Spooked - Weeping Painting - Classic

Episode Date: March 27, 2026

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. Check out more of Leonel Garza’s voice acting work. Produced by Erick Yáñez, original score by Nicholas Marks, artwork by Teo Ducot.  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 expression art. Let me tell you a story.

A story about Omar, he loves his grandma. Soon he was 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 didn't mind. He loved to look around and her treasures laying all around the house, playing in the backyard, swing in her hammock to 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 mean imagine, there was something else visiting Grandma's house that summer. It was a day quateria. Entree to the abitation of my

old was looking something. I think it was a corta-u-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. Creams, perfumes, perfumes,

moumequitos, rag dolls. 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 can percater that there was a picture. 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. 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 blueza red. She's wearing a green blouse, and her hair is tied. 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 picture I sensed this I sensed 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. I'm surprised to hear that. I'm expecting a... I want it to be somebody else. She tells me that the portrait had been a gift from her father for her 15 years.

Looking at the photo again, I guess... 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 scares me. Recurred that a certain day I was I in the kitchen. So I'm in the kitchen one evening. around 7 p.m. I'm pouring myself a glass of water when I start to hear a woman sob.

A soft, but audible sob. So first I'm like it's grandma. It's coming from her room. So I walked 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 a portrait.

The woman is in the same position. The only that brilliabes were the eyes. 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, me recorre a sclerofrio. A shiver runs down my spine. It's like, no. This is like, no, this is definitely not normal. I'm just way too over. I was 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... "'Awela, 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, How will be you beurand the retratio? What do you mean the portrait is crying, myho? Yes, grandma. I'm telling you the portrait is crying. She grabs me by the arm and says, Ben, accompany. 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 agarra the quadro? She just grabs it from the wall and takes it down. And he put it against her body like if he was abrason? Then she presses it against her chest as if she's hugging it. It almost seems as if she's trying 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, 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 having dinner. 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. Doña Carmen says Elena, are you okay? My grandma is surprised and says

Yes, why shouldn't I be? Doña Carmen tells her What the past is that She's a person that's hearing 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, No, no. No, no.

No, no. No, no. I didn't see or hear anything. 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. It was there where I said, oh, no, it's where I think, no way. This is happening again? There's crying, 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 next, I'm just sitting at least to do. I was basically, yeah, I'm ready to do with 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. It was very obscure, no there was luna. 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 opened 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 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. 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, no idea if a person alive me'd have more fear than 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. And I hear the gritty, I see the y'all

The weeping now turns into wailing. I turn my head to the place where the sound is coming from. And that's when 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 her presence. She's about 15 meters away

and she's wearing a long, old-fashioned dress. She's a real-fashioned dress. Her skin is very pale and she has long strands of messy hair. 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. I remember that his hands were large, Her fingers are so long and thin. I'm petrified. I literally can't move. Volteo his face to me. Then she turns her face towards me.

In between the 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 was a mirada, penetrante,

It's the 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 Dona Carmen. Something must have happened to her. It's not Dona Carmen. I know who Dona Carmen is. And that person wasn't Dona Carmen.

So my grandma calls Zona Carmen on the phone. Oh yeah, Carmen, my nieto, he said that he saw you crying. Hey, Carmen, my grandson says he saw you crying. Are you okay? Doña 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, I said, oh, my soniast. 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. I started to hear, like when the perrits, rasked the door that 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.

That thing, the woman, is now inside the house. The bedroom door is open, and she's scratching it with one of her fingers. Tocada the door, rasked, rascab, rascar, rascar. Scratching, scratching, scratching. She's like five meters away. And it was my abuela. 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 my grandma up, but I can't breathe and scream. This person or presence, 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 thing is to take her Bible and starts praying. Then 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 reading.

I'm still frozen. I can't move. My abuela so he gets out of the bed and run 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 I'm seeing. Then the crying gradually turns into this. laugh, a very, 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... Puff.

She's just appears. 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, Mejo, no te preoccupies, his, he ho, d'allie. Don't worry, son. What can't touch us, can't harm us.

And then she's like, I'm going to have a cup of coffee, my son. 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 could 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 end 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 that if I'd

open to look at this person. I felt that if I closed my eyes and opened them again, I would see her. Now as an adult, I still think about this 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 not all right, my Godra. Don't worry, my son. 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 know very little of my abuela 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 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'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. for me that 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 Yanyes 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 know. 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 podcast. It's called Snap Judgment, and it is storytelling. Spook was created by the team that knows exactly where they are. 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, tail de cot, Marissa Dodge, Zoe Ferigno, Ann Ford, Eric Yannias, Cody Harjo,

Lola Abrera, Doug Stewart, Miles Lassie, Yari Bundy. The spook theme song is by Pat McShee Miller. My name is Gunn, Washington. And just like we love, to make pretend that 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 never ever