The Mimicking Portrait
The Mimicking Portrait
The Mimicking Portrait
The Mimicking Portrait

The Mimicking Portrait

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Mimicking Portrait<br /><br />

**True story from a customer, Anne Marie.<br /><br />

About 7 years ago, my grandmother bought a copy of the painting of Mona Lisa. <br /><br />

She had it hung on the wall of one of the rooms in her house. It was beautiful, just like the original. My mother and I stared at it for a long time. It seemed to communicate with us somehow. I can't explain it.<br /><br />

A year later, my mother died and I became very lonely. I was 18, and didn't want to stay alone, so I moved into my grandmother's place. My grandmother gave me the room which had the Mona Lisa painting hanging on the wall.<br /><br />

The first night, I laid in bed and stared at the painting for a long time. The longer I stared at it, the creepier her smile became...her smile seemed to widen. I shook with horror when I saw it. I quickly turned on my side and placed a pillow over my head. I began to pray. I don't know how long I prayed. I guess until I fell asleep.<br /><br />

Every night, I faced the Mona Lisa; the wall was just a few feet from the foot of my bed. I got used to her and her frightening smile, and soon was able to sleep soundly even with her staring at me.<br /><br />

But one particular night, things changed...I heard something. There were words coming out of the painting. “Anne, my Anne.” It said. My eyes just opened wide, and I felt a cold tingling sensation run up my spine.<br /><br />

I quickly rushed out of bed and ran out of the room. My grandmother was sound asleep. I didn't want to wake her up so I sat on the sofa in the living room. I thought about the words that I heard and convinced myself that they were my own imagination. Reluctantly, I walked back to my room and jumped into bed without looking at the Mona Lisa. I pulled the sheets up and covered my face. I prayed, and prayed until I fell asleep.<br /><br />

In the morning, I told my grandmother about it, but she didn't believe me. I didn't have a choice but to convince myself that it was all a dream. Almost every night for eight months I heard the same thing—“Anne, my Anne.”<br /><br />

I was very scared that I slept with the light turned on. As time went on, I got quite used to it. I became bold enough that one night at one o'clock I walked straight up to the painting and asked, “What do you want?” <br /><br />

I felt empowered by my new found boldness that I shouted at her. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Suddenly, I noticed something glistening at her left eye. I looked closer and was shocked to see a tear forming. It rolled down her cheek, as if she was crying. I couldn't believe it! It was then that I realized this painting was indeed haunted.<br /><br />

I had been engulfed with fear for too long and decided to get some help. I looked in the newspaper for a psychic. I saw an advert of a psychic who was practicing near my town, her name was Deedee. I called her...she sounded friendly and “normal” so I made an appointment to meet her in two days' time.<br /><br />

I was afraid to enter the shop. It looked a bit eerie, which disturbed me a little. I was about to turn away from the door when I saw a figure move at the window. Deedee was standing behind the glass window and beckoned me to come in. She looked friendly enough, so my fears faded, and I walked to the door.<br /><br />

She introduced herself. “Hi, I'm Deedee. Don't be afraid, Anne Marie.”<br /><br />

I was shocked. How did she know my name was Anne Marie? I remember introducing myself on the phone as only Anne.<br /><br />

“I sense things, you know? That's why I know you were standing outside and was afraid to come in. And I know your name is Anne Marie because…er, well, that was a wild guess.” She said with a calm smile.<br /><br />

I didn't say anything, just smiled and walked in. She offered me tea, which I gladly accepted. I took two sips and looked around the house. It was warm and cozy; nothing like the eerie outside.<br /><br />

“So, what is bothering you?” she asked.<br /><br />

I paused for a moment because I really didn't know how to begin. I put my cup down on the table and looked up at her. I thought I would just say it like it is, so I told her everything that had happened—from the beginning to the end. She listened and nodded without saying a single word.<br /><br />

I waited for her to say something but she didn't; she simply looked at me as if I had just made up a story. Then, she asked me if somebody in my family had recently died. I said, “Yes, my mom.” She said the voices I was hearing could be me my mom's.<br /><br />

Deedee took out some crystals; they were of many different colors and were beautiful. She tossed them on the table top and looked at the precarious arrangement with deep concentration. I looked at her, wondering what she saw. When she looked up, she sighed. “You have to discard the painting.” She said.<br /><br />

I thought for a moment about my grandmother. She loved the painting and I was sure she wouldn't let me just throw the painting away.<br /><br />

“You mother's soul is not in peace. Is it true that whenever you looked at the painting, you think of your mother?” Deedee asked.<br /><br />

I realized she was right. I did always think of my mom because when I saw the painting for the first time, I saw it with her. I had felt something at the time, but didn't really think much about it. Now I remember, I felt a sudden sadness about my mother as we looked at the Mona Lisa together. I really couldn't explain why, but I did.<br /><br />

I asked Deedee if she could tell me why I felt that way? She closed her eyes and touched the crystals with both palms and took two deep breaths. When she opened her eyes, she looked at me and smiled.<br /><br />

“Your mother felt the same thing about you when she saw the Mona Lisa. You both felt the same sadness for each other. Your mother feels she has to protect you from your sadness that's why she has followed you. She is here right now. I can sense her, and I can hear her thoughts.” Deedee said.<br /><br />

I wasn't very happy to hear that; I wanted my mom to go to Heaven and be at peace. I didn't want her hanging around on this earth like all the other lost souls that I kept hearing about.<br /><br />

“Do you want to say something to your mother, Anne?” Deedee asked.<br /><br />

I just burst out crying. “Mom, I love you and I miss you so much, but you must go to Heaven, please. I am fine. I really am.”<br /><br />

There was silence and a sense of peace after I said that. Deedee said nothing; she just looked at me. Our eyes connected, and she came over and hugged me. She said everything was going to be fine.<br /><br />

When I got home, I explained the situation to my grandmother, and surprisingly, she understood.<br /><br />

“I've been having dreams since you started to stay here, Anne. Dreams about your mother. She tells me to take care of you and listen to you. She says you are very lonely, and I believe her.” My grandmother said with a tear rolling down her cheek.<br /><br />

After we got rid of the Mona Lisa, my grandmother never dreamt of my mother again—except occasionally, some happy dreams. I too became a lot happier knowing my mother has gone somewhere she will be happy.<br /><br />

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