Life in Paintings

Chapter 15 - The Story of Nastagio Degli Onesti, Part One

Chapter 15 – The Story of Nastagio Degli Onesti, Part One

I'm lying on grass in the middle of the forest when I wake up. I honestly thought that when I left the painting before, I wouldn't wake up again. That last painting was too eerie, too creepy, too... insightful to not feel like a turning point. And I can't help thinking back to what that monster said, that nobody needs me.

Because it's the truth.

So now, not only am I stuck in this curse to feel bad about setting fire to paintings, I also have to feel awful because of my shitty life, where I am expendable and useless.

How wonderful!

I sit up and brush the grass and leaves off of myself but it's really useless. Even if I get all of that stuff off of me, I'm still dirty. I need a bath and a new set of clothes. I need to rest for about a century. But I mostly need to get out of here.

There's not point in wallowing in self pity. Nobody needs me? Big deal. I don't need anybody either so that's good. For now I just need to figure out what this painting is, and maybe piss off the people in it enough so that they can end my misery once again.

I laugh at the realization. I don't want to escape the death anymore. I'm kind of looking for it now.

I get up on my feet and look around me. I have no idea where I'm supposed to go for now. Nevertheless, I start walking. Soon, I hear dogs barking and I hear the sound of a horse galloping. And for some reason I just know that this isn't some kind of search and rescue party, that I shouldn't be running towards the noise but I should be running away.

I don't even think about it, my legs just take me away and I'm running, branches snapping in my face and bare arms, roots on the ground tripping me, but I don't care I just run, because some deep down instinct tells me that if I don't run, I won't like the outcome.

But it's a little useless, because the dogs are fast and the horse too. And I'm exhausted, so so very exhausted.

They're getting closer, way too close. I can't help looking back and what I see sort of stuns me.

There is two white dogs, hunting dogs obviously, running straight for me and there's a man mounted on a white horse, with a golden armour and a red cape and a sword following them who shouts at me, when he sees me looking at him, "Stop running you wench, there is nowhere to hide!"

I actually stop running. Not because he asked me, but because I can't believe that asshole just called me a wench. A freaking dude that looks like he comes right out of a knight book just called me a wench and he's chasing me with a pack of dogs.

What the hell kind of painting have I landed in?

"You know this, it's the same every Friday, there's not point in running, I catch and kill you every time. Stop fighting it," he calls after me and that snaps me out of it.

I start running again with more force. I can't help but wonder what kind of ridiculous painting this is, where a poor girl is being chased till she's killed every Friday. I just don't understand.

As I run, my clothes keep getting stuck to branches and ripping to shreds. Fan-fucking-tastic. If I keep this up I'll be naked in no time. I'm definitely in a painting, only lunatic painters would set up something with such bad taste.

I slow down. What's the point? There's nothing even slightly interesting in this painting and the outcome is obvious. Why fight?

As one of the dogs catch up to me and bites my hip, two men suddenly appear in front of me. One has a branch in his hands and tries to shoo the dog away, even though I'm already bleeding profusely from the wound. It hurts like hell, but I've had worst.

The knight appears behind me on his horse and under the sight of the two men calls his dog back. "Please do not interfere," he tells them, while I just lay on the ground, my hand on my hip, trying to put pressure on the wound to slow the bleeding.

I think about the girls that say they want a knight in shining armour and I actually laugh bitterly. What a fucking joke. If they want a knight in shining armour they can have that lunatic one, I'll be happy to give him away.

"Why?" the man with the branch asks.

"We were lovers, she and I. I loved this lady to the point of madness, but she did not share my feelings. It was torture. After we both killed ourselves, because she did not regret inflicting me pain with her cold heart, she was cursed to be hunted be me every Fridays for as many years as the months we had spent together. Every Friday I hunt her and I kill her."

I laugh again. I can't believe this. I can't believe the poor girl from this painting who had to actually suffer through this nonsense. She and I have a lot in common.

"So because you were a dick and I didn't want to love you, just fuck you, then it means I have to be chased and killed once a week for a few decades? How does that make sense you prick? Why do I have to pay for the fact that you couldn't keep your own feelings in check?" I spit at him.

I see fire in his eyes when I say that. Serves the bastard right.

"Milady, let us help you. We shall save you," the man with the branch tells me, but what's the point really? There's no reason for me to stay in this painting. And I don't want to keep playing by the rules.

"I don't need help. And I don't want to be saved." And after I say those works I run to the knight, straight to his sword and let him drive it through my heart.