The evil spirit from the painting

It was in the fall of 2007; I had just moved from the village to the city; I inherited a very nice 3-room apartment. I really liked everything about it, except for one place, in my bedroom opposite the bed, the wall was completely bare. This annoyed me terribly. I decided to drop by the nearest furniture store after work and buy a mirror.

The next day I went to choose a mirror and accidentally noticed something like a private market on the side of the store, where people were selling various things, some books, some details, and so I noticed a guy who was standing next to the painting. I really liked this picture; it depicted a full-length girl; she was just beautiful. The frame of the painting was very similar to the one I once saw in a museum, and as far as I remember, this painting was at least 100 years old, which means that this one is about the same, I thought. Of course, I immediately decided that I didn't have enough money for this painting. Antiques, a huge canvas, a handmade frame, but this picture literally fascinated me, and I still asked the man how much it cost. I was pleasantly surprised that he demanded only 100 pounds, at first. I thought that he simply did not understand art. Later, of course, I realized the reason for such a low price...

I came home, hung a picture in front of my bed, sat in front of the TV all evening, and went to bed. But in the middle of the night I woke up because of a strange whisper. It seemed to me that someone was talking in my room. When I opened my eyes, I didn't see anything, but after I lay in the dark for a couple of minutes, it seemed to me that I saw some movement in the picture. Going to the window, I pulled back the curtains, and the moonlight lit up the room. Turning around; I saw something terrible, hands and head sticking out of the picture. What was in the picture was tearing out. But along with a beautiful girl, something terrible came out of the picture, half-rotted flesh instead of snow-white skin. I have never seen such a terrible face in any horror movie, nails were broken and torn off on some fingers, as if she was scratching the picture. I stood in a daze for about thirty seconds, but then I finally came to my senses, quickly pulled on my jeans, ran out into the corridor, and, putting on a jacket, and shoes, ran outside.

Sitting on the bench, I could not take my eyes off my window and could swear that I saw a dark silhouette in the window. I could calm down only at dawn, waiting for the sun to light up my room; I still decided to return to the apartment. When I entered my room, I saw that the image in the picture had turned into a blonde girl again. After assessing the situation, I thought that if I threw the painting away, someone might pick it up and take it for themselves, and so I decided to burn it. I took the painting out to the backyard, doused it with gasoline, and set it on fire. I stood and watched it burn and didn't leave until I was sure it was destroyed.

A few weeks have passed, and everything has returned to normal. I had to go to a psychologist a couple of times. But my nerves were strong; the only thing that reminded me of a terrible night was a bunch of gray hair at my temple. And then one evening, after work, I, as usual, sat down to watch TV, and in some criminal news I heard that a man's corpse had been found; he had been strangled in his apartment. Windows and locks were closed from the inside; the police could not explain what happened there. When the plot from the apartment was shown, I was speechless; again, the picture I burned was hanging on the wall. The only difference was in the creepy grin of the blonde beauty…

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