The Cursed Painting I should have listened to my gut instinct that day But like a fool I ignored the uneasy feeling and let my greed get the better of me If only I had known the nightmare that painting would unleash It all started innocently enough at a local estate sale I'm an art collector always on the hunt for interesting pieces to add to my collection When I saw the ancient ornate frame I was immediately drawn to it like a moth to a flame As I examined the painting itself my breath caught
in my throat The scene depicted was utterly grotesque - a mass of twisted demonic figures writhing in agony against an infernal backdrop of fire and brimstone The colors seemed to almost move and pulse on the canvas The faces of the damned were rendered in excruciating detail their expressions of eternal torment and anguish practically leaping off the painting It was the stuff of nightmares and yet I could not tear my eyes away utterly transfixed "That's the cursed Benton painting " the estate o
wner warned me in a hushed voice "It's said to be haunted that anyone who owns it is doomed to a life of suffering and misery " I scoffed at the ridiculous superstition Hauntings and curses were just old wives' tales meant to scare children This was the find of a lifetime for any art collector worth their salt I refused to let some silly ghost story stop me from obtaining such a prize "Name your price " I said with greedy confidence "I must have it for my collection " The old man's eyes went wid
e with fear but he named an exorbitant sum I paid it without a second thought so desperate was I to possess that disturbing painting If I had known what tragic chain of events I was setting in motion I would have turned and run At first everything seemed perfectly normal after taking the cursed painting home and hanging it up in the main hallway of my house But soon odd things began happening that raised the hairs on the back of my neck Small objects would go missing for days only to inexplica
bly reappear somewhere else Strange noises could be heard in the night like whispers or growls from something not of this world I tried to rationalize it away as my mind playing tricks on me due to that ridiculous curse story But the night terrors that began soon after proved to be truly terrifying I would wake up in a cold sweat my heart racing with horrific visions of the damned figures from the painting seared into my mind's eye Their anguished faces and pitiful cries for mercy echoed endless
ly long after I had rejoined the waking world Things only grew worse from there No matter how carefully I tried to keep my home neat and orderly a thick layer of ash would accumulate every few days coating every surface like a foul sooty membrane The sharp acrid stench of brimstone would permeate the air until my eyes burned and my lungs ached with every breath I soon stopped inviting people over afraid of what they might see or sense happening within my home's walls Even with every window open
to air out the sulfuric stench there was no escaping the overwhelming feeling of dread that now seeped from every corner Desperate I looked for any information I could find on the history of the painting to try and understand why this was happening What I uncovered I would never be able to forget The artist a man named Elliot Benton had attempted to summon a demon through an ancient ritual in order to make a deal for incredible painting abilities and fame But he ended up literally making a deal
with the devil by accidentally unleashing a powerful demonic entity into our world through the black magic ceremony For decades it tormented and corrupted poor Benton with nightmarish visions the trauma of which he then horrifyingly transcribed onto his canvases in what he called his "Pipe dream Spectre" series My cursed painting was the final piece he completed before the demons finally consumed his soul quite literally burning him alive in his studio So the stories were true this painting was
indeed cursed haunted by the very demon that had tortured its creator And somehow in possessing this accursed work I had unwittingly become its next victim I nearly burnt the vile thing right then and there but my pride and greed stayed my hand This was an invaluable piece of art history I couldn't simply destroy it could I? Things only spiraled deeper into a fresh hell from there More than once I awoke to the bed shaking violently only to look up and see the painting's eyes glaring maliciously
back at me Dark oily shadows would take on vaguely humanoid forms and seem to reach out from the canvas itself towards me with twisted gnarled claws On three separate occasions I saw the disgusting hunched figure of the demon clearly manifest in the hallway right in front of the painting for just a moment before vanishing into thin air each glimpse filling me with sheer primal terror I stopped sleeping terrified of what new torment awaited in my dreams But the waking world offered no reprieve
only more strange happenings and signs that I was losing my grip on reality Phantom laughter or screams could suddenly fill the air Horrible visions of those demonic forms bleeding through the corners of my eyes would appear and vanish in an instant Finally after over a month of this endless psychological torture the painting's power reached a dreadful crescendo As I sat alone in the dark den one night too afraid to even turn on the lights anymore a sound like metal scraping on metal suddenly f
illed the room Horrified I watched as the shapes in the painting began to writhe and shift ever so slightly their eyes growing wide as if suddenly awakened A deep guttural growl seemed to reverberate from all around me Then just as quickly the growl transformed into a screeching howl of fury as the forms in the canvas began to thrash about more violently now clearly straining against the confines of the frame! I scrambled back in terror as the frame began to crack and splinter A noxious green
mist started leaking out quickly spreading throughout the room I gasped for air as the hazy vapor burned my lungs the foul odor of decaying flesh invading my nostrils With a final deafening crunch the forms exploded forth from the confines of the canvas in a swirling mass of contorted bodies all clawing and howling in unholy fervor They seemed to be composed of a strange viscous ooze like Living breathing tar bubbling with rage and malice I screamed in abject horror paralyzed by the sheer revol
ting sight of them slithering ever closer with hooked talons extended Their numberless faces twisted into sadistic grins endless rows of razor teeth gnashing together with unbridled hunger Within those slavering maws slick obsidian-black tongues lashed out trying to taste my terror like a delicacy Just as their foul breath washed over me a blood-curdling roar shook the very foundations of the house An impossibly large horned shape emerged from the doorway blotting out what little light there was
with its mere presence The hellish entity towered nearly to the ceiling of the high-ceilinged room its hulking frame dripping with that same black ichor as the other demons I sank to my knees tears streaming down my face as I shook my head in disbelief and despair The nightmares had manifested into a living hell I was too far gone now; there was no hope of salvation from the demon's clutches All I could do was await my grisly fate at the clawed hands of these unholy abominations Until that mome
nt the creature had simply watched with those cold pitiless eyes But as the realization of its victory dawned in my eyes a gnarled smile crept across what passed for its face making every fiber of my being coil up inside Two curved horns jutted up from its forehead nearly scraping the ceiling as it let out another glass-shattering bellow of triumph As it lowered its misshapen head towards me and the foul stench washed over me once more a single thought screamed from the depths of my shredded psy
che: I should have listened to my gut instinct I should have never brought that painting into my home And then the demons attacked
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