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The Painted Voyage

Sometimes I’ll just stare out the window and think about it. I’ll think about it long and hard. While it happened decades ago and I have moved on with my life, I still get the biggest chills when I am reminded of the tragic event. I tell myself all the time that it must have been an illusion or some wicked dream. But it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

I was twelve years old at the time, and I still remember all the exciting commotion from everyone boarding the ship. For many, this ship was a symbol of everything good. The smell, the visuals, and the feel of it were all truly remarkable. I thought of this upcoming voyage as a new chapter in my life. My father had passed away the year prior and money was always an issue. Life at the time was terrible but I was optimistic for the future in America.

All I wanted to do was have some fun during the voyage itself. I quickly befriended a rich kid who resided in the first class. His name was Edison. Unlike the other snotty rich kids who brushed me to the side, Edison was a good guy. He was just like me. We would run around and be those two ‘know it all’ preteens that would annoy all the adults with the mischief we’d get into. We would pull so many pranks like temporarily stealing things or placing stink bombs at various places. We’d get in a lot of trouble for them. We’d then just laugh until we couldn’t any longer. It was great.

One night, I stayed over in his room. We must have talked for hours. We talked about our life, our families, and our greatest fears. It felt great knowing that I could confide in him and not worry about being judged. He actually understood me. He too let me know of his life struggles, which took me by surprise. I was so naive to think that he had his life perfect considering his wealth. From that point on, I knew we would be the best of friends.

“Do you wanna meet up with some of the other kids today?” He asked me the following morning as we both woke up rubbing our eyes.

“Are they cool?” I replied.

“Yeah. I think so,” Edison said.

I was slightly nervous by this idea as I was in the third class and I knew Edison had many friends in his class. Nevertheless, I agreed to meet them. He went on to tell me that he met a girl who seemed pretty cool. He felt bad for her because he thought that she didn’t have any friends. I agreed to befriend her, as I know how it feels to not have many friends either. We walked over to her suite just down the hall. Edison knocked on the door. We are greeted by a girl our age, who was dressed as if she was about to go to some fancy tea party.

“Edison! What a pleasant surprise!” she asked.

“I was wondering if you want to play tag on the deck or maybe swim with us,” Edison replied.

“Oh ok. Who’s this by the way?” she asked, clearly referring to me.

“This is my friend Charlie,” he said.

She looked at me head to toe and I felt unfairly judged. She looked at Edison with a confused face first but then looked at me seconds later. “Oh, hi Charlie! What a lovely name. Pleased to meet you. I am Martha.”

“Are you busy or anything?” Edison asked.

“I’m just playing with my dolls and stuff. Today seemed like the perfect day to do so. You guys want to come in?” she asked. She never stopped smiling.

“Oh, that’s ok. We wanna go for a swim. Thanks anyways,” Edison said.

“Wait,” Martha said. “Just come in for a little while. I want to show you guys something really cool! A real treat!”

Edison and I both agreed. We went inside, and the paintings immediately caught my eye. There was an absurd amount of them that covered the red walls. The paintings consisted of someone with long black hair and a long black cape, just walking around various areas. Practically everything about the wardrobe of this figure was black. I couldn’t tell if it was a male or a female. The figure had a hat that provided shade over its face in every picture. The hat looked like something President Lincoln would wear.

The areas in which this figure inhabited were especially interesting. They were all shown in a night setting, and a disaster was happening in each and every one of them. Some had burning houses while others depicted crossfires or severe car crashes. All with this figure lingering on the side. It creeped me out. Edison didn’t much of a reaction to these paintings.

“So I see you’re taking an interest in these paintings,” Martha said. “May I ask your opinion?”

“Well, they’re interesting,” I replied back. I wish she’d stop talking like she was so fancy and sophisticated.

“Why thank you, sir. I drew them,” she said.

I was surprised. She didn’t seem like she’d draw scary paintings at all. I was genuinely curious about the black figure, so I decided to ask her about it. “Who is the, um, fella wearing all black, in all your paintings?”

“Oh, it’s just for art. That is all. Anyways I’m glad you took a liking to them,” she said, giggling.

