down her cheeks. And there was nothing I could do…

One day this thing sat right at my feet and just stared at me with its yellow creepy eyes. At that moment it seemed to me that I was going crazy. Either out of fear, or because I myself can’t believe what I’m seeing…

Sometimes she would pull my arms or legs when I was just walking around the apartment. Sometimes it was a light movement, and sometimes I was literally amazed. I was afraid of myself. I wanted to hide in the farthest corner and not get out of there; I felt so bad and scared. My hair started to fall out a lot, and I was constantly thinking about suicide. I never thought about it before, but now I do it all the time. These gloomy thoughts did not leave me. I suddenly realized that no one needed me anymore, that everyone had turned away from me, and that no one would be upset if I left. But I’ll be free.

One morning I woke up and found my own hair next to me. They were just cut off. It was as if they picked it up and just “hit” it once. I got hysterical. This thing has become even stronger. She could already really hurt me, not just scare me. I looked just awful…

The solution to what is happening came by accident. I was walking down the corridor in my apartment, stumbled and accidentally touched a photo of my late grandfather. She fell to the floor in a crash. The canvas flew out of the frame. At that moment I felt a sharp push in the back and flew after the portrait. My nose was broken. Blood was flowing in a stream. It hurt like hell, but at that moment I realized that it was a portrait. I jumped up, turned around. There was nothing behind. But I guessed who pushed me.

At least now I knew what was going on. It was because of the painting. How did I not guess right away? My life turned into hell after this canvas got to my house.

I have tried many times to get rid of this “mug”. I took it to the trash several times. But every time this creature was back on my doorstep or on the wall, as if I hadn’t taken it off. I thought I was going crazy. Impotence and despair forced me to go to my old friend, who from childhood had certain abilities that I never believed in. She assured me that the truth sees more than all other people, but as I mentioned earlier, I never took such things seriously.

Fortunately, Juna welcomed me cordially. I was so afraid that she wouldn’t even want to talk to me, because we ‘ve rarely talked lately. And there have always been a lot of disagreements between us…

Juna held my hand, looked into my eyes, then performed some kind of ritual behind the screen (for some reason it was impossible for me to see it) and finally was able to make her verdict. Yes, the girl from the picture is really to blame for my problems. The fact is that during her lifetime she was a terrible person. Her father was very rich and raised her to be greedy, greedy, and instilled unhealthy selfishness. Juna clearly saw how this girl humiliates others, offends, brings to tears and even suicides. She was such a terrible person.

When her friend said all this, her own tears appeared, as if she felt the same as the people who suffered from the sharp tongue of this lady. The girl came to my grandfather not so long ago. Of course, the result of her work enraged her, after which there was a fire in his house.

Her portrait miraculously survived, although it should not have. It was all her fault. She killed my grandfather. But misfortune befell her. A few days after the fire, she was found in the woods. She was exhausted and killed (at that moment I remembered that I had heard about it in the news, just after the death of my grandfather, this girl, the daughter of some big businessman in the area, was found deep in the forest, she was tortured for a long time before being killed, presumably by someone from her guard).

After that, Juna saw the death of her father, after her daughter. He couldn’t stand what had happened and took his own life. He was dying in agony from a drug overdose. I listened to it, and the last hair stood on end. It took us almost the whole day to tell these stories. My friend was constantly pausing. She often felt bad. From the outside, it seemed like she was watching movies somewhere in her head and retelling them to me. It was very unusual, but I had already seen enough devilry lately, so there was no longer any strength to be surprised. Juna finished her story, sighed heavily, and ordered the painting to be dragged to her. We will get rid of it.

The next day, the painting was already burning in some kind of ritual fire. I do not know how Juna bred it, or what she threw there; but the flame was magnificent. The painting was burning with a whistle; there was a column of black smoke, and a disgusting putrid smell was in the air. So we stood together with her in the middle of the field, burning this disgusting face. Juna prayed constantly. Probably, it was necessary. I do not know…

After a while, everything stopped. No one else came to me at night, and the painting never came back. My hair grew back, the ulcers on my face passed, and my health was no longer so deplorable. After that incident, I began to believe in many things. And yet, I understood my grandfather’s words. He was right when he said that appearance does not play such an important role. The main thing is what kind of person is inside. He could see it and was never wrong. Now I see it too.

Maybe the consequences of the stress experienced? Or maybe it’s inherited. But now I almost immediately see what the person in front of me is like. I hope this gift will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Read also continuation of the story

--

--

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store
Julia Njord

Hello, my friend! My name is Julia Njord and I am a writer. I write real mystical stories from my life and my friends.