Spooked - Weeping Painting

Episode Date: May 26, 2023

Omar thinks he know his grandma. Until one day, he finds a scary portrait in her bedroom… and it’s looking at him. Thank you Omar for sharing your story with Spooked, all the way from Mexico! Leonel Garza gave Omar his voice in English. You can check out more of Leonel Garza’s acting work on his website. Produced by Erick Yáñez, original score by Nicholas Marks, artwork by Teo Ducot Episodes now drop weekly. Featuring brand new stories -- along with episodes previously available only by subscription. Listen for free wherever you get your podcasts! Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

I placed the picture in the book and gave it to the friar. When he took it to the church, I lit the place on fire. The constable who locked me up asked why did I conspire? Because the picture tells me what to do. That's why I lit the fire. You listen to Spooked. Stay to a painter. Exactly.

But I dabble with. AI artificial intelligence painting programs and with them, crazy as it sounds, I can make some passable work. Should I say, I can direct the program to make some passable work? You want Homer Simpson in the style of Baskillat? I can do that. Flying monkeys as if painted by Cazahn, no problem. And then just last week, in the middle of the night, a notion plods me awake, a notion demanding I create a deck of tarot cards,

a deck that's anchored by new manifestations of old gods. I tell the idea to wait till morning, but the screen grows louder. Until finally, I pull myself out of bed, sit down, and begin with the oriches of Suntaria, show themselves reflections of African spirits Ogun, Chango, Osun, and I asked this computer program, this algorithm, to reimagine the gods that made their way to this world through the middle passage, through slaveholds, across oceans, gods that changed this new world and were changed by it.

Remake them, combine them, remix them, and I know, I know this is blasphemy of the highest order, but in a few seconds, in just a few seconds, in just a few seconds the algorithm shows me the first completed painting of my newly realized God I see a powerful

face staring back at me defiantly, proudly the portrayal is alive, amazing it's shocking even but somehow not quite right so

I delete this God and I try to again and again and again murdering gods with abandon until one figure calls to me. Eyes challenging and playful feathers woven into her robe braided Locke's crowned with gold complicated. She dances over a tightrope dividing both good and evil. I don't have a name yet, but I know she will be my first card. Over the course of the night, spinning, correcting, cursing the algorithm, I create the rest of her company.

Hundreds of her brethren don't make it. Maybe I don't like their wings. Their halos, their eyes, their tails. Maybe one looks too much like me. And we absolutely can't have that. No, no. But finally, my grouping of new gods lies complete. some happy, some angry, some trixie, some serene.

But all of them supremely satisfied in who they are. Looking back confident as if they made me instead of the other way around. Help but wonder. Spook starts. 12 years old and summer arrived. He didn't think twice and went to her place. One of those houses with no toilet inside, an outhouse in the yard. Omar did mind

He loved to look around And her treasures laying all around the house Played in the backyard Swing in her hammock The cool off The hot weather of Mexicali Baja California It sounds like

You know this is some close Grandma grandson quality time right Well As you may imagine There was something else Visiting Grandma's house that summer It was a day I went to my

abyssed my wettation of my waila looking something. I'm a short-a-unas. One summer

day like any other day, I go to my grandma's bedroom to look for a nail clipper. I'm rummaging

through all of her stuff. Cremas. Perfumes. Perfumes. Munequitos. Ragdolls. Of a

repente, I sent a, I don't know how to describe it a lot. And suddenly

I feel some kind of, I don't know how to describe it. Some kind of energy? As if someone is staring at me. I'm compelled to look up. When I do, I see this painting. I don't know if the painting has always been there,

but it's the first time I'm seeing it. The retractor was of a young woman. It's an oil canvas portrait of a young woman. who looks a little bit older than me. It's painted so well that it looks like a photograph. She's wearing a green blouse, and her hair is tied in a bun. The woman is facing forward, and I feel as if she has her eyes fixed on me.

It doesn't feel like an optical illusion. The painting is actually staring at me. It's not moving. It's more of a feeling. The quadro emanaba, emanate a certain, a certain, I sense this sadness.

I see it in her eyes. But she's smiling in this way that doesn't feel natural. Like she's faking it. Almost like an upside down smile. From then on, every time I step into Grandma's room, I can feel. this strange heaviness.

As if someone doesn't want me inside. One day I finally asked my grandma, Who is the girl in the portrait? And my grandma tells me it's her when she was 15. The fact was surprised to hear that. I'm expecting I wanted to be somebody else. She tells us. me that the portrait had been a gift from her father for her 15 years.

