The mentor spoke in a heavy voice, asking them to examine the lonely painting on the wall. People said those figures were haunted, snatching people’s sanity as they peered at the audience, crying to be heard.
They would tell a story every time some living eyes inched closer. The colors they held in them depicted stories unsaid.
“The couple was engaged.” A voice spoke from behind and caught the attention of all, including the couple.
“The manuscripts of the young lady say so.” Gushes of gasps echoed across the hall. Then the mentor revealed more, those young foolish sophomores were deep into the story, as the couple’s eyes shift in the fabric of canvas, to look at each other.
“Young fellows! The diary was found near the corpse of the lass who passed away in the midst of her fiancée’s painting her.” A few tears escaped a few eyes. The lad shed one too as oils melted from the threads of canvas, stopping near the bogus wooden frame.
“The diary ended in the midst of an ‘I love you…’ and yet, he painted her till his last breath.” Everyone was confused, as they did not understand all that was said.
The worried mentor shook his head, meeting the eyes of all. With a low voice he spoke, “You see that red gown of the mistress? It was painted by his blood.”
~ Gaganpreet kaur | Edited by Afreen Zeb