It was Happened 5 years Ago
When I inherited my Great Aunt Elara’s manor, the first thing I decided to sell was the massive, grim-faced oil painting in the parlor. It was an ancestor from the 1900s, and his eyes had a way of looking right through you no matter where you stood in the room. The local antiques dealer quoted me a decent price, so I had two movers haul it out into the garage until they could pick it up the next morning. When I went to lock up that night, I paused—the parlor door was slightly ajar. I walked in, and there it was: the painting. It was propped against the mantelpiece, perfectly centered, staring at me. I called the movers, convinced they had forgotten it and snuck back in. They swore they had loaded it into the garage and locked the door themselves. Shaking, I dragged the heavy thing back out and wedged it between two cabinets, making absolutely sure it couldn't be moved easily. The next morning, I woke to a loud THUD. I rushed downstairs, and the painting was back in the parlor, this time lying face down. As I stood there, terrified, I noticed something small and white lying on the floor. It was a centuries-old, brittle lace cufflink—the exact kind the man in the portrait was wearing.
shesh im still shaking when i remember it
stake: metalmokong
