The Smoke In The Photograph by Kit Tinsley Page B

send button. Steven felt his hair move, as though being attracted by a static charge. He looked around the room, and despite being utterly alone, he felt that he was being watched. The beeping sound of his heart monitor became more frequent as his sudden unease took hold of him. As he breathed out, he saw the faint mist of his breath float away from his mouth.
    DING!
    The bell sound on his phone, and the accompanying vibration made him jump in his bed. He was convinced that for a fleeting moment the waveform on the heart monitor flatlined. He had received a text. He saved the message for Ariel to the drafts in his phone then opened his message folder. What he saw confused him. There was the little sealed envelope icon as normal for an unread text, but next to it on the screen was blank. Even if the text came from a number not stored in his phone, the unknown number would be displayed. It seemed as if this message had come from nowhere.
    He opened up the message and the message on the screen scared him more than the temperature and electricity in the room.
     
    DO NOT SEND THAT MESSAGE!
    H
     
    He couldn't believe it. Someone had to be playing a joke on him. Perhaps they were spying on him right now, and that was why he had the sense of being watched. However, he knew all too well what the H stood for. It was impossible.
    Steven put the phone back in the cabinet beside him, and as soon as he did, the air in the room lost its chill.
    He settled back into his bed, and eventually slipped into an uneasy sleep.
     
     
    Light streamed in through the open curtains. Julia covered her eyes with her arm. Her head was pounding. It reminded her of the hangovers she used to get far too often in her days at university. Last night she had not had a drink though. She had come home from the hospital and had coffee.
    She tried to remember coming to bed. It had been late, of that she was sure. She couldn't remember it at all. The last thing she had any recollection of was setting up her things in the studio. Then what had happened? She struggled to see through the hangover-like fog in her mind. Had she felt ill? There was a vague memory of dizziness.
    She rolled over to Steven's side of the bed. It felt cool and empty. The clock on his bedside table showed that it was already quarter to ten.
    Getting out of bed she grabbed her dressing gown, but was pleased to feel that the house was much warmer than it had been the previous night. She wondered what time they would be releasing Steven from the hospital. She supposed that by now he was kicking up a fuss to leave, telling them he was okay whether he was or not. Often she had wondered how Steven would have handled a patient as awkward as he was.
    She went to the en-suite bathroom and splashed her face with cold water, hoping to clear some of the fog from the previous night. It was then that she noticed her hands were filthy. They were covered in multicoloured marks, ones that she knew very well. They always looked the same after she had done a lengthy session painting.
    It didn't make any sense. She had no memory of painting anything. She supposed it could have come from handling her boxes of art supplies, but doubted it. These were the type of smears and stains that could only be attained by hour after hour of actual painting. She rushed out of the room and up the stairs to the attic.
    She saw it as soon as she got in the room. It was there in the middle of the room, atop the expensive easel her husband had bought her for their first wedding anniversary. A painting of the house, her house. It was her work. She would recognise that anywhere. The brush lines and colour selection were in keeping with her style. The subject matter, however, was totally out of character.
    Julia Draper was an artist renowned for her abstract landscapes, paintings that captured the bleakness and beauty of nature. She was likewise known for doing moody portraits. Paintings of buildings, though, were not a thing that would