Looking at the photo again? I guess, yeah. The young woman has my grandma's features, similar head shape and hairstyle. She still uses a hair bun, but I still feel weird about it all. I mean, my grandma looks great in the portrait, but she also looks kind of spooky. But since we got to respect our elders, I don't tell grandma that the portrait. I don't tell grandma that the Richard scares me. Recurdo that certain

day I'm in the kitchen one evening. It's around 7 p.m. I'm

pouring myself a glass of water when I start to hear a woman sob. A soyos

very very levy, but audible. A soft but audible sob.

So first I'm like it's grandma. It's coming from her room. So I walk down

to the hall to her door. As I'm turning the handle, I can still hear the sobbing. But as I step inside, it stops. What's going on? My grandma's not here. This makes no sense. That's when I noticed the portrait. The woman is in the same position. The only that were But her eyes have this watery glow. Even though I'm standing a few feet away, I can see it clearly. The woman's eyes are shining as if she has been crying.

They're tears. They're definitely tears. I recorre a, me recorre a scalo frio. A shiver. runs down my spine. This is like, no, this is definitely not normal. I'm just

way too overwhelmed. So I take two steps back and close the door. I quickly look for my grandma. She's out in the backyard watering her plants. I run up to her and tell her... Abuela,

your retrato is crying. Grandma, your portrait is crying. And she just gives me this stare. She looks concerned, but also somehow relieved. I don't know how to really explain it. She tells me, What do you mean the portrait is crying, my ho? Yes, grandma, I'm telling you the portrait is crying. She grabs me by the arm and says, Come with me. We step into the house and go to her room.

She looks at the portrait. She doesn't say a word. And she takes the quadro? She just grabs it from the wall and takes it down. Then she presses it against her chest as if she's hugging it. It almost seems as if she's trying to. to prevent the portrait from looking around. Then Grandma steps out of the house with the portrait

and goes to the backyard patio where she has her washing machine and dryer. Underneath the patio roof, there's a shelf and that's where she puts the painting. She then tells me, don't worry, Miko. I don't like the painting that much anyway. Then she just grabs the garden hose

and keeps watering the plants as if nothing happened. I'm like, if grandma, knows what to do, I guess everything's fine. So I don't ask any questions. I don't feel like talking and I don't want to be called irrational or silly. After that, everything seems to quiet down and honestly, I just kind of forget about it. I keep going out to the backyard during the day to play and nothing happens until three nights later. We're not going on. Tocall the door. Tocall the door. My

abuela he abe we're having dinner when we hear a

knock at the front door my grandma opens the door and it's

Doña Carmen my grandma's neighbor Doha Carmen says Elena

You're okay? Elena Are you okay? My grandma is surprised

and says Yes why I shouldn't I be? Yes,

why shouldn't I be? Doña Carmen tells her What the What the part is that He says She's a person

She's a little The thing is I just heard someone crying In your backyard And I thought it was you I thought something had happened To you or your children So my grandma

gets my uncle Who was living with her At the time To go out into the yard And investigate The rest of us stay inside At this point I'm thinking

Yeah, there probably is a real person who is crying for whatever reason. That seems logical. But then my uncle comes back and says, I don't, say, no, no, no, no is nothing, or maybe it's coming from somewhere else. Maybe it was some music or something. But it's definitely not from here. But Dona Carmen replies, someone was crying. I heard it.

where I said I said, oh, no, it's when I think, no way. This is happening again? It's a shunuching, but there's nothing. There's crying, but then there's nothing. But this time it's not me who's hearing it. It's the neighbors. I feel goosebumps running down my spine, but I don't say anything to anyone. To the night

I was I was basically yeah I'm ready to do the following night it's late

I'm in bed and just about to fall asleep but I really really need to go to the bathroom but at the same time I'm scared

to go outside I have to walk across the whole backyard past all these trees and plants then finally get to the outhouse

right next to the fence that divides the yard from the neighbors. My uncle is still awake, so I ask him if he can go with me. He says, okay. The night is very dark. The night is very dark. No moon, no animals or nature sounds, no dogs.

We walk across the backyard and get to the outhouse. I open the door, go in, and close the door. I start doing my business. I can hear my uncle right outside lighting up a cigarette and smoking. Then suddenly he tells me. You know what? Do you remember when Doña Carmen showed up and asked my mom if everything was okay? And then I had to go outside and check?

