Fine print: Monica Davis belongs to me.
Kitty belongs to Marvel entertainment. Don't sue me.
This is purely for entertainment. Again, don't sue me.
If you E-mail me please use the heading "Museum Piece".

Museum Piece
(loosely inspired by a challenge I read somewhere and being asked if I could
write a scary story in a thousand words for Halloween)
by kaz
*****

    "It's beautiful!"  Kitty Pryde exclaimed.
    Her companion was less then appreciative.  The redheaded woman looked at
the piece absently. "It's that."
    "Oh come now, Ms Davis."  Kitty adjusted the portrait on the wall.
"Surely our employers wouldn't pay us top dollar to transport a piece of
junk."
    Monica's brown eyes rolled to the back of her head.  "Our employers, this
time around, are an insurance conglomerate and their associates, who wanted
to make sure the painting got here so they wouldn't have to pay the museum
off.  We were paid top dollar for our discretion.  The fact that I didn't
look at the thing before hand means I couldn't have cared less what it was.
As long as the papers were in order going through customs."
    "Mony, weren't you at least a little interested in what our employers
were paying us to bring over from Thailand?"
    "I'll be glad to be rid of it." Monica's eyes went cloudy.
    Kitty hated when she did this.
    Monica was an enigma to her.  Kitty knew her personality, her
trustworthiness and her intelligence.  But Monica's past was another matter.
The older woman could, quite literally, tell Kitty her entire life story in
about a day.  And no matter what Monica said, Kitty would always forget it.
Like the woman was shrouded in a cloak of the unknown. *A mystery for another
day.*
    Kitty couldn't help thinking that the artist must have had talent.  As
flat and stylized as the image was, it also had a vitality to it. The piece
was a portrait (after a fashion).  A middle-aged woman bathed in moonlight:
dusky skin framed by green dress and blonde hair held up by a metallic
contraption; against a background of trees and stones.  A younger woman 
stood in front of her elder: black hair tied in yellow ribbons; yellow dress
whipping around her as she did a periot.
    On closer inspection, the brush strokes were almost perfectly smooth. As
if someone took a large amounts of time and effort to make the picture look
seamlessly smooth.  The paint was thinned to the point of almost being a
stain.
    *Whoever painted this must have loved them a lot.* Kitty thought
absently. *It's as if they were perfect people caught in a perfect moment.
The rest of us only get to look at the perfection.  It is something we will
never have.*
    Monica lit a blue cigarette.  "I'll be glad to be rid of the thing."
    "Didn't you just say that?" Kitty sighed.  "You know you shouldn't smoke
in here."
    "You were paired with me because you said you didn't mind the smoke...
I wouldn't become too interested in that painting if I was you."
    "Oh, worldly keeper of the Delphic Flame, enlighten me."
    Monica looked at Kitty for a few moments.
    Kitty felt like she was being put under a microscope.  By now, Kitty was
used to this type of examination from Monica.  Monica was the first person
Kitty had really gotten to know after relocating in the Witness Protection
Program.
    The two had been paired together when both of them began to work for The
Delphic Flame Incorporated.  Delphic was an agency specializing in security
systems and (mostly female) bodyguards.
    Monica shook her head as if to get rid of a lingering doubt. "Are you
sure?"
    "Of course."
    "Look straight at the painting and watch."
    Monica blew smoke onto the painting.
    Kitty was transfixed as the image before her started to change.  Red
streams seemed to sprout from the eyes in the painting.  The moon became 
a blazing sun and shadows began to appear on the rocks.  The shadows were
twisted inhuman shades of human despair which appeared to be waiting to pick
the two off.
    Kitty pulled herself away from where she had stood.  "What is . . . ?"
    "The painting is called G'hapsody'.  The only Rhapsody being the name
of the poison the artist used to placate his two victims before posing them 
in that grove.  According to legend the two bled to death from their eyes.
Bled to death while standing perfectly motionless.  Motionless while the
artist painted.  He used their blood to thin the paint. Damn waste of life."
Monica pointed to the women within the painting.  "Interesting the
contraptions the Medieval and Renaissance people used to kill...  this
poison was delivered through the young girl's ribbons and the older women's
hair appliance.  Quite ingenious really."
    "Is what you are saying true?"  Kitty shook her head.
    "Look, kid."  Monica seldom used the expression or talked unnecessarily.
When she did either, Kitty was sure to listen.  "Ay don't mean to go dark
and gloomy on you.  But things aren't always what they seem.  You, me, that
painting.  Ay'll be glad when the curator gets here with the final paperwork."
    "How did you know about the smoke?  That it would affect the painting so?"
    Monica blew smoke on the now hideous image again.  It returned to normal.
"Ran into it before.  Ay freaked the first time a friend did this to me.
Showed me the painting.  Ay freak whenever ay am near it. Probably why ay
been acting spooked since we picked the thing up."
    "So you know about this ... thing?"  Kitty had a feeling she would
remember this conversation with Monica.  It was a small triumph.
    "Started a few wars during the more fanatic moments of Western History,
this thing did.  Ever wonder the real reason behind European conflicts? There
it is. In full color."  Monica pointed at the painting.  "The sooner we are
rid of it, the better."
    Looking back at the picture, Kitty couldn't help but agree.