The world behind the painting - A short story

A short story this time, only 1.000 words, shorter than any part of The Dreamweb. It's a rewritten version of the opening of a quest on an rp thread on another forum. I hope you're not too fond of happy endings.

The world behind the painting

Deep in the dead of night, Simon was woken up by the sounds of laughter and soft music. It drifted through the room, although he had no idea where it came from. He slowly got out of bed and lit an oil lamp. He didn't let it burn too bright, afraid that he'd wake up Natalya, who was still sleeping peacefully. Slowly he began to search the dimly-lit room for the source of the disturbance. He was just about to give up when his eyes passed over the painting his wife had bought him for his birthday. He wasn't sure at first if his eyes were playing tricks on him in the dim light of the oil lamp, but when he took a closer look he saw he wasn't imagining things. Wispy green humanoid things were dancing and running among the trees, barely larger than his fingernail on the canvas. Still, they were moving, making soundÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâæ As he took a closer look, he noticed that runes were trailing along the inside of the frame. Some of them he recognised, because he had used them in spells. He knew how they were pronounced, although he didn't understand their meaning. Slowly he read the runes along the bottom side of the frame, and when he finished he saw that they had begun to glow softly. Surprised, he read them a second time. For some reason the laughter and music seemed to become much louder, but when he looked over his shoulder he saw that his wife was still fast asleep. He let out a sigh of relief before he read them a third time.

The rush of wind made Simon instinctively close his eyes, and when he opened them again he saw he wasn't in his bedroom anymoreÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâæ he was standing among the gigantic trees depicted in the painting, and the laughter and music were so loud now that they had to be real... He started walking, the feeling of dry leaves under his bare feet eliminating the last doubt that this might be a dream after all. Soon he stumbled across a clearing where about two dozen green-skinned women dressed in what seemed to be woven leaves, grass and tree bark were dancing. He realised that they were dryads, and he wondered what they were doing inside a painting. He vaguely remembered something about dryads being extinct for centuries, but for some reason he couldn't care about it anymore. Within seconds he was mesmerized by the dryad's magic and all he could do was stand there and watch them dance. Soon they had noticed him, and they shifted their dance so that they were now moving around him.

For hours Simon just sat there, staring, completely entranced, until he suddenly noticed the sun beginning to rise. The dryads noticed it too, as they stopped dancing and walked towards him. Before he could react he was lifted by two of them and carried off effortlessly. They ran along the trees with their sisters, as if to outrun the sunlight. As he looked around, he saw that one by one the dryads collided with a tree and disappeared, until only the dryads that were carrying him remained.

Then they too collided with a tree, still holding Simon between them. Instinctively he first tried to break away and then brace for impact, but the dryads wouldn't let him do either. He closed his eyes and prepared for a blow that never came. When he opened his eyes again he stood in what looked like a cavernous room carved out of the heartwood of the tree they had collided with. It was well-lit, although he didn't see a light source. Then he heard the dryads calling out his name, and when he looked around he saw them both stretched out on a pile of furs in a corner, and they beckoned him to join them. Completely dazed he walked over to them, but at the last moment something seemed to stop him. He wasn't sure why, but instead of lying down with the dryads he just picked up one of the skins and rolled it out across the room. The dryads seemed almost insulted by this, but soon they both curled up and slept, leaving the space they had reserved for him open. He didn't sleep however but just sat there, staring at the dryads and wondering where they had came from.

As Simon thought things over he realised that he couldn't even tell where he had come from, it was as if he had always been here to watch the beautiful tree spirits dance. Still, one word seemed to tug at him, as if to remind him that he wasn't supposed to be thereÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâæ NatalyaÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâæ he realised it wasn't a word but a name. It was all he had to hold on to, even though he had no idea what it meant. For hours he just sat there, trapped in a painting of millennial trees among tree spirits that were supposed to be extinct for centuries, clinging to what remained of his memories and fighting against the dryad's mesmerizing charm. In the end, all resistance crumbled.

Every now and then, some thoughts of resistance would still rise in his mind, but they were always quickly suppressed. He simply sat and watched for days, years, centuries. The mere sight of the dryads quenched his thirst, sated his hunger, dulled his mind. At night he would leave the tree to dance along with the tree spirits if he had the energy, or simply watch them if he didnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t. During the day he would seek the comfort of a dryadÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s embrace, bathing in their warmth, their comforting touch, their mesmerizing presence. Never would he leave the canvas again. His young wife was all but forgotten. She would spend the rest of her life in voluntary solitude. The wound left behind by the sudden disappearance of her husband would not heal. In the end she could not find it in her to forgive him for leaving her. She died bitter and alone, her unmarked grave unattended by children or grandchildren. The painting passed hands several times before ending up in a forgotten corridor in an old museum. Up to this day, nobody has managed to unlock its dark secret, although to this day some visitors claim to hear faint music when they watch it long enough.

woah just found this, Cool story! I've read a few stories that did similar things with entering paintings but this was by far the best. I didn't like the ending though, it seemed like a bit of a let down.