2 man stand side by side in the front of the painting. A painting of a simple white wooden house with some windows looking out. It surrounded by a huge green meadow and blue sky. The man on left wear a brown tux, chubby, and about 50 years old. The man on right wear a tidy white shirt with red tie and round glasses.

They have spend about 15 minutes walking around the museum, slowly chatting and talking about some painting and statue they came across.

For Ruben, the art curator, the man in glasses, this is just a daily walk. Once in a while a rich man will came and try to look for ‘beautiful and ‘prestige’ art to display on their home or office. This time is no different. Another older rich man looking for a prey to display in his home. All the client is the same, Ruben just had to craft a beautiful story for them to understand the true meaning of the painting, a story that is factual enough but sprinkled with a little drama to elevate the art status.

They walk on a long hall. Explaining each painting quickly as the client eye look at each of it for few seconds and wander again, meaning he is not interested.

‘The Unicorn, a beautiful 14th century painting by Pietro. The blue unicorn shine over the meadow. This is Petro masterpiece that was painted just after the war, picturing the joy he feel after all the pain.’

‘The Cat and The Dog, 18th century painting by Michael Briers. A joyful painting of pet he own. He love them so much as it bring a certain distraction for his everyday mundane life. At time he start to appreciate all the noise they bring. He later donate the painting to his local museum.’

‘Flower of Maine, 16th century painting by Sibylle, this is her daughter in yellow dress. The white bucket of flower symbolize the peace on their little village.’

The man eye keep jumping and his slow step doesn’t stop. Ruben keep narrating as they walk slowly on the hall. Then he stop on next painting. Ruben notice and let him soak it first.

‘So, what you can tell me about this one?’ the old chubby man ask.

‘This one, painted in 16th century, unknown artist. It was found by Franco Bell, the esteemed art critic, on a flea market. Mr. Bell valued this highly enough that he even hang it on his home. After he died the painting was donated here.’

The client look at it solemnly and silent. Ruben look closely at his expression. No reaction at all. He seem disgusted? He don’t think the client will buy this one.

‘Come, I want to show you something better-’ Ruben tried to move him.

‘What its called?’ the client ask quickly while still looking at the painting

‘Oh-, Mr. Bell call it A House In The Meadow.’

The client smirk and not taking his eyes off.

‘This is a jail’

Ruben is taken a back, but before he can say anything.

‘I want this one’ the client smile and finally look at him.

The process afterward happen too fast. The client talk with his higher ups and soon strike a deal that the museum director described as ‘stupid and lucrative’. Ruben feel something is wrong but has no way to object the sale.

‘Amazing! good job Ruben, we should celebrate a bit’ the director happily talk with him at workshop after the client left. He is an old man that still wake up early and pumped everyday.

‘Well its my job’ Ruben smile even though it still bother him

‘That painting has been on our collection for as long as I remember. 15 years give or take, it like finally letting a very old dog got adopted. Moreover with that amount, that thing maybe a Monalisa in disguise’ Director can’t stop smiling, his wrinkle got folded 100 times over now.

‘The art alone wasn’t enough you know’ Ruben said.

‘I really though you will sell him that blueish painting - what was that again?’

‘Blue Abyss, you should at least remember your own item’

‘That’s why I got my reliable pal here. Isn’t that your favorite?’

‘Oh you know me. Today, that one is my favorite. Next week? I already look for a better one. My favorite shift with mood and -’

‘Weather! Haha! I knew it. But give this one an ample time to prepare, its an old lady.’ Director said as he walk out the workshop while putting a phone on his ear.

Ruben has been tasked to prepare the painting for delivery to the man estate far North.

At night, he take off the painting from the wall alone and bring it to the workshop. The painting need to be wrapped properly in multitude of specialized package before it handed over to the courier.

When he put it on table in the workshop, he look at it longingly thinking about the client word.

