The Glimpsing (40 page)

Peering through the gap in the closet door, Rose watched bitterly as one by one they exited the bedroom.
 
Earlier, as she listened to Portia’s murder, she’d felt held by some alien force, unable to move, unable to act, unable to depart the painting and come to Portia’s aid.
 
Now that they were leaving, however, now that she was leaving, the one called
Gabrielle,
the power that had kept her bound seemed to be dissipating.

Turning her gaze away from the opening, Rose slowly stood to her feet and peered at the white mass of the closet door before her.
 
She stared at it for a moment, then, raising her hand, delicately laid it to its surface.
 
She held it there, not pushing the door open, apprehensive of what it might reveal.
 
But after another moment’s hesitation, she finally did.

It swung open with a phantom’s silence, gradually bringing the entirety of the bedroom into view.
 
And what Rose saw, what filled every inch of her pernicious eyes, made her marvel in complete and utter surprise.

The walls were candy apple red, still wet and glistening; the ceiling was a great constellation of blood splatters.
 
The bed’s numerous pillows had been scattered, and its sheets and blankets were disheveled and bloody.
 
The vanity’s mirror had been shattered, with large jutting sharps pointing out from it threateningly.
 
The once gleaming hardwood floor had now become a crimson carpet.

And then she saw it, a form barely visible amongst the carnage, Portia’s body sprawled partly beneath the vanity and the bed.

She was lying on her back, her arms outstretched, the lower half of her body turned awkwardly.
 
Her once elegant black dress was now darkly discolored, ruined by an innumerable number of puncture wounds.
 
All of the exposed flesh, including her head, looked as if it had been dipped in blood.

Rose began forward, passing into the closet door’s frame, stepping into the reddened bedroom beyond her.
 
She moved to Portia’s body and knelt.
 
She stared at it blankly, emotionlessly.
 
She then reached forward and pulled Portia into her arms.

Portia’s head sagged miserably and her mouth
yawed
open.
 
Her arms
hung
limply to the sides.
 
Rose brushed away the stringy, blood-saturated hairs from Portia’s face.
 
She then used the hem of her dress to wipe away the bloody mask, allowing some semblance of Portia’s true countenance to come through.
 
Pressing her hand to Portia’s cheek, she found that the woman was not yet cold.

At that, Rose grinned.

She continued grinning, her gaze now drifting away from Portia and toward the closet
door.  It swung toward closing ever so gently,
pushed along by
some
unseen force.
 
It stopped when almost halfway closed.

Rose
continued
cradling Portia, still staring
at the
closet
door
,
still
grinning.
 
She watched excitedly as the door inched toward closing once more
. 
And just as
Rose’s
grin became a
dark, disturbing smile,
of its own accord
the door violently slammed shut.

Thank you
so very much
for
taking the time to
read
The Glimpsing.
 
If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to recommend it to family
,
friends
,
a blog you belong to, or your
book club. 
Again,
I truly appreciate your time.
 

James L. Black

[email protected]

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