The Portrait

Walking down the wide stone steps your hand on the cold cobbled walls to guide your step, "Don't bring a light; never bring a light." Whispering to yourself helped quell the fear.   These dark halls and curved stairs seem to down forever but eventually a light reveals the bottom of the steps.   "I only have to repla—" your foot freezes in midair as something tugs on your shirt and you feel your heart sink, "I should ignore it, ignore it."   Heeding your own warnings forcing your gaze forward; locked at the light down below. Continuing down while ignore the tugging, until it disappears after the last step.   Down the hall a dim flickering light scatters through the cracks and keyhole of an old wooden door.   You quietly approach it and silently pull the key from your pouch, "always unlock the door before entering, and lock it after leaving, even if it's already open."   The sound of the rusty key entering the lock is almost deafening in the soundless hallway, your hands sweaty, "why does it have to be so loud, I should have brought oil," then with a clunk, it unlocks.   You remember to breathe, and oh so gently push the door open.   The wood scrapes over the floor, unveiling a round room with no visible ceiling.   The cobbled walls are stained by a black viscous liquid, dripping down without any seeming source, it seeps from the cracks in the wall to the crevices in the floor.   A small flame flickers from a burnt candle that sits on a stool in the center of chamber, hardened wax pouring off the stools edge shows it is not the fist candle to have lit this room, "I'm not too late yet."   Behind it an easel covered with a dirty brown sheet, "the sheet, you can't even tell it was once white."   The shadow of the easel sways with the what little light candle emits, the black liquid glitter on the walls.   Carefully threading as you pull out the replacement candle, "almost there, almost there."   Reaching the stool you kneel down to light the new candle using old flame, the portrait; even under the sheet, looms over you, and when you find your eyes glance up, you feel something looking back down through the thick fabric.   You pull your focus to the now burning candle and place it gently on the old flame, snuffing it. You freeze for a moment, hoping it is enough.   What should be a moment feels like forever, but the candle stands and its flame is lit.   You let out an elated sigh, making sure not even the lightest of breaths are directed at the candle, "yes, yes! time to go."   Carefully you back out of the room as quietly as you can and pull the door shut.   But right as you try to lock the door, the scraping of the key is interrupted by a small thud from the room and everything goes black, "no, shit, no."   "No, no, no." your feel your heart slamming in your chest as panic sets in, you quickly lock the door.   When you try to pull the key out of the lock, its pulled out of your hand instead, a breeze passes into the room and you can't feel the presence of the door anymore.   But something is there, and it-