A jail

‘I think I found a new favorite actually’ Ruben said to himself

‘Let’s spend some time together, one last time.’

He knew this painting well. He walk by it thousand times, he already study it for a long time albeit there is not much to learn about this painting. He knew the imperfection on some part of the painting. How can a common rich client knew more about this than him? The client’s job was a CEO at some manufacturer company? that man didn’t even brush his teeth more than him gazing at every painting in the museum.

Granted this painting is not the center piece, not a masterpiece like ‘Swan’ or ‘Invasion of Hades’, this painting is always just good enough to be always there on the wall but never bad enough to be taken down.

Ruben take another look in the painting and start to carefully look at the every single piece of the painting.

A brush mark on top left of the painting…

colonimbus cloud in grey sky…

dark green meadow…

a little chipped paint on one of the yellow roses…

the white wooden house…

the 3 black window…

a glimmer…?

Ruben take a close look on window on rightmost of the painting. Its a black window with nothing. Then he darken the light on the workshop, and take a red lamp to try see better.

a glimmer of cat eye on the window barely visible. the eye peek just a little bit from the window, with a shape of round head. It has no visible pupil.

He then take a look at other windows. No there is nothing there. Only on this single window.

He tried to take photo of it with his phone, but it barely visible. Is this why the client said it? he can see this?

He continue to scan the house, even more closely this time. He put the painting standing and slowly look.

a black line between the wood…

the line of window of top left…

flower on vases… 6 leaf… 2 yellow roses…

a chipped wood…

the door… the door handle… where is it?

He realized it now. The door don’t have handle. Does the painter forgot?

How can he miss this? this painting can told many more stories than a simple drama he concocted every time! he is ashamed.

He take a step back, his eye feel heavy after the intense focus and red light.

He decide maybe today is not a good time for him. The client doesn’t rush, neither the director. Tomorrow is Sunday, he can take some time off for now. He can finish it on Monday.

‘I should stop. why bother, soon this painting belong that man.’

---

Even on his home, he still have some though about the painting, luckily for him the football game catch his attention and he can put it aside for some hour. Filling his mind with other fun stuff he enjoy before he went to bed.

Inside his dream, he saw it, he stand in front of the white house. He inspect it like the painting. Seeing every part of the home closely.

The wood is oak..

the flower has no smell…

the wind bell slowly singing…

a pair of shoes in front of the door…

Then he remember, he can see what the side look like. So he walk to the side, curious what he will find on place that not shown on the painting.

He rustle on the grass and wind blow stronger. It just an ordinary path to back of the home, there are 2 more windows on the side. However, the second window is opened. He slowly walk approaching the window, scanning everything as he walk.

A tree in the back of the house…

a shovel leaning on the wall…

Patch of black dirt with no grass…

‘Come in’ a man whisp

Ruben jolt wakes up. He is breathing fast and he still can smell the meadow on his room. Wind is blowing in to his room, he forgot to close the window.

He groan while he tried to raise from the bed. After he close the window, he wash his face and think.

What was that?

He turn on the tv and tried to take his mind off again. The late night tv news is currently reporting quick section on various thing. The man in tux is smiling bright while bringing grim news is always make it unsettling. Unlike usual horror story, this one truly can hurt peoples.

‘The president has expressed support for additional measure in the border, can you believe that?’

‘We are going to talk with Professor Santiago, from University of Seattle’

Ruben take another sip of the beer, his mind start to wander.

A House in the Meadow.

‘President is wrong, this will stall our economy, we need them!’

A House in the Meadow.

‘We had to open the border, open the door, let them help us!’

A House…

‘I agree, open the door, Thank you Professor’

the news voice echo through his mind.

---

Ruben was a Catholic, at least, he is whenever someone ask. He believe that he is just good enough for heaven and not that bad to be put into hell. Sometime, he imagine himself telling story of his life to the angel that guard the heaven’s gate.

