Artistic Curiosity

A dilapidated, abandoned old house, far away from anything, in the woods near Wichhane. Though small, it was once a higher-class dwelling, built with good materials. It was originally built as a holiday home for a moderately rich person who liked to "get away" on occasion and enjoy some peace away from city life. The interior is mostly an open area with no separate rooms, with the few dividers between spaces being merely curtains.

This is where one could find a man who is a master of paintings. His magic is formed by using paints, using colours and shapes to craft spells. By using them himself, he can essentially become one with his art, entering and manipulating his own paintings freely, which among other things allows him to become almost immortal. At some point, towards this end, he placed his soul in a particular painting. His power is even greater in that state, though his physical form strangely became ethereal and unable to interact with the world normally. However, due to his soul being always in the source of his power, he could use his magic at any time and channel these various powers through his 'ghost' self no matter where it was, thus never needing to expose himself to harm. Somewhere along the line, possibly due to his mostly secluded existence in a world of his own creation, and then his later loss of a physical connection to the outside world, including his own mortality, he had lost his sense of morality and become basically evil. He only cared about his own power and control, seeing other people as insignificant and meaningless existences of no greater value than a common pebble.

As it happened, I came to this building in search of a particular magical amulet. Once belonging to a princess many ages ago, it was one of several essential items needed in my own quest. At this time, I knew nothing of the being that lived within.

Inside, I looked around in the near darkness, the whole structure looking as if it had lain abandoned for decades. All the furniture was ruined and crumbling. Though seemingly empty, there was a sinister feeling about it, as though something was alive here. I thought there was a flicker at the corner of my vision, but saw nothing there.
At one end of the interior was the old fireplace. The hearth stuck out somewhat, creating alcoves on either side. Both of these had ragged old curtains hanging down that would once have closed off the small spaces, but in their present state that wasn't going to happen. In each alcove there was a large painting; on the left, a portrait almost large enough for a life-sized adult; and on the right, a landscape of equally impressive scale. Both of these, while dusty and dirty, did not seem to have the same level of decay as their surroundings, though in the dark it was impossible to tell what was shown upon them.

As I thought to idly look more closely at the paintings, without warning something large and black burst from the landscape painting with a loud whoosh. Dust swirled and the bits of rotten wood and flaked stone on the floor rattled as they were swept up by the unearthly wind. I spun around, badly startled, and tried to keep my eyes on the apparition as it shot around the building at incredible speed. It was moving to fast to see, especially in the very poor light, but it seemed as if it was a bundle of streaming black cloth. The thing zoomed past me faster than I could follow, and I turned to find that it had apparently vanished the moment it had left my sight. My heart pounding, I looked around tensely, waiting for it to reappear. The dust it had stirred up was still thick in the air, proving it had been no illusion. Had I disturbed some strange beast that had taken up residence in this lost abode?

Although I waited, backing away from the painting from which the creature had appeared, nothing further manifested. Just as I began to lower my guard again, I became aware of a ghostly presence. I looked around again, but still saw nothing else inside the house. Yet, unbelievably, it was the house itself that was changing, the neglect and decay fading away, walls and floor mending themselves and rotted furniture becoming clean and whole. The curtains surrounding the two paintings repaired themselves and the paintings themselves became bright and clean, allowing me to see them properly. Neither showed any human figures, the landscape being a view of rolling green hills on a clear day, and the portrait a pleasant park with a lake and lush trees in the background. There were now also several other paintings around the place where there had been none before. Even the light here had changed, as lamps had appeared to spread a warm glow around the interior. The place now had an antique but well-kept appearance.

Meanwhile, a dark figure faded in at the same time as the intact building. Rather than the house changing and the figure appearing, it was more as if they were occupying a different plane which I had just shifted between. The figure was hardly as comforting as its surroundings, however, being a tall, sinister man garbed entirely in black. He wore a tall top-hat with a wide brim low on his head, and a long dress jacket with tails. It also had an extremely tall collar, which combined with the hat brim served to shadow his face almost completely. In fact, the shadow was rather too strong to be caused by the clothing alone, suggesting his face was hidden by more sinister means. It gave the figure the particularly unsettling impression of being faceless. While his formal, sharply creased trousers and smart black shoes were more ordinary, all of his clothing seemed somehow too long, and seemed to flutter ominously in spite of the complete absence of wind indoors. His hands were hidden in his pockets, but there was no slouching or careless manner to this man. It was rather a stiff, stern position of disdain and severity. Despite appearing along with the intact interior of the building, he unexplainably didn't quite seem to exist in the same place as it did; an impression not helped by the fact that despite apparently standing normally, he was actually several feet in the air in the centre of the room.

