Chereads / Silent whispers of the night / Chapter 8 - Section 8: The Decision

Chapter 8 - Section 8: The Decision

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Chen Li couldn't stop thinking about the old man's warning. Every time he glanced at the painting, the figure seemed to shift ever so slightly, as though it was inching closer, waiting for the perfect moment to break free.

By nightfall, Chen Li had made up his mind. He couldn't keep the painting any longer. Even if the old man's story sounded unbelievable, Chen Li couldn't shake the feeling that there was some truth to it. The painting had to go.

He grabbed the canvas from the easel and carried it to the living room. His hands shook as he placed it on the floor, staring down at the twisted trees and the figure hidden in the mist. The once calming act of painting now felt like a dark curse hanging over him.

Chen Li looked around for something to burn it with, but all he had were matches. He gathered some old newspapers, placed them around the edges of the painting, and struck a match. As the flame flickered to life, his heart raced, and doubt crept into his mind. Could this really stop the nightmares? Or was it all just the product of an overactive imagination?

The match hovered above the newspaper for a moment before Chen Li made his decision. He dropped the match onto the paper.

The flame caught quickly, spreading across the newspaper and licking at the edges of the canvas. Chen Li watched as the fire grew, the heat making him step back. For a moment, it seemed like everything would be fine. The painting would burn, and the nightmare would end.

But then, something happened that made Chen Li's blood run cold.

Just as the fire began to consume the figure in the mist, a dark shape shifted within the flames. It was subtle at first, like a trick of the light, but soon the figure became clearer—moving, writhing, as though trying to escape the fire's grasp.

Chen Li's eyes widened in horror as the figure seemed to reach out from the painting, its shadowy arm extending through the flames.

He stumbled backward, his heart pounding in his chest. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't real.

But the figure was no longer just in the painting. It was breaking free.