I said, yes, but you didn't see anything. I said, yes, but you didn't see him. anything. He says no. Actually, the thing is that I did see something or someone under the lemon trees. I saw two holes in the dirt as if someone was kneeling down. I don't know if he's telling this to scare me or if he's telling the truth. But my first thought is, well, then this has got to be an actual person who was in our backyard last night. So, I don't know if a person A person alive, me'd more fear

Or a spirit. And then I think, I don't actually know if a living person is scarier than a spirit. My uncle tells me, I'm going inside real quick. I'm just going to get another cigarette. I say, okay. But do it quickly.

I don't want to be here alone. I hear his steps on the dirt and dry leaves. I can hear the house door open and close. Not even 30 seconds pass When I start to hear like Muffled steps Someone's dragging their feet outside the outhouse It's definitely not my uncle

Suddenly I hear the crying again It's a woman It's coming from the backyard Unlike the sobs I heard in grandma's room Now It's a loud weeping It's very heartbreaking My hands start sweating

I stop what I'm doing. Somehow I wipe myself, pull up my underwear, and come out of the outhouse with my pants still around my ankles, dragging on the ground. I start running across the yard to my grandma's house. That's when I see something moving among the lemon trees. And I hear the yell, like, as I hear the weeping now turns into wailing. I turn my head to the place where the sound is coming from.

And that's where I see her for the first time. I don't see it as a woman, a presence. I don't know whether to describe her as a lady, a woman, or a presence. She's about 15 meters away and she's wearing a long, old-fashioned dress. She had the skin very, very blank. Her skin is very pale and she has long, long, strands of messy hair. Kneeling on the ground.

Her hands are covering her face. She's hunched over as if she has been in the same position for a long time. Eh, I recall that those hands were large, the fingers are so long and thin. I'm petrified. I literally can't move. Volteo his face towards me.

Then she turns her face towards me. In between the strands of her strands of her. strands of her hair, I can see her eyes. That's when I realized that those eyes are the very same eyes in the portrait. There's no doubt about it. I just know. It's a same gaze. That strong penetrating stare, but this time it's no longer full of sadness. It's brimming with hate. Somehow I break through this trance. I run towards the house and when I open the door, my uncle is in the hallway. He was just about to come out. At that moment, I feel that if I tell my uncle what I just saw, he won't believe me. In the back of my mind, I'm thinking grandma would

better understand what's going on. So I run to my grandma's room. I'm almost in tears. I say, Grandma, I just saw a lady crying. She tells me, Maybe it's Doña Carmen. Something must have happened to her. It's not Doña Carmen. I know who Doña Carmen is. And that person wasn't Doña Carmen.

So my grandma calls Doña Carmen on the phone. Oh yeah, my nephew, he said that he saw you crying. Hey, Carmen, my grandson says he saw you crying. Are you okay? Carmen says, no, Elena, I haven't left the house at all. I've been asleep for hours. My grandma tells me, oh, my son, my soni.

Well, maybe you dreamed it. No, grandma, I didn't dream about it. You can't dream this up. I'm terrified. I tell my grandma to let me sleep with her that night. I don't want to sleep alone. So she lays a folding bed next to her. own bed for me. I'm trying to shut my eyes and fall asleep. But I still feel like I'm in danger.

I don't know how, but I finally managed to fall asleep. But then I wake up. It's probably around 3.30 or 4 a.m. Everyone is asleep. But I noticed that the motion detector lamp in the hallway, it's on. Something or someone is out there. Rasked the door that they want to hear a sound like when dogs scratch the door when they want to go out. It sounds like nails scratching on the bedroom door. I'm sitting in the camera. Now I sit up in my bed.

Then I turned my head to the right towards the door. There's the ent. That thing, the woman, is now inside the house. The bedroom door is open and she's scratching. it with one of her fingers. Scratchy, scratching, scratching, scratching. She's like five meters away. This thing looks like my grandma.

Or at least when she was younger. Her face is upset and angry. She's giving me this cold stare. I want to wake to my abuela. I want to wake up. my grandma up, but I can't breathe. I've never been this scared. This person or presence, does a pass to inside of the

room. And then this woman, or thing, takes a step into the room. I try waking grandma up. I use my arm and tap on her chest. She finally wakes up. And the first is take your Bible and start to orar. Then she grabs her Bible and starts praying. She doesn't scream. She doesn't seem scared.

She just reads and prays. This thing covers its ears with both hands. Then it makes a sign over its mouth with its long, skinny finger. Then it starts like sliding through the hallway, back towards the door, towards the exit. It disappears into the distance while my grandma keeps screaming. I'm still frozen. I can't move. My abuela

and go right after her. Then my grandma gets out of the bed and runs after her. I don't know if it's out of fear or courage, but I also get up and go out. I don't want to be alone in that room. We go to where the lemon trees are. And this woman is now lying on the ground. Her hands are covering her face.