The figure turned almost imperceptibly towards me, and a deep, unfriendly and oddly hollow voice rolled out of the shadows where his face should be. "Why are you here?"
While his presence was imposing, I was actually more at ease now that there was a face to the being that resided here, however poor a choice of words that might be. Although he was clearly possessed of great power, I pushed down my fear and told him of my search for the amulet. He showed no visible reaction, but the air about him seemed to change somewhat upon hearing my words.
"The amulet you seek is in my possession," he spoke, his tone less unfriendly now, but instead holding a distinctly mocking edge.
I would normally be excited to discover the object of my search was close at hand, but I only felt troubled by it. Surely this character wouldn't be the type to let something like that go easily. Not expecting much, I nevertheless explained the urgency of my mission and what was at stake.
"Why you want it is of no importance," he said coldly. "Your people and their pathetic world are meaningless to me."
"If that's the case, then surely an artifact of such people would be just as meaningless to you," I challenged.
The figure gave a humourless laugh. "Perhaps so. But the fact remains, the amulet is mine. Thus, I alone determine on what terms I part with it."
"Then name your terms," I stated flatly.
"They are nothing especially problematic." The man was clearly enjoying toying with me when he knew I couldn't afford to refuse. "I will pose to you a quiz. Simply answer all of my questions correctly, and I will give you my amulet.
"Of course, I can't just give you something for nothing. So, should you answer any question incorrectly, ah...!" I could hear the cruel amusement in his voice as he trailed off deliberately. "As a Painting Master, I believe something quite appropriate. If you fail my little test... you shall join me. In this." He indicated the large portrait in the alcove.
My blood ran cold. I had heard of Painting Masters, and their ability to trap a person in any painting they chose. They would appear within the picture as if they had always been part of it, indistinguishable from a normal painting, and would remain there forever, completely at the mercy of the Painting Master, aware yet inanimate, until such time as he chose to release them. In this particular case, I was not hopeful that I would be let off lightly in such an event.
Of course, I had no choice. "Fine," I agreed tersely.
"Wonderful." The figure floated eerily over to the portrait. "Then, let us begin promptly. In the third decade of Emperor Ramdius' rule, who was..."

The questions came one after another, though none were especially difficult. That was, until the final question, which of course was something nobody outside of a very small and specific few would even be capable of knowing. I cursed myself internally for falling for such an obvious trap. Having no answer to give, the dark man smugly declared that I had failed the test. His face lifted slightly, just enough for me to see the evil grin behind the shadows, then he faded from sight, leaving only a sinister chuckle behind.

As the black figure vanished, I started to feel a pull towards the direction of the portrait showing the park. It was slow but unstoppable; though I tried to move away, and hold onto nearby objects, its pressure did not give even the slightest. All my best efforts could do was to slow its progress, but not stop it. The Painting Master, wherever he was, made no attempts to stop my resistance, perhaps enjoying watching my futile struggles.

The pull tore me loose of the edge of the hearth which I had been grasping, leaving me with nothing but to try to walk away with all my might. It was like trying to walk into a gale wind; even as my legs moved in a forward motion, I was being forced back anyway. I teetered, off-balance, mere inches from the canvas. Is this the end? I wondered in despair. In another instant I would lose my balance and fall backwards into the painting that awaited me. A mere instant - yet that instant never came.
At the last possible moment, the pull on me abruptly ceased, and a voice cut through the air, far more powerful than that of the dark Painting Master. "Enough!"
I barely regained my balance, staggering forward several steps through overcompensation. I felt faint and breathless at my near escape, but now I was worried about what would happen next. The Painting Master faded back into view, suddenly seeming quite disconcerted. "What!?" he growled, all the confidence gone from his voice. It sounded a lot less intimidating now.