I turned to Edison so I could potentially signal him with my eyes that we should just leave this girl alone, but he wasn’t responding to me. His eyes were just on Martha the whole time. And oddly enough, he kept silent. He was usually someone to talk and give his opinions whenever he could. His eyes remained wide-opened, just staring at Martha.

“You have talent,” I said. “Anyways I think I better be going actually. Mom’s probably worried sick.”

“Oh, but you just got here! Please stay for a bit. I get lonesome here. You two seem really interesting,” she said.

I reluctantly agreed. I told myself I wouldn’t stay longer than half an hour.

“Oh, splendid! Tell you what guys, I have leftover cookies from breakfast this morning. Super delicious. You two wait here. Don’t leave,” she said. She walked away to enter the kitchen. It was then just me and Edison with all these paintings surrounding us.

“What do you think about these paintings?” I asked him.

“Charlie,” Edison said. He was as still as a statue. “Did you not see it?”

“See what?” I asked him.

He didn’t look at me nor did he respond. Martha later came back with some cookies and directed us to the dining table. We sat there and talked about our experiences we have had for the past few days. Martha continued to blabber about how she didn’t like the other kids. She kept on insisting that we were the only ‘cool’ ones.

“Anyway guys,” Martha said after finishing her cookie. “Tonight is the big night!”

“What is the big night?” I asked.

“It’s a surprise. You’ll see,” she replied.

Although this girl was nothing but weird, I found Edison’s behavior to be even odder. He barely said a word during the conversation. He would only speak when he was asked a question. This was not him at all. He was quite loquacious. He also never made much eye-contact.

“Martha, what was it that you wanted to show me? I need to be leaving soon,” I said.

“Oh course! Wait here,” she said. She walked over to the kitchen again and came back with a canvas. It was another painting. Great. She glanced at her painting as her smile widened. She then showed me the painting. “Do you like it?”

One look at the painting and I became deeply concerned. It depicted a ship. Sinking. Not surprisingly, it was a night setting. It was at a fair distance, with the water being splashed about everywhere due to all the people drowning in it. The ship itself seemed as if it was about to break from all the physical damage. The facial expressions of those that you can see were filled with terror. Why would she draw something like this when we were in a ship ourselves?

But the best part? That figure. That same black figure. It was on the left side of the painting, looking at the ship itself at an oblique angle. I told her I didn’t like the painting whatsoever.

“Really? Oh, rats. I worked on it for hours. You really don’t find this painting pleasant? You just hurt my feelings,” she said.

“Why would you draw that?” I asked.

“Charlie,” Edison said out of nowhere. “Tell her you like her painting. Now.”

I looked at Edison immediately. This behavior was not him at all.

“Martha,” I said. “Your paintings are kinda creepy, but I do admit you’re a good artist,” I said.

“I didn’t ask you to tell her that she’s a good artist,” Edison said. He didn’t look at me. His eyes were strictly at the painting. “Tell her you like the actual painting itself. Please, Charlie. Please do it.”

“I like your painting,” I finally said. I began to worry about Edison.

“Oh thank you, Charlie!” She said. “And one more thing. Do you mind signing your name on it?”

I looked at her with a confused face. I did not know why she would want my signature on her painting. She was truly not like any other girl I have met. She held out a charcoal pencil right in front of me.

“Sign it,” Edison said.

“Are you sure?” I asked Martha.

“Yes,” she said. “You see Charlie, I have chosen you for a reason. I like you a lot. I hope you can respect my culture in signing this painting? Just sign it anywhere. It doesn’t need to be fancy. I will appreciate it, and well, so will everyone else involved.”

I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about but at that point, I did not care. I grabbed the pencil and looked at the painting. For an odd reason, I felt repelled to sign my name anywhere near that black figure, so I signed it on the opposing side.

“Charlie, thank you,” Martha said. “You really made this whole thing possible.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. I began to walk towards the exit door. “I’ll see you guys around.” I received no response.

