'Mum, when will the electrician be in? The darkness is starting to get to me,' I complained.
'Soon, darling. Soon,' was her response as she tied her hair.
It was just mum and I sitting at the table. Dad had gone to work, mum would leave in roughly 20 minutes. I'm not sure why I knew all this.
'Alright, darling, I might be late today. But, your dad will probably be home early today. If I see him, I'll tell him to cook,' she smiled, 'how's that?'
'Perfect, but if not?' I couldn't help smiling too.
'Then, again, there's food in the fridge. At least there's some electricity and gas in the house,' she responded.
'Mum, I can't complain about the heating, it's too hot in this house anyways, but I can complain about the lighting,' I leaned over and gave her a kiss.
She picked up her bag and blew a kiss back.
As I watched her walk outside the door, I began to think about Jamie. He hadn't come downstairs for breakfast yet. However, cleaning up was the first thing on my list.
My mind reeled back to yesterday's events, as I began scrubbing the plates. The paintings, the singing, the voices, unexpected lamp, the slip. That was when I heard a crash. Shattering of a glass.
Looking down, I realised that it was I that had created it.
I looked up and saw Jamie standing, still dressed in his pyjamas.
'I, I dropped, well, it seems as if I've dropped a glass,' I replied. Always stick to reality. Losing yourself in your own thoughts can have dangerous consequences.
Jamie began laughing. 'It seems that you have,' he said, as he pointed to the mess I had made.
'Alright, don't come near here. There's glass everywhere. Go brush your teeth and then have breakfast,' I began picking up the large pieces.
'What will you do today?'
'Not entirely sure. I still want to see the paintings,' whilst brushing up the remaining glass, I said.
'I'm going to continue with the piano. It's fun,' he beamed at me.
'Actually, that reminds me, Jamie. Were you singing yesterday night? It sounded like your voice,' I questioned. I had to know.
'Singing and me? No, Kelly, I fell asleep. For some reason, I was really tired,' he gave a strange smile.
'Well, alright then,' this was not going my way. His smile was different too. Was he just denying it all or telling the truth? Again, I had to be sure.
I continued on with the washing, falling back into the "dangerous thought" zone. My dream made no sense. The little boy and the woman from the paintings seemed logical to dream of, but the butler? The man? The servants and maids, even the cook? Where did they come from? It was all so vivid that I couldn't remove it from my mind.
'Well, I am going back to the room,' I mumbled to myself. Drying up, and after tiding parts of the house, I lit a lamp and made my way up the stairs. A sense of excitement ran through me. I was going through the door!
I made sure that I had my small satchel with me. I didn't want to be bleeding again, so it was only right to bring some cotton wool and plasters with me. I also needed to clean the mess from yesterday night.
The voices were back.'It's all just in your head, Kelly,' I said to myself.
YOU ARE READING
The Boy in the PaintingMystery / Thriller
'Death is our best friend from childhood. It is just lost in this cruel world. When it finds its friend, what happens, only it decides. Has Death found its best friend? We will find out tonight,' Father Jones calmly stated. I like drawing, so yes, t...