Interventions

Hey everyone, sorry for not posting in six months or so, was focusing on finishing uni completely for the year and have just finished my first year in my degree a few days ago, so can focus on my writing again :) One of my classes was about creative writing and we had to write a bunch of short stories for a folio, and this is a fanfiction of sorts I guess that I wrote as an intervention to "My Last Duchess". Hope you enjoy!

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I swallow tightly, resisting the urge to fiddle with my collar. There was something wrong here and…well, the conversation was just rather odd, really. Which was an understandable reaction considering the man was revealing that he was an insecure and delusional douchebag that was possessive and objectifying of his wife.

Gods, how on earth does a person get away with this?...oh that’s right, he’s a Duke, he has lots of money. He’s popular in this town, everyone overlooks problematic people as long as they’re popular and rich.

Honestly, it was surprising anyone had married him and stuck with him, let alone that someone else was going to get married to him. Maybe it was for the best that his last duchess had died, though her spirit seemed to be still hanging around. That might be a stupid, overused sentiment after someone’s death that people express to the deceased’s loved ones to bring delusions of comfort, and I wasn’t one to give nor accept such tomfoolery, however, I can’t help express such a sentiment myself being in this building.

From the moment I walked in, there was something off. Almost ghost like figures appearing at the end of hallways as I passed them while being led to the Duke’s office by the Duke himself. Eyes with no body, as if they were disconnected, glaring at me from the shadows from the corner of my eyes, yet disappear as soon as I tried to look directly at it.

Whispers in my ear. Feeling a hand on my shoulder yet when I turn around to see who’s touching me, there’s no-one there…except a face slowly dissolving into thin air.

And the paintings.

Specifically her paintings.

They seemed to be moving.

When the Duke had showed him that one special portrait of his wife, it seemed to be staring at me. Like as I was staring at it, it seemed to start moving, as if it was becoming a life before my eyes. I could’ve sworn the eyes started blinking and the lips started to move.

Mouthing help me.

And then there was –

I suddenly became aware of a sudden pause in the Duke’s ramblings about his deceased wife and that he was calling my name.

Oh shit.

“Hmmm? I apologize, sir, it was a long ride over here, and I…I’m really exhausted,” I manage to stammer out, burning in embarrassment. You don’t do that in front of the rich and titled!

“Ah, that’s alright then!” The duke honestly sounded waaaayyy too happy and forgiving right now…or maybe I’m just paranoid?

“So,” the duke continued, “tell me, when is the consort meant to arrive with my new Duchess?”

“In ten minutes, actually,” I respond, after checking my watch.

The duke nods and looks towards a painting, another one of his previous wife, the only Duchess that he considered to be his last ‘true Duchess’. Which was funny considering how he thought anything about her was…sexual and that any other man who talked to had to be trying to get in her pants.

I go to take a look as I hadn’t noticed this one before. And there was something wrong with it…her eyes…they were wide and…terrified. Her face was grey and looked wrinkled. It was like looking at death…but there was still a bit of life to her like she wasn’t quite dead yet.

Why…why would someone get a painting of their loved one as they were passing away? That-

“HELP ME!!!”

I stumble backwards as the Duchess’ face that was on the painting tried to move forward. It was like a face was filling the paper and trying to break out.

The mouth opened and jagged teeth and blood…so much blood leaking out was all I could see. There was a putrid smell that filled the room as screaming, blood curling screaming came from the painting.

“LET ME OUT!!! HE’S KEEPING ME TRAPPED IN HERE!!!”

Suddenly there was silence.

The painting was just that – a painting.

My body was shaking, I couldn’t move. I tried to open my mouth, but I couldn’t speak.

“Ah, don’t worry about her,” the duke chuckled coming over at placing his hand on my shoulder. “I just keep her trapped in the painting so only I can keep her forever, you know? And best part is – I can do it to anyone. Anyone. Now, let’s go downstairs and greet my new Duchess, shall we?”