"I think you've done quite enough." The unseen voice rang out again. I could clearly tell that this voice was female, and very stern-sounding. The black figure was becoming quite agitated at its sound.
"It can't be..." he muttered, the shadows about his face slipping somewhat. Apparently that was a conscious effect of his.
"Oh, it can." The speaker faded into the room. It was a tall, very refined-looking matronly woman, perhaps in the beginnings of middle age. She did not appear at all imposing, yet the Painting Master was evidently deeply troubled by her appearance.
"You!" he cried, in what seemed to be disbelief. "But how could...!?"
The woman held up her hand sharply, cutting off his stumbled words. "No more," she said sternly. "I've been watching you, and I won't tolerate your behaviour any longer. I warned you about this."
"You won't tolerate it?" the man yelled in sudden rage. "What I do is none of your concern! My life is my own!" He thrust his hands out towards the woman, and black, ink-like shadows burst from them in a powerful stream towards her, whirling and hissing like a swarm of wild birds attacking. However, she merely held up a hand, and the dark things deflected away as they reached her, dissipating back to nothing. Now she pointed her hands back at him, her face dark with anger.
"I did not raise you to be this way. I will not allow you to continue harming all around you in your selfish lust for power. You will learn this - one way or another!" A ripple of force came from her extended hands, and the man suddenly began to move - being drawn towards the painting I had nearly been pulled into, far faster than I had.
"No... No!" he screamed, flailing and writhing ineffectually in the air, unable to halt his motion. His shadows had been lost entirely, revealing the face of a cruel-looking but otherwise normal man. As he touched the painting, he passed right into it without dropping speed as if the surface was mere air, providing a strange effect as his three-dimensional body became two-dimensional as it entered the portrait. When he was fully inside, the surface of the painting changed strangely, becoming oddly blurred and unstable, like some strange liquid rather than canvas. It gave a weird afterimage effect as the man now moved and changed within the picture; first moving into a neutral standing position, then his whole body morphed gradually, his shape changing. His hat disappeared, revealing his full face and ice-blue eyes, and dark hair that lengthened to fall past his shoulders, becoming somewhat curly. His clothing melded and shifted, becoming a lighter grey, wide-necked full dress with a box-pleated skirt. His body finished changing, and the languorous liquid-like surface of the portrait solidified back to normal painted canvas. The painting now depicted a rather attractive young woman in a simple but nice dress standing in a nice park, with an expression of blank-eyed surprise.

The older woman sighed deeply as she regarded the image, then turned to me. I stared at her guardedly. "Who are you?"
"Don't worry," she said in a much more gentle voice than she had used before. "You have nothing to fear from me."
She revealed that she was actually the mother of the man who occupied this place, and a far more powerful Painting Master. He had thought her gone forever to faraway lands, but she had kept an eye on her son for a while. She had hoped that he would eventually stop his evil ways, but my encounter with him had apparently been the last straw for her. With no other alternatives working, she had finally decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.

After explaining the causes that brought me here, she searched around and soon came up with the amulet I had been looking for all this time, a simple, choker-style pendant with a pink heart-shaped jewel set in a larger gold heart. This part of my quest was now over, but the woman seemed genuinely friendly, so I stayed for a while and talked with her some more. She told me interesting things about how painting magic worked, and lamented tales of how she tried to raise her son to follow the path of goodness with his ability. Having witnessed someone be sealed inside a painting before my eyes, and nearly experienced it myself, I asked her some questions about how all of that worked. She answered a few things, then suggested, "I could show you first-hand, if you like." She indicated another large portrait nearby, which apparently depicted an eye-level view in the midst of sandstone buildings in a sunny seaside town.
Afraid but oddly fascinated by the idea, I inquired further and she explained how I would remain conscious, and she would take me back out again at any time I asked. I was suspicious, but I felt like I could trust her. I had in fact heard of some of her past exploits which established her as a good and nice person, and it hardly seemed likely that that level of Painting Mastery could be faked. Eventually, my curiosity took over, and I cautiously agreed to try it.