As soon as my hand touched the doorknob, the lights went out. I called out for Martha and Edison. I asked if the power was out. Again, no response. I tried opening the door but it was locked. I didn’t want to let go of the doorknob so I held my hand firmly to it. I was in a foreign room with no light while trapped with a strange girl and strange paintings. Not an ideal situation by any means. I called out their names yet again. Nothing.

The room started shaking. It was gentle at first, but then the shaking became strong. I grabbed the doorknob with my other hand and held it tightly. I was not religious of any sort but I began to pray. The chandeliers shook violently as if someone intentionally kept shaking them just to make this scenario all the more dramatic. I felt like I was being mocked. At one point, I heard the table I was just sitting at flip over, with the glass cups and vases breaking on the floor. All I could do was hope that everything would be okay.

The shaking eventually stopped. I tried to calm down my heavy breathing, wiping off some sweat from my forehead at the same time. It was still as dark as ever. I tried opening the door again, but no luck. Thankfully the lights came back on.

My back was facing Martha and Edison. I was terrified to turn around, and I don’t know why I would be. But I was. I could feel all the sweat traveling down my legs. After a few seconds, I calmed myself down. I turned around nervously.

There was no physical damage. The chandeliers and paintings were still intact on the ceiling and walls respectively. The table I had heard fall down apparently didn’t fall down. It was standing upright as if it never fell, with the painting I had just signed still on top of it. Martha was standing. She was rubbing her hand gently on the painting as if it was everything she ever cared about. She was giggling so maliciously that it was a disgusting sight to see. She was actually singing to herself but I could not make out the words. She acted as if nothing had happened whatsoever.

Edison was nowhere to be found. I was officially frightened. I felt paralyzed. Martha seemed absolutely insane. It took every ounce of bravery to speak.

“Martha, what happened? Where is Edison?” I asked.

She completely ignored me as she continued to stroke the painting. She then picked up the painting, turned around, and hung it on the wall along with the rest of the paintings. She again looked at the painting and laughed. A part of me had a strong desire to confront her about her behavior but I was too scared to do anything. I watched her move about so slowly as if it was a walk in a park.

She proceeded to skip to the kitchen with that disgusting laugh of hers. She entered another room, and as soon as the door shut, her laughing ceased. Of course, the light had to turn off again. I couldn’t see a thing and now I was back to step one. The only thing that was going for me was that the door I held on to was finally unlocked. I was so anxious about what might be on the other side. Despite this, I slowly opened the door and walked out into the hallway.

Although I couldn’t see anything, I felt like I just walked into a large vacant room. I called out for help. Nobody. I walked around while extending my arms in case I hit a wall. I was so terrified and I began to cry for the first time since my father’s death. I stopped walking and sat on the floor, with my knees close to my chin as I hugged them tightly. I tucked my face in between my knees and torso and continued to cry.

A few minutes later, I felt a sudden intensity of heat. It felt as if something was burning a few feet away from me. I didn’t want to let go from the fetal position I was in, but the temperature rise was so intense that I had to look to see what the cause of it was.

I turned to my right to see a small red-lit area. It was at a distance, perhaps a bit less than a quarter mile away. Everything else was still dark. I wiped my eyes to take a closer look. The red lit area was the only area visible. It was like I was on stage for a play but the spotlight lights were shining on the other side of the stage. In this spotlight, I saw what looked to be large lit candles that were placed on long sticks and black objects on the floor.

I walked there slowly. Every step I took, my heart rate increased. My adrenaline was at an all-time high even though I was merely walking. As I got closer, I realized that these black objects were kids dressed in black cloaks. They sat in a small circle. They all had a hood covering their heads so I was not able to look at their faces clearly. The children were surrounding something. I couldn’t tell what it was until I got even closer. I saw that a painting was hanging from the wall. It was slightly swinging back and forth like a pendulum. The painting was.. the painting was…

Was the one I signed back in Martha’s room. The one depicting a sinking ship.

I eventually became only a few yards away from the children. They didn’t notice me so I was relieved by that. Nevertheless, I was still more than terrified. I watched these kids just sit there in front of a swinging painting. I closed my fists as hard as I could and tried my best to not make even the slightest of noise.

The sound of a piano broke my concentration. It was playing in a soft and eerie way. It was like someone got to a piano just in time and started playing so that the ‘play’ on stage would continue. The children began to sing softly.

