Paint Studio
D L Kaiser
The work was finally completed. All the lights were installed and the paint studio was completed. There was only one final task that needed to be completed. The ghost that haunted the studio needed to leave. Belissa had enough of paint tubes and brushes moving around, and someone tugging on her hair, or feeling like someone was looking over her shoulder. So she contacted a "clearing specialist" and the team of priest and helper said that they were done. Hopefully there would be no more disturbances.
Six months later she had four commissions piled together. She painted frantically to keep up the pace but could not keep up because she came down with bronchitis. It was enough just to get out of bed and keep her strength up. She could not work, and did not make it into the studio. Her customers were surprisingly unsupportive and demanded that she finish her work on time. So she dragged herself back into the studio. She was utterly shocked at what she found.
Her tubes of paint had been arranged before each painting, along with the brushes. On some of the canvases, it looked as if they had been painted on without her! She backed away in fear, but then something took ahold of her. Anger filled her body.
"How Dare You!" She called out. One tube tipped over. It was a buff color, one that she avoided. She walked closer to the canvass. There, in the middle where she would have used yellow, was a big smear of buff. She fought down her anger and looked again at the canvass. The color actually fit there. Hmmm. She became increasingly interested in what would happen if she continued with those tones. After 2 hours, she had almost completed the painting.
"Thanks." She called out softly. "I don't know who you are, but I am grateful."
Another tube tipped over. This time it was purple. It was in front of another painting.
"I can't paint anymore today." She started coughing and could barely breath enough to close up her studio and make it back into the house without collapsing.
The next day she entered the studio and the second painting was done. It was uncanny. It was her style, only with lots of purple and green compliments. This ghost, whoever they were, knew her style by heart. She was flattered, scared, but could she get away with selling a painting that was not really painted by her own hand?
The other two paintings followed suit, each one done in her style as she slept. When the last one was completed, she called her customers. They were astounded at the finished work. She reluctantly accepted their compliments and finished the transactions.
That night as she stood in the studio, she decided to face the ghost.
"I want to thank you for what you have done."
"I didn't do it for you, I did it for me." was whispered in reply.
"Who are you?"
"You, only dead."
Belissa laughed. "Right." It was then that she felt the tightening in her chest.
"You are going to die of a heart attack, but then wish that you could have finished your canvasses. So you got your last wish then." The ghost laughed.
Then Belissa died.
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