‘My parent was divorced when I’m 14, I went with my mother, my sister went with my father. As a single mother, she tried to raise me right. She work as a supervisor on local supermarket, I don’t really knew how much she earn, but it is good enough that I went to Disneyland when I was 15. That trip maybe just to spite my father thou, she doesn’t seem to enjoy Disneyland that much, and neither do I.’

‘I was a good storyteller, my mother was the one that told me that. One time, I had people sit around me, listening how I miss my flight home from uni, how I confess to my first crush, how I frantically look for a present to my mother on Mother’s Day.’

Ruben stop, take a deep breath and exhale.

‘I do miss my flight home, but I manage to get the next flight like 1 hour later, its not a big deal. There was no huge drama on the taxi, there was no traffic, I did panic when I woke up, but I didn’t hit my head on the way out.’

‘When I see people gather around me, I can see it in their eye. Their eyes are glistening, they are listening, and for that time, that moment in time, I am the only one.’

‘After a short stint on Wall Street and my relocation to local supermarket. When I was 35, I eventually go back home to burry my Mother. My father didn’t bother to come, but my sister was there. We catch up but I can see that my father has been a bad influence to her. She has tattoos and smoke a lot, not something that my mother will even allow.’

‘We catch up, but I can see that we have split away for so long that there is nothing chained us together again. I was bored. I don’t event bother to server her with my usual story, something I will do for others. Before we go home, she slap me in the face because I won’t lend her money. She start to blabber that I tarnish mother’s legacy. That she was a kind woman, that she will never let her daughter down. That I will also make my kid ashamed of me when they heard this. I don’t even bother to correct her at all. I never see her again. ’

‘My stint in art world, and my eventual success come when I was 40. I was a car salesman that sell car to rich slick man known as Mr. Eugene. He saw through my story, the car was never owned by local celebrity, but he want to give me chance. He saw where I can better tell my story. That is how I end up working on the Atelier. Selling art was much more easier than selling cars. Working there was the moment I discover that selling art might be my reason for living. I manage to buy an apartment because of this job and became well off. I have help artist sold their painting, they was so thankful that I manage to do it, it save him from months of stress. I take pride on this, I’m proud of this.’

Church bell are ringing outside his apartment. He look out, looking at the bell swinging.

‘But, do you…?’

His mind slowly flight back to the painting.

The story.

What was the story?

‘A House in the Meadow, unknown artist, Franco Bell found it and later donate it.’

What was the original story?

‘A House in the Meadow, it was already there when I join the atelier. Someone donated it to the previous curator. Who?’

---

The next day come. Ruben wake up early, determined to finally wrap the painting and never look at it again. He tell the courier to come and pick it up at lunch, they will deliver it straight to estate of the client.

Ruben tried to handle the painting without looking at it, but its a fruitless endeavor. He still take a look at every part of the painting with extreme criticality that he never had before. Every single wood vein on the frame suddenly stood and has a specific meaning.

His eye even sweep the painting one more time. He can’t help but look at all mysterious thing he find out. The door handle, the pair of shoes, and the eyes on the windows.

No. The eyes are gone.

Ruben froze. He quickly put the painting upside down on the box and immediately wrap it again and again. He put it on second box. A standard procedure in securing high value painting.

‘The eyes ARE not gone. It is hard to see and the light is not really supporting it. Lets finish this job’ Ruben though to himself.

He hurriedly put the final adhesive to the package and put it on table.

‘Ruben’ the museum director knocking on the workshop door. Ruben saw a younger rich boy, with just enough knowledge of art to sell them and profit.

‘The client want the painting delivered by Wednesday. Can you hand it over tonight to the courier?’

Ruben, distracted, look around. He try to pull himself and think about the question.

‘Yes, yes, I’m done, we can do it, I will call the courier now.’ Ruben answering without looking at director.

‘You okay Ruben? you look unwell’ the director still hang on the door.

‘I’m okay.’ Ruben finally look at him and his smirking smile.