We went over to the painting, and she concentrated for a moment. Nothing seemed to happen, but she smiled and suggested I try to touch it. I went up to it, not sure what to expect, and tried to touch it. My hand went right through, with a very faint resistance at the threshold that was weaker than the surface tension of water. I looked in amazement from the side, with my arm partially inside the painting, and my hand visible in the picture as a flat image. Right now, the painting showed a disembodied arm sticking into the picture from the viewpoint, looking like it didn't belong at all. I couldn't move any part of it that was inside the painting, until I drew it out again, at which point it was just like normal once more. I stepped away and back to the woman, where she was standing close by.
"So, are you ready?" she asked. "There's no need to rush."
I was actually a little excited by now, so I told her I was ready. She smiled encouragingly, then made a vague gesture towards me with both hands. "It's probably more interesting if you go in backwards," she told me.

I felt another pull, but this time it was far less forceful. I could easily move away from this one if I wanted, but instead I let it move me closer to the portrait. As I got closer, it lifted me gently into the air, allowing me to relax fully and go along with it. My heart fluttered with excitement as I waited in anticipation, with no idea what would happen but eager to find out.

I felt that slight resistance pass over my whole body for just a moment, and knew it was starting. I was pulled a little way further back and then stopped. My immediate reaction was disappointment. Being inside the painting felt exactly the same as being outside. I seemed to just be in a small, rectangular boxlike room; the background of the painting was around me, with the ground of the sunny town beneath my feet, the clear sky above, and the rest of the backdrop on the other sides. Interestingly enough, I could see parts of it that weren't visible on the painting itself, but it was by no means a whole world in here. Oddly, the atmosphere did match that of the setting, though. Warming sunlight was shining on me, and I could smell the fresh air. In front of me, its size equivalent to that of the painting, was a hole in the setting, through which I could see the house interior I had just left, and the woman looking back at me. There seemed to be nothing at all separating the space; no glass or canvas surface.

Just as I was feeling underwhelmed in this moment, the other part of the crossing began. You see, at this point I had only entered the painting. I had not yet become part of it. Everything suddenly became blurry, with the same effect as I had witnessed earlier, but now it seemed to occupy the entire space I was in. I felt my body begin to morph and change, and realised I hadn't expected this specific part to happen to me too. Smoothly and painlessly, as if made of soft clay, my body shifted, its lines and curves softening and reshaping into the form of a beautiful girl. My straight hair grew quickly to become waist-length, lustrous and silky. My hips curved delicately and my behind became full and shapely while my manhood faded away, leaving flatness behind. My waist narrowed elegantly and my shoulders slimmed, while ample twin mounds of softness gently pushed out from my chest, shaping it pleasingly. The whole experience was amazingly sensual. Meanwhile, my clothing was reforming too, my simple, rugged traveller's garb shifting, mirage-like, to become a smart, elegant collared and buttoned blouse adorned with frills on every hem, and a mid-thigh skirt to match, showing off my beautiful and shapely bare female legs. My tough boots changed into cute but practical flat leather shoes, with frilled socks.

It had all taken only mere seconds, but it left me in a daze. I hadn't even noticed all this time that I couldn't move myself, until I felt my body move by itself, into a cute, demure and very feminine pose. A light breeze ruffled my clothes gently and blew my hair out to the side a little, where it froze in mid-air. Then the blurriness solidified back into sharp definition, and there I was: a close-to-life-size full-body painting of a beautiful girl of about 19, striking a dainty pose accompanied with a lovely smile, in a sunny seaside town. By all accounts, anyone looking at me hanging on the wall of the little old house would have no idea that I wasn't a completely normal painting. Although I felt physically normal, apart from suddenly being female, I found that I couldn't move in the slightest; not from being outright unable to move, but more like that my body simply wasn't listening to me when I tried. My field of vision seemed to be somewhat increased to make up for not being able to move my eyes, and strangely I was still breathing. Although it felt like my body was moving normally with my breath, it apparently wasn't doing so visually. Thankfully, I felt no tiredness or trouble in holding the same pose continuously. I noticed that the background around me seemed somehow less fake; it almost seemed as if it was a real place now instead of a small enclosure. Perhaps now that I was fully part of the scene, I was on the same level as the rest of it, making it 'real' to me. How this all worked seemed quite confusing.

