Feb 9th – Pixilated paintings (2)

 

pix·​i·​lat·​ed | \ ˈpik-sə-ˌlā-təd  \

variants: or less commonly pixillated

Definition of pixilated

1 : somewhat unbalanced mentally

also : BEMUSED

2 : WHIMSICAL

pixilated pleasures

 

February 11th – Pixilated Paintings (2)

12.45-12.55

It drove the gallery staff mad.

No matter how often they tried, and they tried, every morning, when they opened the Baroque room, every single painting was askew. Every single one. Never in the same direction, and never by the same degree, all of the pictures were misaligned. Every morning, without fail, since the museum had moved into the new building in 2007.

At first, they thought it was the walls. The pictures were taken down, the walls checked. Nothing. The walls were sound. The mountings on the paintings were replaced, the paintings hung back up, straightened.

By morning, the slanting had returned.

The paintings were taken down again, the walls measured with lasers, probes inserted. Nothing. They were good, solid walls. The paintings were replaced. With the same result.

Cameras were installed in the corners of the room, giving a complete picture. Full coverage. In the morning, the cameras as well as the pictures were skewed. The museum staff reviewed the footage from the previous night: nothing. From the closing of the door until they came in the next morning, nothing had moved. Nothing had changed. The picture on the monitor showed the same paintings in the same place. Except that, when they opened the door, that was clearly not the case.

The paintings were taken down again, the room re-examined. The walls, the floor, the ceiling: all were sound. They could find no explanation for the Pixilated Paintings, as the museum director had started to call them.

The paintings were remounted, and this time screwed into the wall: modern brackets fixed to antique frames to try to solve the problem. The cameras, watched diligently all night, showed nothing. In the morning, again, the paintings were misaligned. Misaligned, but still screwed into the walls. The screws, fixings, plugs; everything had moved. There was no trace of the original holes.

Desperate measures needed to be taken. The paintings were taken down again while the holes were filled. A psychic was consulted, who declared an imbalance in the room, and charged an imbalanced fee. They took her advice, let her perform a cleansing, hung the paintings back up.

The next morning was just the same.

At a loss, the museum director decided to sleep in the room. He prepared himself, kitted himself out with supplies, checked the cameras himself before settling on the camp bed in the middle of the room.

He waited. Nothing happened.

Sometime around 2am, he fell asleep. He slept peacefully until he was awakened the next morning by his staff entering the room. Raised himself from the bed and stood to greet them, registering with some surprise the paintings still straight on the wall.

Then he fell over.

He tried to stand, and fell over again.

A quick examination revealed the source. His left leg was now six inches shorter than his right.

 

Inspired by a prompt from here

 

 

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