yutz Soma Doug showed me after I asked. The painting was, in his own words a "hell level painting" that they only found after he let Jon tear down the gaudy old corner shelving that was setup in the back of the bedroom. Tina confirmed what Doug said, one of those rare times that you'd hear her agree with her brother. She hated that bedroom, she was constantly complaining about spooky happenings in there and feeling "watched" at night. So she finally moved out and stopped sleeping there. When they pulled down that thing and flipped over the triangle shelves, there it was – two halves of a square painting that had been facing down towards the floor for years. Three trees rise straight up in dark red and black, slightly off center and to the right. They reach up up up to the top, where their thicky leafy foliage is only barely visible before reaching the edge of the painting. Below them, the forest ground is in kelly green and ochre yellow in a mess of dried, sickly grass that extends towards a scattering field of darkening trees growing into a forest. The sky is billowing, luminous clouds of orange and red that seem to scream a real fiery, consumptive thought. It's billowing over a few of the trees, their thin black branches starkly visible through the bloody haze. And there, to the left of the middle tree, stands a person with dark jeans and a teal sweater, standing as if merely observing an interesting rock – one hand on their hip, the other arm raised up, elbow leaning against the tree. They have short hair, and their head is turned to the side. Their face is nothing but a blurry mess. It looks like melting flesh. Doug said that Rita found the woman's diary when they moved in. The woman who used to live there, who used to paint. From what he knows of the guy who sold them the house, he was kind of a yutz. From her diary she was seriously unhappy. "I wouldn't be surprised if she left him and he retaliated by destroying her work. I mean, at least I hope she left him. With her diary here, I dunno." I stare at the two halves. The diagonal slice that runs between all the fire and the trees, slicing just beneath where that short-haired figure stands, eyelessly staring off into some unfathomable distance just seems to make it all that much more impactful. Sometimes you can feel someone. Someone you never knew. Someone from another time. Sometimes they linger. Definitely cursed. 240905 what's it to you? who go blather from