“There is no other way, they all fall down. There is no other way, they all fall down. There is no other way, they all fall down.”

I wanted to die. I was so creeped out that I couldn’t even think straight whatsoever. It was when they then removed their hoods that my adrenaline really skyrocketed. I saw Edison in the group.

Out of nowhere, a figure entered the red spotlight from the black darkness surrounding it. It was a figure that must have been about eight feet tall. It too had a long black cloak covering everything. It had a black hat – one that president Lincoln would wear. I didn’t want to believe it. But there it was. It wasn’t even walking. It was floating. It always had a slight white mist revolving around it.

The figure stopped in front of the painting. The children stopped singing. The tall figure proceeded to remove the painting from the rope in which it was hanging from. Immediately, in the corner of the red-lit area, a fire spawned. The figure took the painting and placed it in the fire. It then picked it up, and with what I assumed to be its hands, rubbed the canvas in such a gentle manner. It was as if all it cared about was the painting.

In the most dramatic way possible, it immediately looked at my direction. Whoever was at the ‘piano’ seemed to now play furiously. I was paralyzed from the neck down and my eyes refused to blink. My body was undergoing physiological changes that I don’t even think any expert in the field of physiology could explain.

The children got up and started laughing. They began to run towards me. They each ran passed me one by one, laughing about as if this was a friendly game of tag.

Edison was the only one to stop running and stare at me. He was a few feet away from me and had a frozen face. He didn’t look real at all. He looked like he was cloaked in something that made him appear ghost-like, which was of high contrast to the darkness surrounding him. What scared me the most were his eyes. They were nothing but robotic. It was like he was staring through me rather than at me.

He proceeded to blink tightly. When he opened his eyes again, they became different. This time, he was looking at me. His ghost-like appearance disappeared, and he became real-looking. His eyes were filled with just as many tears as mine. He screamed.

“Charlie! Charlie!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. I could tell he was terrified just as much as I was.

“Edison?” I whispered softly. I couldn’t scream. I was too scared.

“Help! Help!” he kept yelling. He was crying violently in the process.

My heart sank. I didn’t know what to do. I just stared at him, crying like I have never before. It was then when I noticed that the tall black figure was no longer in the red-lit spotlight. The red spotlight area was officially empty except the candles and weird symbols written on the floor that I had just noticed. When I turned my attention to Edison, I gasped. His mouth was being covered by something that belonged to the figure. His eyes were as wide as ever. I would never forget the amount of hopelessness that his eyes had.

The figure then smiled. It didn’t have teeth. Its mouth was just…red. The rest of the face was still covered by the shadow of the hat. It was still hovering. Just watching this figure felt like someone was physically stabbing me with needles all over my body. Truly abominable.

Sadly, Edison’s eyes became robotic-like again. He stared in my direction, again as if he was looking through me rather than at me. He became ghost-like, and I did nothing but cry and watch him fall victim to this sinister figure. He faded into the darkness in a matter of seconds.

An abrupt wind occurred out of nowhere. The wind became so strong that I couldn’t help but to squint my eyes. The figure then extended its neck a few feet towards me and screeched a loud groan. The figure finally opened its eyes. Instantly, I was blinded. A white ray of light struck me. It was like flashing a million of the brightest cameras possible in my direction. It must have messed with my brain because I was not able to think or move for a few seconds.

The noise I heard was not human. I repeat, it was not human. It gave me a massive headache as this noise being emitted from this figure continued. The closest detail I can get to describe the noise is to imagine if a female bear that was ready to attack another creature because it had just messed with her cubs times the sound of the sharpest nails rubbing against an old chalkboard times, plus more. But one thing that was clear about this noise was that it was full of hatred.

After I adjusted my eyes from the bright white flash, I looked at the figure’s eyes. They were completely white. They had an eclipse shape to them. The eyes weren’t even on its actual face. It was floating a few inches away from its face.