‘Drink some ginger, just yesterday I also make my granddaughter drink one. she don’t like it thou.’ director smirk even more.

‘I’m okay.’ Ruben walk away from the workshop through the second door.

He went to the bathroom and use one of the stall, there is never a crowd here. He lock the door.

He breath in and out, trying to calm himself. He start to murmur.

‘The Unicorn, painted at 14th century, by Pietro. It combine blue hue of unicorn and green hue of the swamp to show the contrast of the beauty he find on the war.’

‘The Cat and The Dog, painted, 18th century, Michael Howard, cat and dog fight over a meat on the table. Symbolizing fight between the 2 city and riot that happen around his hometown. He sold it to.. he sold it to… a man.’

‘Flower of Maine, unknown painter, white bucket of flower held by a woman in yellow, no, green dress.’

‘Oracle of Delphi, sometime in 17th century, the painting was lost at 1775 but found again at Cordon at 1990. I bought it and hand it over to Maxwell’

Try again.

‘Oracle of Delphi, sometime in 16th century, oil, the painting was burned at 2004, Philia found it. She hand it over to Maxwell.’

‘A House in The Meadow’

he breath hard, he start to claw into his memory.

‘A House in The Meadow, Nikita, he, he found it on flea market, sold, no, donated to the museum. ’

Try again.

‘A House in The Meadow, Nikita, she found it on the Berlin vault.’

Image flash on his memory

‘she hate it, she hate it so much. She tried to burn it.’

cold sweat come down on his cheek.

‘She painted over the door, no, she close the door.’

Ruben open his eyes and hear a whisper.

‘Come in, Ruben’

Ruben walk out and wash his face quickly and punch his cheek.

His eye look at the mirror.

‘Open the door’

The whisper came from inside him.

Ruben rush back to the workshop. No one is there, the package still there. He tore it open again. He put the painting back and saw it.

There are eyes on every window. Laughing, calling him in.

‘Open the door' 'Open the door' 'Open the door' 'Open the door' 'Open the door' 'Open the door’

Ruben take a turpentine, and soak it on a cloth, he start to wipe the door. Carefully, with mix of excitement and fear. He feel compelled to do it, he never question it.

Slowly a black hall show itself.

His eye fixated on the black hall, darkness fill his eyes, void fill his ears.

He realize that he no longer on the workshop. Behind him a wind bell slowly ringing. In front of him are darkness of the house, he barely able to see the silhouette of stairs, desk, wallpaper.

Behind him, the meadow light creep into the door, but wind doesn’t come in. Then light, light begin to fill his eyes.

Ruben tried to look back. The blaze of green hurt him but he don’t care. As his iris burn, he keep looking at the blazes.

It told him the dark secret. So many secret. All the painting he handle is not what it seem. All is whispered into his ears, on vision of his eyes, and to every exposed skin on his face. Tear start to fall down his face. He knew nothing after all. So many lies, so many lies he told, yet the truth of those painting he handle everyday was so much more.

‘I, I see, I understand everything…’ he stop to breath

Then he saw something he don’t understand. A mission. A last mission for him. He don’t know why he had to do it. But he must.

Then next thing he knew, he return on the workshop. His eyes burned and he keep hearing a hissing sound. His vision slowly disappear, it darken. He no longer can hear even himself screaming. He compelled to do one more thing.

He force his body to stand up. He went and get the brush and canvas on the table. With pain on all of his body. He force himself to move and start to move the brush.

‘Just hang on. A little more. Hang on’

Just one painting, 103 stroke of brush left.

‘Why I had to do this?’ he ask while crying as his vision blur. But his hand can’t stop moving. The voice echo on his head.

Just one painting, 61 stroke of brush left.

‘It’s a jail’

Just one painting, 29 stroke of brush left.

‘I think I found a new favorite’

Just one painting, 3 stroke of brush left.

‘I take pride on this, I’m proud of this.‘

---

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