For a time, the painting appears to be just that: a beautiful little blonde girl in a field of yellow flowers. There's something magical about the painting, for certain, but its as if something is keeping her from moving and speaking the same way that magical paintings are known to do.
Perhaps it is because she was not of the same world.
But somehow, her painting disappeared from her father's gallery. The painter's magnum opus gone, lost to time, and to the rest of the dimension--from the one the painting had called home, to the one Mary herself had been trapped in. For her, it had felt like waking from a terrible nightmare. One where she'd faded into darkness, and nobody was there to save her, no matter how hard she cried...
And then she's tumbling out of her frame as if pushed from behind, landing hard on an unfamiliar surface. Her painting is now just a field of flowers, and she outside of it...but this isn't the world of the gallery that she was used to. It was bright, and the home she was in was a real one, not just lines on a floor that she had drawn out herself to imitate walls and doors and windows. Her small mouth is agape as she runs to a window, peering outside of it. She can see a whole forest out there, with light peeking through the branches of the trees! She can hear the sound of the wildlife. Out...she wants out!
Without stopping to explore the home she's in further, the girl is flinging open the rustic window and trying to crawl out of it.
Mary Wakes
Perhaps it is because she was not of the same world.
But somehow, her painting disappeared from her father's gallery. The painter's magnum opus gone, lost to time, and to the rest of the dimension--from the one the painting had called home, to the one Mary herself had been trapped in. For her, it had felt like waking from a terrible nightmare. One where she'd faded into darkness, and nobody was there to save her, no matter how hard she cried...
And then she's tumbling out of her frame as if pushed from behind, landing hard on an unfamiliar surface. Her painting is now just a field of flowers, and she outside of it...but this isn't the world of the gallery that she was used to. It was bright, and the home she was in was a real one, not just lines on a floor that she had drawn out herself to imitate walls and doors and windows. Her small mouth is agape as she runs to a window, peering outside of it. She can see a whole forest out there, with light peeking through the branches of the trees! She can hear the sound of the wildlife. Out...she wants out!
Without stopping to explore the home she's in further, the girl is flinging open the rustic window and trying to crawl out of it.
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