The panic crept over him slowly like a painting gradually emerging from the blank canvases that now stared at him. The same ones which yesterday had held dark fractured creatures of his imagination now stared emptily back at him.. Although these creatures were illusionary, painted only with his brush, thus trapped in their canvas cages, their settings were not.
This project had been over a year in the making, mainly because of those settings. Places which he had discovered only as a result of varied walkings, and multiple visits at odd times of the day through his city’s neighborhoods.
These places were necessary. These painted creatures, these monsters as evil he knew somehow could not become a dominant figure of these bucolic scenes but must instead blend into the artwork of everyday comings and goings which surrounded them.. These fictional purveyors of darkness were meant to become an integral part of the scene, not the scene stealers themselves. Stealthily creeping into their portraits, ready to strike yet camouflaged by there subtlety. Thus allowing their impending attack to seem all the more fearsome as a result.
Except now these beasts were gone,all of them. Disappearing not into the scenery but instead with it. Not removed from the linen that supported them, no, that maybe would be understandable. Instead these were the exact same canvases that he had left last night. Then they were completed, ready to be shown at the national opening next week. Except now the canvases were blank. As if they had been washed away in the torrential rain which currently splashed against his studio windows dripping into the harbor below.
He took a step closer to his art, wondering how this could have happened. The paints were the same quality he had always used. And even if the the disappearance was part of some chemical irregularity, a few of his masterpieces had been done over six months ago, any of these issues surely would have surfaced before now. He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated and puzzled at this sudden turn of events.
Which was when he noticed it. The blue drips of paint on the floor. Drips which were the exact same color he had used yesterday to finish the harbor scene. The painting with the ships which had sprawled before his studio window. Except in his mind’s eye, there was a Kraken there as well. Not the whole beast but a tentacle slowly climbing up one side of a cargo ship. The creature in his painting, slowly making his presence known, captured in time before it devoured it’s noon day meal.
A fear rose in the painter’s soul as he followed the trail of blue paint spatters up the wall to a formerly closed window. He knew now how the sea serpent had escaped. In fact how they had all escaped. Taking their surrounding scenery with them, to use as a map of sorts to find the place they fit in this city on their vengeful quest to bring his realism to life.
He grabbed his coat and began to leave his studio,to stop what he knew was to come, when he heard the horn of a cargo ship entering the harbor. Looking out the window he saw the tentacle slowly emerging, waving at him almost. He knew the time to do something was past. His realism was about to come to life in an art show of horrifying proportions.