Life in Paintings

Chapter 25 - Burning of a Witch

Chapter 25 – Burning of a Witch

If there was ever a moment when I assumed I might start only going through nice paintings, that completely goes up in flames, quite literally, when I open my eyes in the next painting.

I close them immediately because the smoke and the heat coming front the fire burning under me is too painful.

I'm on fire. I'm tied to a stake and I just know that I'm a witch and I didn't win my trial. I'm being burned at the stake.

I think back to Pompeii and the volcano erupting, but I push that thought away. I push any thought away other than the pain that I'm going through. The fire is catching quickly and my feet and legs are in so horrific pain that I don't think I'm going to last through this very long.

I don't know if I should be grateful for that.

Why would an artist exploit that kind of pain? What's the purpose behind using someone's last moments. Is it just for shock value or there's an actual reason behind it?

The problem is that I can't ask the artist. I can converse with the people in the paintings but not the artist himself, or herself. Without finding out their reason for anything I can merely speculate. If this curse is trying to teach me something, I'm missing an instructor.

Or maybe I'm just trying to think about anything but my melting flesh.

Still, I can't open my eyes. I can't look at what's going on around me. I can just suffer. What's the point of being in this painting if I can't know what's really in it?

Fortunately, I didn't have to go through the process of being tied, the excruciating pain of waiting for them to light the fire under me and for the fire to catch. I was brought right in the middle of it. I don't know if that makes it easier, somehow, if the apprehension makes it worst.

I just know that I'm screaming and that I'm in so much pain that I barely feel it anymore and that I can't breath, the air is too hot and to dense and I can't...