| rdfs:comment | - I recently felt very inspired by the picture known as dog smile, and I felt like painting my own version of it.Let me start by saying that there are more possible factors in my story then just the recreation, but it started the worst of it. My house has always had possible supernatural activity, but nothing big and nothing aggressive or threatening. Just simple things like the sound of foot steps and something being dragged, voices, and my sister swears she saw a floating face one night. Though spooky, nothing we felt to be entirely evil.
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| abstract | - I recently felt very inspired by the picture known as dog smile, and I felt like painting my own version of it.Let me start by saying that there are more possible factors in my story then just the recreation, but it started the worst of it. My house has always had possible supernatural activity, but nothing big and nothing aggressive or threatening. Just simple things like the sound of foot steps and something being dragged, voices, and my sister swears she saw a floating face one night. Though spooky, nothing we felt to be entirely evil. Then one night about a week ago I started painting on my version of Smile.jpg. In the painting I needed something that looked dingy and almost as if the paint was dried up. I do not say this next part to sound dark or emo or anything, its just the best way I can get that effect I believe. I cut my hand and mixed my blood with the paint I was going to use as a filter on top. I am part Native American and in their belief, and most religions actually, blood contains the power of a soul. Blood denotes life, and therefore you are to never share or take blood in fear of mixing ones soul. I am never one to be that superstitious, and I have done it to a handful of paintings before this. I won't be doing that anymore. I finished the painting around one in the morning, and put it above my closet door. That night I woke up twice to a low rumbling noise, almost as if a large dog was growling beside my bed. Being the chicken I am, I remained in my bed and didn't move. The noise would only last around five to seven seconds, and I passed it off as possibly the heater had some issue and caused it to rumble at the moment. The next two nights the same noise happened, each night it became more frequent. On the third night I saw the dogs eyes inches from my face, and then they disappeared. I told myself it was a dream caused by the placebo effect of me worrying that the painting was behind it all. The next night the eyes showed up again, but the smile was there as well. This time a low braying sound was barely audible. The fifth night was when I knew it wasn't all in my mind. I slept all night without being woken by the noise or anything, that is until four in the morning. It all happened in a flash, yet I can still see it in my mind perfectly, the memories are making my hands shake as I type this. As I lay in bed asleep, I hear a loud noise, like wood snapping and a roar. My eyes bursted open to see what looked like a black wolf pouncing upon me. As the creature touched me it seemed to evaporate into thin air, and my chest was filled with pain. As I looked down I saw where the pain came from. My chest now has three large gashes down it, but oddly enough there was never a drop of blood that came from it. It was easily deep enough to bleed, but it stung as if a burn instead of a cut. I didn't know what to do, I was scared and didn't want to be with the painting anymore. I ran from my house and drove to my friends house at four in the morning. He still doesn't believe me about it, says I did it to myself to try and scare him. No one really believes me, and I doubt I would if it hadn't happened to me. The painting is now in my shed. I was going to burn it or throw it away, but I have an old friend who is a preacher coming down in a week to check it out first. I have been in the shed only once since I locked it away in there, and it felt as if I was being watched. The air felt thick and I got nauseous when I was in their with the painting. Now I am just waiting to be rid of it, but I fear the memories will never leave me.
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