short story about a girl :)

The crunching of dead leaves underfoot was loud in the otherwise silent forest, so loud you had to strain to hear the distant sounds of the town, but still she ran. She ran all the way back to the cottage, slammed the door and bolted it shut with shaking hands. The overwhelming rush of adrenaline was suddenly too much and she slid to the dusty floor of her house, gasping for breath.She sat with her back against the door for quite some time, conscious of every sound in the house, listening carefully but only hearing the sound of her own heavy breathing.

The girl sighed, finally convinced that she was not followed. From under her oversized shirt she brought a delicate wooden box, clearly old but in pristine condition, that suggested it was an expensive antique. On it were carvings of peculiar looking letters and other decorative sorts. She looked around again, just to be sure, and carefully opened the lid.

For such a grand box the contents were somewhat disappointing, only old paints and ordinary brushes filled the polished mahogany box. The girl however, marvelled at all the different colours; she took them all out one by one and spread them on the ground in order. A scrap of paper stuck to the side of the tube of violet caught her eye, it read: use these with caution.

The sound of the door trying to be opened alerted her and she hastily gathered up her tubes of paint and threw them back into the box, then ran it upstairs and slid it under a loose floorboard in her room.

"Coming!"she called and ran back downstairs to greet her brothers and sisters at the door.

The next day, after her brothers and sisters had left for work the girl took out the box from under the loose floorboard she had hid it in the night before. Again, she arranged the paints in order in front of the mirror. Next to the mirror she had set up and easel and a blank canvas, ready to be painted on.

She stood in front of the mirror and studied her reflection, looking at the smallest of details and memorising them. When she was finally satisfied, she picked up a brush and started to paint.

When she finished, on the canvas was the exact same image that stood in the mirror. She looked at the two reflections of herself and smiled; satisfied that she had done a good job. She packed up all her brushes and put the colours back into the box, again slipping it under the loose floorboard.

The girl took a deep breath and exhaled onto the canvas, in a way that seemed like she was trying to resuscitate the girl in the painting, almost like she was trying to breathe life itself into the now motionless form. She smiled again, and whispered so quietly that if you weren't paying close attention it would easily have been missed:

"Goodbye", and then proceeded to climb out of the window and run towards the rising sun. The girl in the painting quivered, like the air sometimes quivers on a hot day in the distance.

But what happened next would have been hard to pass off as a trick of the light; The girl in the painting blinked, once, twice, then shook her head and peeled herself out of the picture, so that she was three dimensional, a spitting image of her creator.

The girl turned to look in the mirror, but this time there was no reflection.

The End

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