With this wind, noise, and an all-powerful demonic creature in front of me, I thought I was done for. Yet for some reason, I felt like whatever force there was to get me kept failing. The figure screamed even louder as if it was furious. It then began to fly at me. With no time to waste, I turned around and ran for my life. I was running in a complete dark void, with something inhuman chasing me.

My extreme fear turned into motivation as I ran in the pitch black. I had no idea where I was going, but I knew I just needed to run. The wind, which initially was in my direction, was now against me. I contracted every single muscle fiber in my entire body to move as fast as I could.

I saw Edison again. He was running alongside me. He was much faster now so he passed me quite quickly. This time, he didn’t acknowledge me even though I was in his field of vision. He was laughing hysterically. He kept running and vanished in the dark distance ahead of me. That was the last time I ever saw him.

With every last bit of energy I had in my body, I kept moving forward into the everlasting darkness. Everything after was a blur. I don’t remember much at all. A part of me refuses to even believe that anything worse happened after. All I remember was the figure screaming as loud as ever. Then the noise came to a halt. The wind stopped. In the next instant, I was on the deck of the ship. I was no longer in a dark void. I was finally back in the real world.

It didn’t take me long to realize that the ship I boarded just a few days ago was now sinking. I had no idea why or even how. I looked at my hands while many people ran past me in fear. I wiggled my fingers. I placed my hand on my chest and I felt my heart beat. The cold wind hit hard against my skin. I had somehow made it. But the journey was far from over.

Everybody around me was panicking. The ship was at an angle. it was oddly night time. I looked down to see the bow of the ship not even visible because the water had already covered it. People were falling. People were screaming. I couldn’t listen to my thoughts in my head. I saw that there were already many people in the water, crying for help that was clearly not there. I saw the half-filled small lifeboats rowing away. I felt like I could see those cliche timers above people’s heads that signaled their time of death. For many, it was only a matter of minutes left. I could see that despair had entirely filled the atmosphere of the deck. Everything was so loud and yet everything was so quiet at the same time. The humanity of those around me was falling exponentially as the ship continued to self-destruct.

I somehow managed to get inside a lifeboat after everything. When the crew members were about to send down the lifeboat into the ocean, I saw her. Martha. She was skipping down the ship. She was laughing at the misery of others. She was also singing a tune. For some odd reason, even with all the loud commotion of the people in between us, I could hear what she was singing.

“There is no other way, they all fall down. There is no other way, they all fall down. There is no other way, they all fall down.”

Nobody seemed to notice her at all. When she reached the part of the deck that was near me, she moved slower. She looked at me. She gave me the most sinister smile I had ever seen. She was happy about all of this. I hated her. To this day, I still refuse to believe she was an actual girl. It must have been something else that took the form of a girl. After looking at me for a few seconds with that ugly smile, she continued to skip happily down the ship singing. She eventually faded into the crowd. I never saw her since. The crying and yelling of the soon-to-die passengers overtook my consciousness.

The sounds of everybody slowly died out as my lifeboat moved away. The ship had broken in half. The tears in my eyes felt like they were frozen from how cold that night was. I watched in despair as the ship said its final goodbye to the world. I whispered goodbye to my mother, as I had this feeling that she didn’t make it. Everything was just awful. Truly, truly awful.

On the early morning of April 15, 1912, the Titanic had officially sunk. All of us in the lifeboats simply waited in the middle of the freezing Atlantic Ocean. Thankfully, the RMS Carpathia arrived not long after to save all of us.

It was when I was boarding the rescue ship named Carpathia that something caught my attention. Something was in the water floating nearby. I rubbed my eyes and took a closer look. It was the painting I signed in Martha’s room only hours before, still in perfect condition.

Ever since then, I always question if any tragic event I have heard on the news was because of this creature and its paintings. Writing this story was a lot for me emotionally, but I am now ready to accept the truth. There is something out there just lurking about, playing with the lives of human beings as if it is all a game. I’d never thought I’d say this, but I hope I come across it again. This time, I won’t be so scared.

Credit: Jordan B

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Source: Learn about Ghost Hunters and Real Demonic Possessions here, plus see Real Ghost Pictures and explore the Paranormal and the Unexplained


Creepy Pasta

by cnkguy
The Painted Voyage

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