The Woman In The Painting

Once upon a time, there lived a painter. This painter was beloved by all for having the most beautiful and most stunning landscape paintings. People would come from all around the world to see his magnificent art pieces. Some would even charge him money to buy his paintings, meaning he was financially stable, too.

Despite the attention and praise given to him, The Painter was never happy with any of it. He had all these amazing things, but he never had the one thing he really wanted: love. The Painter yearned for someone to spend the rest of his life with. Someone who loved him for himself. Sadly, anytime he would find someone, they would only want to be with him for his art. So, The Painter had come to the belief that he would never have someone he could love.

One day, The Painter decided that his next art piece would be a figure painting, specifically one of a woman. He was unsure why he decided this, because he had never done a painting like this before, only having painted landscapes before. But not to question his artistic mind, he decided to try it out. So, with paintbrush in hand, he got to work. It took him three days and three nights to complete this task. Countless hours used to get every detail right, not making a single mistake. He wanted this painting to be perfect. Then, on the fourth day, he was finished.

It was beautiful. His best work so far, he thought to himself. No other piece could compare to the sheer complexity and intricacy of this art piece. Everything from the freckles on the cheeks to the fabric woven into the clothes was put into detail. It was simple mesmerizing.

Suddenly, a blinding light shined onto the painting, causing The Painter to back away from it. At first, he thought it was the sun coming up from the morning, but the sun was never this bright. Something strange was going on. Eventually, the bright light dissipated. Thinking this strange event was over, The Painter walked back over to the painting to see if the light damaged it.

He then stopped when, like magic, he saw that the woman in the painting started to move. She then climbed out of the canvas, stepping on to the hard wood floor. Stunned and surprised by this, The Painter approached the woman, wondering if this was a dream. He reached out to touch her. To his shock, when he touched her, he felt it. She was real. The woman just stood there and smiled at The Painter, as she said, "I love you." It seemed that some divine being granted his wish. He finally had someone he could love.

Over the next few weeks, The Painter and the woman got along very well. She was very much like the perfect wife for the time. It turned out the woman could cook and clean for him, meaning he could spend more time painting. The woman loved The Painter unconditionally, taking care of his all wants and needs, making sure he was as happy as he could be. And indeed, The Painter was very happy.

Of course, other people found out about this, and we're confused about this. "How did a woman come out of a painting?" The people kept questioning The Painter, wanting answers for how this happened. Of course, The Painter told the truth, that he didn't know how it happened, and it was just like some kind of miracle.

However, some of the people did not like this answer, outright refusing to believe it. "A painting of a woman can't come alive. It must be witchcraft." The people kept questioning him, some even accusing him of using demonic powers to do this. Every time, The Painter would say the same thing he said before. But more and more people began to question him, getting to the point of harassment.

Eventually, The Painter got fed up with all of this, staying inside his home unless he needed to. He didn’t need those people to love him, he thought, all I need is her. She would love him for the rest of his life. They would be happy together until he passes on his death bed. He was perfectly fine shutting himself off from the world if he had her.

One day, The Painter needed to get more paint for his art. Despite his better judgement, he decided to walk to the town to get more supplies. On his way back, however, he ran into a woman he had never seen before. Evidently, she had never heard of him before either. They both introduced each other, the woman telling him that her name is Sarah. They started talking, realizing that they have a lot of common interests. They both went to get a drink from the local tavern, talking along the way.

He could tell he really liked Sarah, and she liked him back. She was a very fun person to be around. He wished he could spend time talking to her more, but it was getting late. So, he decided to cut their conversation short, asking if they could meet again soon. She happily agrees, telling The Painter they should meet again the next day. After saying their farewells, The Painter walked home, in a very happy mood.

When he got home and opened the door however, he was met with the woman from the painting, standing at the door. Turns out she had been following him, watching him as he went into town. She saw the whole thing with him and Sarah. She was jealous. “How could you? I thought I was the only one for you.”

The Painter tried to reason with the woman, claiming that him and Sarah are just friends, nothing more. The woman does not believe this, blinded by her jealousy. “After all that I did for you, you decide to rip my heart out like this.”

Suddenly, she pulls out a knife, pointing it at The Painter. “Fine. If I can’t have you, then no one will.”

She then charges at The Painter, tears in her eyes. They end up in a tussle. He tries to reason with her, wanting her to stop, but to no avail. She is being guided by rage, jealousy, and sadness. She continues to try and kill The Painter, as he narrowly dodges the blade. Eventually, she ends up on top of The Painter, knife ready to be stabbed into his heart. “This is what you get! Die!”

The Painter then notices a paintbrush on the ground next to him. As she plunges the knife, he takes the paintbrush and sticks it in her heart. She stops. The room is silent, only the sounds of crickets chirping outside can be heard. She then drops the knife and collapses to the floor. Ink pours from her open wound and from her mouth.

Realizing what he did, The Painter goes over to her, tears in his eyes. He never meant to do this. To destroy his own creation. She then utters her final words to him. “I’m sorry.”

With one final breath, the woman dies in a pool of her ink. The man cries over her lifeless corpse, still feeling as if she was still the only woman that loved him. The man didn’t sleep that night. How could he after all he’d been through? When the sun rose the next morning, he decided to take to a secluded part of the forest where no one could find her and bury her.

The Painter went to the tavern in town, not to meet Sarah, but to wallow in his own pity, trying to drink the pain away. Eventually, Sarah does come to the tavern, expecting to have another great conversation with her new friend, only to see him depressed. When she sees this, she asks The Painter what’s wrong.

With no one else to talk to, and at his lowest point, he decides to tell her everything. When he tells her this, she is somewhat confused, but overall understands the situation. Eventually, she gives her thoughts on it all. She says that the woman was a creation of the mind. A creation cannot truly love the way a person can. They can only mimic it. If the woman understood true love, then when she found out that The Painter was talking to Sarah, she would’ve heard him out first, and then come to her own conclusion, instead of resorting to violence or jealousy.

The Painter reflects on this. He thanks Sarah for this, as he really needed to hear that. She hugs him, telling him that everything will be fine, and that as a friend, she’s always there for him to talk to. He thanks her for help and walks home. Contempt with what she told him, he gets to have a good night’s sleep.

The next day, The Painter would go to the tavern again to talk to Sarah. He did this every day for the next few months. It was nice having someone to talk to personally. As the months went by, they both started having feelings for each other, and eventually married. They had many children, and lived long, happy lives together until they passed on, forgetting all about the woman in the painting. For the first time in his life, The Painter found true love.

The End