Poster for the 2023 film with the title in gold at the bottom below a picture of a woman standing in front of a man who seems to be reaching out from a painting

637) The Portrait (2023)

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Apparently, he REALLY hates this portrait and wants it removed immediately! So make sure this image does NOT get reposted or used for any nefarious purpose. If you do, you must be a terrorist! #ThePortrait #SoreSpot #Fatrump

We look forward to 2025, a year that has so many 25th anniversaries to be celebrated in #London. Thanks @londonpartners for hosting an impressive #londonrooftop networking event at #theportrait @NPGLondon where plans for the #londoneconomy where unveiled
#pr #growth #fpa #2025

Unlike Miriam, the portrait would not be confined. It graced the space above her desk in the many studies she retreated to each evening, every study. It did not care how often she tore it from the walls and stuffed it into closet after closet, and in the fruit cellar, and the garden shed—or even at the bottom of the pond. The portrait returned. Always it returned, unmarred by her efforts, and Miriam swore its expression changed when it did. It was slight, as all her aunt’s had been, but it smirked. It held the ghost of a grin that pulled at the edges of those cruel lips.  Miriam gave up on hiding it and, after stopping attendant after attendant on their monthly visit, she had to give up finding answers as well. When they answered, if they answered at all, they repeated the same pacifying nonsense. She asked, she begged, she fell to her knees in desperation and wept. Still they repeated, “It is only nerves, miss, have a lie down and I’ll send for more tea.”

#horror #snips 5/5 is from #theportrait, a #historicalhorror #shortstory about a woman terrorized by a painting.

Unlike Miriam, the portrait would not be confined. It graced the space above her desk in the many studies she retreated to each evening, every study. It did not care how often she tore it from the walls and stuffed it into closet after closet, and in the fruit cellar, and the garden shed—or even at the bottom of the pond. The portrait returned. Always it returned, unmarred by her efforts, and Miriam swore its expression changed when it did. It was slight, as all her aunt’s had been, but it smirked. It held the ghost of a grin that pulled at the edges of those cruel lips.

Here's a bit of The Portrait, which is the last one and so I am done being a bother now. =P
#horror #shortstory #theportrait