Speaker 1: Calarogu Shark Media, Hello and welcome to Ghost Scary Stories.
This episode is titled eight Nights of Terror, Episode three.
The Haunted Canvas.
Speaker 2: The Crescent Moon Gallery was quiet as Lily Chen worked
late into the night, her brush moving in swift, sure
strokes across the canvas. The upcoming Halloween exhibition was her
big chance, an opportunity to finally break into the art
world after years of struggle, but lately her paintings had
taken a disturbing turn. Lily stepped back, frowning at her
latest peace. What had started as a serene landscape had
transformed into a nightmarish sea, gnarled trees with faces twisted
in agony, a blood red moon hanging low in a
sickly green sky. She didn't remember painting any of that.
It's happening again, she murmured, running a hand through her
paint splattered hair. For weeks now, Lily's artwork had been changing. Overnight.
She'd arrived at the gallery to find her paintings altered,
dark elements creeping in at the edges, transforming her work
into something macarb and unsettling. At first, she'd blamed it
on stress and lack of sleep. But now, as she
stared at the twisted landscape before her, a chill ran
down her spine. A soft scraping sound made her whirl around.
In the dim light of her studio, space, shadows seemed
to writhe and dance. Hello, Lily called out, her voice
echoing in the empty gallery. Is someone there? Silence answered her,
But as she turned back to her painting, she caught
a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision, a dark
figure there and gone in an instant, Lily's heart raced.
She was alone in the gallery she'd locked up herself
hours ago. Get it together, she muttered, shaking her head.
You're imagining things. As if in response to her words,
a cold breeze whispered through the room, carrying with it
the faint scent of oil paints and turpentine. Lily shivered,
wrapping her arms around herself. Her gaze was drawn to
a covered canvas in the corner, a piece she'd been
working on for days but couldn't seem to finish. Almost
against her will, Lily found herself moving towards the canvas.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the cloth covering
it with a deep breath, She yanked the covering away.
A gasp escaped her lips. The unfinished painting had been completed,
but not by her hand. Dark, angry brushstrokes formed a
portrait of a man in nineteenth century clothing, his eyes
burning with an intensity that se seemed to pierce right
through her. At the bottom of the canvas, written in
what looked disturbingly like blood, was a name, Sebastian Blackwood.
What the hell, Lily whispered, stumbling back. The temperature in
the room plummeted, her breath coming out in visible puffs.
The portraits seemed to ripple the painted figure's eyes, moving
to follow her, Lily watched in horror as a hand
began to emerge from the canvas, reaching out towards her.
With a scream. Lily turned and ran, bursting out of
her studio space into the main gallery. But the nightmare followed.
Every painting she passed came to life, figures writhing within
their frames, reaching out with grasping hands and pleading eyes.
Lily made it to the gallery's front door, yanking frantically
at the handle. It was locked. No, no, no, she moaned.
Fumbling for her keys, Lily A voice rasped behind her,
sending icy tendrils of fear down her spine. She turned slowly,
keys clutched in her shaking hand. Sebastian Blackwood stood before her,
as solid and real as any living person, but there
was a translucence to him, a shimmer at the edges
that betrayed his ghostly nature. His eyes burned with the
same intensity as in the portrait. You have a gift, Lily,
Sebastian said, his voice echoing strangely in the gallery, A
talent that comes along once in a century. I've been
waiting for someone like you. Lily pressed herself against the door,
heart pounding. What do you want from me? A slow,
cruel smile spread across Sebastian's face. To create my masterpiece,
of course, the work I was never able to complete
in life. Before Lily could react, Sebastian's form dissolved into
a swirling mist that rushed towards her. She felt a terrible,
cold envelopeer seeping into her very bones. Her vision blurred,
the world spinning around her. When Lily opened her eyes again,
she was back in her studio, brush in hand, but
she wasn't in control of her own body. Her hand
moved of its own accord, dipping the brush in paint
and bringing it to a fresh canvas. No Lily tried
to say, but no sound came out. She was a
prisoner in her own body, forced to watch as Sebastian,
using her hand, began to paint. Hours passed in a
blur of color and shadow. Lily caught glimpses of the
painting taking shape, a swirling vortex of tortured souls, a
gateway between worlds. With growing horror, she realized that this
was no ordinary painting. It was a portal, a doorway
that would allow Sebastian to bring more spirits into the
world of the living. As Halloween approached, Lily struggled against
Sebastian's control. By day, she appeared normal to the outside world,
preparing for the gallery's exhibition, but each night she was
forced to work on the demonic portal, the painting nearing
completion with each passing hour. In moments of lucidity, Lily
tried to warn others. She left frantic notes, made cryptic
comments to her fellow artists, but Sebastian's influence was strong,
and no one seemed to notice anything amiss the night
before Halloween. As the final brushstroke was applied to the canvas,
Lily made one last desperate attempt to break free. With
every ounce of will power she possessed, she fought against
Sebastian's control for a moment, just a moment, she felt
his grip weaken. In that instant, Lily managed to pick
up a nearby palette knife. Before Sebastian could reassert control,
she slashed at the painting, tearing through the canvas. Sebastian's
scream of rage echoed through the gallery as his form
was violently ripped from Line's body. She collapsed to the ground,
gasping for air as the ghost of the painter writhed
in agony before her, You fool, Sebastian, howled? Do you
realize what you've done? As Lily watched in horror, the
tear in the canvas began to widen, a swirling vortex
of color and shadow emerging from within. The portal may
have been damaged, but it was open and something was
coming through. Lily scrambled to her feet, backing away from
the growing portal. Shapes moved in the swirling chaos, Dark
twisted forms that defied description. She had prevented Sebastian's plan,
but at what cost. As the first monstrous figure began
to emerge from the portal, Lily turned and ran. She
had to find help, had to find a way to
close the gateway before it was too late. The Crescent
Moon Gallery, once a place of creativity and beauty, had
become ground zero for a supernatural invasion, and as how
Halloween dawned, the fate of not just the gallery, but
perhaps the entire world, hung in the balance. Lily Chen
raced through the pre dawn streets, desperate to find someone
who would believe her impossible story. Behind her, the tortured
screams of damned souls and the laughter of malevolent spirits
echoed from the gallery, heralding the beginning of a Halloween
unlike any the world had ever seen.
Speaker 1: Ghost is a Calaroga Shark Media production, written and hosted
by Alexander Ian McIntyre, produced by Mark Francis. Executive producers
Mark Francis and John McDermott. Portions of this podcast may
have been created with the assistance of AI.
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