Martha

Chapter 14 A Portrait of Me

Chapter 14
A Portrait of Me

There I was, still thinking if I should go in. Taking one step forwards, two backwards and I knew it was a crazy idea but there was something in that place, something inviting me in, seductively whispering my name... Yeah, it's known as curiosity. Just a sneak peek. What could go wrong?

I scanned the street, making sure no one was saw me before I hurried in, closing the door behind me. Wow! It was a huge house inside, exquisitely furnished with lots of paintings hanging on the walls.  A grand piano was the central piece. Above it, a gilded chandelier hung from the vaulted ceilings. Two stairways flanked at each side of the salon, leading to an interior veranda on the second floor.

I was amazed. It was as if time had stopped its march inside that place, although not leaving its dingy, dusty footprint. Everything inside screamed history. I had to be honest, not the type of dark-ages history I expected. And somehow I was disappointed first. I found no steaming cauldrons, or spider webs hanging from the walls... neither upside down crucifixes or black painted walls. Instead, the architecture, the furniture, lamps, paintings, all of it was elegant and rich, almost exactly to what I found on my previous research.it didn't change that much, and that confirmed my suspicions. Martha was a relative, perhaps an only heiress to the family feud.

Recklessly,  I ventured across the hall and wandered a little. In that moment, going upstairs came appealing to me. While climbing up the stairs, I admired the quality of the paintings and portraits. I was astounded... There was an original Picasso, and next and original Van Gogh... Was that a Remington? Oh, my goodness, there was a fortune in art work in that house!

Already on second level, I gripped the oakwood carved handrails, a mixture of fear and adrenaline boiled in my veins, pushing me to keep walking... 'Today it is the day!' I realized, excited to know I was going finally to unveil the mystery inside the Grand Manor... Martha's mystery. I only hoped I wouldn't find a dead corpse resting in a bed, dressed in nuptial garments with a worn pillow with a gray hair next to it. I laughed to my own literary pun-occurrence.

Along the hallway, there were about six doors at each side, all of them closed. At first I was tempted to open them one by one, when I noticed that the last room at the end of the hall had its door open... and there I went. It was easier, and quicker, to glance inside that room to satisfy curiosity and then leave that place immediately before someone caught me there.

Speechless, I stood for a moment by the door, surprised to find out it an artist room... I no way! I was in negation. The room was an artist studio. Was Martha an artist?

There were lots of tripods with sketches and half-ended paintings. On the floor there were placed more of those wooden boxes with lots of acrylic paints and watercolor bottles, canvas rolls, charcoal pencils, paint brushes... Yes, Martha was a painter, and a talented one indeed.

I was even familiarized with the style. My hands were shaking, as I neared to take a closer look to one of the portraits. I had to hold onto one of the wooden boxes. My eyes couldn't believe what they saw... The signature at the bottom of the painting to my left read M. Higgins.

No! What! It couldn't be true! Martha Higgins was in fact M. Higgins. They were the same person. But... How? Why? What! My brain went blank, then a thousand shrews revolved, none of them coherent. None of them were right. That was the reason nobody was able to see him... I meant her... because Martha never came out of her house. She did all her artwork in that room. It soon reminded me to the famous poet Emily Dickinson and how she created wonderful poetry secluded in her bedroom for years.

But why, Martha? What a coincidence! A mystery unveiled only twisted my mind, confusing me more.

Meandering amidst the artwork, I stumbled upon something that really freaked me out... By the window there was a painting, a portrait of a young man, very young and attractive I must add. He was half dressed with only jeans and bared footed on green grass. His straight and brown hair and his big and hazel eyes surrounded with lots of eyelashes and thick eyebrows reminded me someone... no...wait! No!

I tripped back, unable to stand up straight, out my f balance for a second. Hands on my chest I leaned closer and the more I looked at the painting, it became clearer who Martha was painting. It was me! It was a painting of me!

Goosebumps rose all over my cold skin, as everything seemed to me like a scene taken out from a horror movie. Impressed, and not by the best means, I hurried out backwards, tripping with a wooden box that was placed atop of another box, making a lot of noise. Immediately I kneeled down to pick up the art supplies I knocked over,  when I heard the main down opening and then closing. 'Oh, shit! Martha's returned!'

At the end of the room, behind the painting of ME, there was a window. The same window I tossed rockets the other night, and that was my only way out. As I opened it, vertigo twitched my stomach. Not that I was afraid of heights, but never I've found myself in the situation of fleeing down a wall like Spider-Man and make it in record time.

Fortune smiled to me, well, smirked, when my feet reached a wide lattice panel on the wall. That was the way! Lot more easier to climb down. The smile that was growing on my face soon disappeared when I heard she was in the art room.

I went down the fastest I could and when I knew ai was just meter off the floor, I jumped. It was the fastest way. I could hear Martha asking herself how could she left both the door and window opened, then she closed the window through which I had just escaped a moment ago... Ufffffff... that was close!

I crawled my way across the yard, climbed up the stone hedge to fall once again on my butt in the side of my yard. My ass kissed the grass in the less glorious way but I was safe. I exhaled relieved... That was definitely close!

***Here goes Antonio again! He found that Martha was no witch, but an artist. What a coincidence she was the M. Higgins he admired so much. What do you think of this chapter? Please let me know!