The Renfield Syndrome by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 18

Sometime later, Caspian found himself staring at the painting. At first it was out of interest in what he had created, but as time passed, he found himself standing in front of it for hours, staring at the red eyes that seemed to be glaring back at him. In his mind they seemed to be coming to life. He became agitated as wild thoughts raced through his mind. Then, one morning, a voice whispered from the dried paint and canvas. Caspian thought he was dreaming, as it was early in the morning and he had just risen from a troubled sleep. At first, he ignored it. It was just a whisper after all, or so it seemed. Yet, every time he passed it, he heard the same whisper. He considered a logical explanation first. The days were getting cold and windy; perhaps it was just that—the changing of the seasons. And the walls seemed fairly thin and let in any sound that struck the side of the house. Yes, that had to be it. Caspian took a deep breath of relief, having convinced himself that he was not losing his mind. This would soon change.