She's crying. again. I can't believe what was what was going what's what's what's

what's going. I can't believe what I'm seeing. Then the crying

gradually turns into this laugh very sinister laugh as if

my grandma's prayers and efforts aren't working then

all of a sudden the woman lifts her arms up and stretches them

backwards as if she's bending and throwing her head back and just

like that She disappears. She disappears. We don't see anything. It's all quiet now. We can hear the dogs in the distance barking at nothing. I hug my grandma and she says... Don't worry, son.

What can't touch us, can't harm us. What can't touch us, can't harm us. And then she says, He's like, I'm going to have a cup of coffee, Miko. Don't you want one? Come on. Let's go inside.

We go straight to the kitchen. The sun's now coming up. We sit in silence at the dining table. I'm unable to talk. I'm stirring my coffee, trying to eat some cookies. No, no, I don't understand how my grandma is so calm. I don't understand how my grandma is so calm. But if she's so calm, I feel like I need to be calm too.

The next day, I grab and pack a few clothes I have with me. I want to go back home to my parents. I tell my grandma that I'd better go home. All she says is... It's okay. It's okay. She doesn't say anything else. She just goes, it's okay, son.

You can come back anytime, you know? But I don't. I ended up spending the rest of the summer with my parents. Even then, there were so many nights where I couldn't fall asleep. I felt I felt that if I closed my eyes and opened them again, I would see her. Now as an adult, I still think about the story a lot. My grandma clearly knew how to deal with the whole situation, and that's why she was so calm about everything.

Maybe there was more to the portrait, more to this story, but she wouldn't tell me. Even 20 years later, she won't tell me a thing. I'll be drinking coffee with her in the very same living room. I'll ask her about that night and the portrait, and she just says, No you're just saying, don't worry, you know, all right?

my, my hie, it's all right now. Just forget about it. Maybe she wants to forget those memories, or maybe she is still trying to protect me. I don't really know anything about her when she was young. What if she was a witch?

Maybe the artist imprinted it with something evil. Even then, I know that my grandma will never get rid of, of it because it means a lot to her. Maybe things are better left as they are. Not too long ago, I was talking to my uncle and he told me that Grandma still has the painting. Apparently, she wrapped it in black plastic and relocated it to the very back of the backyard

inside the storage warehouse. And until the fecha, I know that that quadro is there. That's where the painting lives. even until this day. And it will probably never come out again. The image of that woman covering its ears and telling us to stop praying still haunts me to this day. That thing doesn't need our help.

Thank you, Omar, for sharing your story with Spook all the way from Mexico. Lionel Garza gave Omar his voice in English, The original score for the story is from Nicholas Marks. The story is produced by Story Scout and Story Producer. Eric, Yanyas. I have a question for you. Do you have a connection with another person that cannot be explained?

Do you see through someone else's eyes? Can you feel the burden someone else carries? Maybe your twin, your cousin, your friend, maybe even your enemy? Do you share a bond that defies the laws of what is supposed to be? Maybe you don't feel you can tell anyone because no one will understand. Well, tell me, there's nothing better than a spook story from a spooked listener. Spooked at snapjudgment.org. And the best way to signal not just the dark side, but the spook community in the note.

The best way to signal them is by sporting the spook t-shirt of your very own. Nothing sexier in all the land available right now at snapjudgment.org. And if you like your storytelling Under the bright light of day Get the amazing Stupendous Sister Podcasts. It's called Snap Judgment and it is storytelling with the beat. This book was created by the team

that knows exactly where they are when they wake up in the morning Except of course Mark Ristich You might have to give him a few guesses. There's Davey Kim Chris Hamburg, Leon Morimoto Tale to cop, Marissa Dodge Zoe Ferigno, Ann Ford

Eric Yannius, Cody Harjo Lola Abrera Doug Stewart, Miles Lassie Yari Bundy The spook theme songs by Pat McSilly Miller My name is in Washington And just like we love to Make pretend life is fair

We also love to imagine that The same rules apply No matter where you are No matter who you are, no matter who is there No matter the hour of the day or the time of the year but such a nonsense is for the simple-minded and it's not how the shadow operates because sometimes the supposedly impenetrable barrier

between here and there between what is lost and what is soon to be lost that barrier diminishes to smoke granting one side more power and you can't predict the win the where the why the how all you can do is look it in the face when it comes and that is why everyone I care about never ever ever ever ever