The Portrait That Shouldn’t Exist
704 Words
I couldn’t stop staring at the portrait.
The woman in the painting looked almost exactly like me.
Same eyes.
Same shape of face.
Even the same dark hair falling over her shoulders.
The only difference was the dress she wore — a long, elegant gown that looked like it belonged to another century.
My heart started beating faster.
“This… this is strange,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Adrian stood beside me, completely calm.
Too calm.
His dark eyes moved slowly between the painting and my face, studying both carefully.
“Do you believe in coincidence, Elena?” he asked quietly.
I turned toward him.
“What do you mean?”
Instead of answering, Adrian stepped closer to the painting.
“There have been many women in this house over the years,” he said.
His fingers lightly brushed the frame.
“Blackwood Manor has a very long history.”
Lightning flashed through the tall windows at the end of the hallway.
For a brief moment, the entire corridor lit up.
That’s when I noticed something that made my blood run cold.
There wasn’t just one painting.
There were many.
Dozens of them lined the walls.
Every single portrait was a woman.
And every single woman looked almost exactly like me.
My stomach dropped.
“That’s impossible,” I whispered.
I walked down the hallway, staring at each portrait one by one.
A woman from the 1800s.
Another from the early 1900s.
Another that looked like it had been painted only a few years ago.
Different clothes.
Different time periods.
But the same face.
My face.
“Adrian…” I said slowly.
“How many women have lived here?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
The silence stretched longer than it should have.
Finally, he spoke.
“Enough to fill a lifetime.”
Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten.
I forced out a nervous laugh.
“You’re joking, right?”
Adrian looked at me.
His expression was unreadable.
Before he could reply—
A loud bang echoed from somewhere deep inside the mansion.
I jumped.
“What was that?” I asked.
Adrian’s gaze shifted toward the end of the hallway.
His face suddenly became serious.
“Probably the storm,” he said calmly.
But I noticed something strange.
For a moment… he looked almost annoyed.
Another sound followed.
This time it wasn’t a bang.
It was a scream.
A woman’s scream.
It was faint.
Distant.
But it was definitely real.
My entire body froze.
“Did you hear that?” I whispered.
Adrian didn’t move.
His jaw tightened slightly.
“Elena,” he said slowly, “there are many old pipes and vents in this house. Sometimes the wind—”
The scream came again.
Louder this time.
Desperate.
Like someone was being hurt.
“That's not the wind!” I said, panic rising in my voice.
The scream suddenly stopped.
The mansion fell silent again.
The silence felt worse than the sound.
My heart was pounding now.
“Adrian… someone is in this house.”
His eyes met mine.
For a moment, something dark passed across his face.
Then he smiled again.
That same calm, charming smile.
“You’re imagining things,” he said gently.
But before I could respond—
The lights in the hallway flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then they went completely out.
Darkness swallowed the corridor.
I gasped.
“Adrian?”
No answer.
“Adrian?”
The storm outside roared louder, and lightning flashed through the windows again.
For a brief second, the hallway lit up.
And in that moment…
I saw something that made my blood freeze.
Adrian was standing at the end of the corridor.
Much farther away than he had been just seconds ago.
Completely still.
Watching me.
But that wasn’t the terrifying part.
The terrifying part was the portrait beside him.
The newest painting on the wall.
The paint still looked fresh.
And the woman in the portrait…
was me.
Wearing a wedding dress.
With the name “Elena Blackwood” written underneath.
My heart nearly stopped.
Slowly, Adrian’s voice echoed through the dark hallway.
Soft.
Cold.
And dangerously calm.
“You look beautiful in that one.”
- Writer