"You do look nice," the woman smiled as she came closer, looking at me appraisingly. I of course was incapable of speaking in my current state, but it turned out that her Painting Master abilities allowed her to listen to my thoughts while I was part of the painting. From the outside it would look bizarre, as she was talking to a silent painting, but in actual fact we could converse this way.

First of all, I wanted to know why I had become a girl in the painting. She replied that it wasn't really known why that happened, but it seemed to depend on the person, and would happen to them in most, but not all paintings they entered. She didn't want to make any deeper guesses of why or what it might mean from that. Surprisingly I wasn't particularly bothered by the change that had come over me. For some reason, I felt very peaceful and relaxed in the painting, so I couldn't get at all upset about anything. Maybe the mood of the picture was affecting me now that I was part of it. The woman told me that while she hadn't done anything to my mind at all, it was very possible to do so if the Painting Master chose. Her son, for instance, had been placed in a more inward-facing experience, where he was going to relive and sort through his various actions over and over again until he understood why his ways were wrong. He would not be released until then, no matter how long it took. Her face had darkened with anger during this part, but she dispelled it quickly.
I asked about the house and how it had changed next. It turned out that the feeling I had had was quite close to the truth: it really did exist in two separate ways at the same time thanks to magic. The ruined state was the 'real' one, but this good one had been made just as tangible. It was some part of the two paintings that existed in both states that were the source of this effect, among others. It wasn't clear what else they might do. The woman was powerful indeed to be able to seal a Painting Master in one of his own magic creations.

I let myself relax for a bit, still enjoying the pleasant, almost dreamlike state I was in, along with the nice, bright and warm day of the town, and the curious but quite wonderful soft feelings of being a lovely girl without a care in the world. The woman, hearing my thoughts, smiled and told me that effects of comfort like that were common. I felt as if it would be easy to drift into a state of drowsiness and lose track of time. With her eyes twinkling, the woman informed me that I had in fact been a painting for six hours at this point.
What! Really? I thought, suddenly panicked to have lost track of time without noticing.
"Yes, but don't worry about it, dear." There had been pauses between each time we'd conversed, but I hadn't thought it had added up to this long.
Um... I think I'd like to get out now, please, I thought, now feeling sheepish and embarrassed.
"All right." Smiling merrily at the trick she'd pulled on a first-timer who didn't know how being in an inanimate state worked, she gestured with her hands once more, and I felt a pull like before. This time, it was pulling me out of the painting and out of my girlish pose. At the edge between the painted world and the real one, I felt the changes to my body melt away as I crossed. By the time I was fully out of the painting, I was back in my normal shape and attire.

It was indeed like waking up from a dream. Slowly and sluggishly, awareness of the necessities and problems of the real world returned to my mind, as well as remembering what my real body was supposed to feel like. While six hours would hardly mean the difference between success and failure for my quest, I was shaken by how easily the time had passed without my knowledge, and how much more time I could potentially have lost if the woman had not warned me at that point.

Still struggling to clear my head, I hastily thanked her for her help and got ready to depart. At least being in the painting actually seemed to have rested me somewhat, so I felt well able to make it back to the village despite the now late hour. I asked what she would do now, and she informed me she intended to stay and watch over her son for a while. I nodded, packing the amulet carefully among my possessions, and bade her farewell.
Still amused by the little joke she'd played, she saw me to the door. "See you later, pretty girl," she teased, mimicking my pose from the painting as she raised her hand in parting. I turned away as I waved back so she couldn't see me blush.

I felt good as I walked back through the darkening woods. The air was cool and crisp, and the stars and moon were beginning to shine in the sky above. All things considered, it had been a pretty good day. I had finally found another piece of the set I needed, and while it had gotten pretty close for a moment, everything had worked out just fine. Accidental loss of time aside, my experience as a painting had been unexpectedly pleasant too. Perhaps when all this was over, I might visit this kind-hearted Painting Master again to discover what else I could learn from her. Maybe I could even go with Aurora, my girlfriend, and try it out together with her. The thought gave me a little pleasant shiver. I wondered if I would still become a girl if we both entered a painting, and what kind of poses we would be in, and what she would be feeling from it all.

My mind filled with flights of fancy from the strange experiences of the day, I was barely even aware of my steady march back towards the village of Wichhane, where a soft bed and good meal awaited me. And then, I would set out on the next part of my journey.