“BREAKING NEWS: Two more artists and their work reported missing in another suspected abduction.

The police are still searching for any leads. Identities of the abductors are still unknown. Citizens are advised to report any suspicious activity to the police and remain vigilant.”

Thunder roared overhead, inciting a fury of barks from the neighborhood dogs. I could still faintly hear the news despite the loud pattering of the rain. The soft blue glow of the TV was overpowered for a split second by a bright flash of lightning. All my senses were heightened, frantically searching for any sign of danger. And then I heard it- the sharp cracking of glass. They had come for me.

For years, artists all over this country had been mysteriously vanishing with their artwork, leaving no trace behind. The police were stumped, but the remaining art community knew they were abducted. We had been preparing ourselves in case we also had an encounter with these art thieves.

I dashed up the stairs, heading for my art studio. Their footsteps chased after me. Panting, I picked up the vase next to the door to defend myself and locked the door with the keys. I turned and caught the glimpse of a silhouette approaching me. Grabbing the keys in my hand, I ran down the hallway, turning to the open window at the end. I reached out my hand to toss them out . . .

Time seemed to slow down. Something hard hit my back, toppling me over, sending electricity pulsing through my veins.

An orange mist started to creep out from behind me, and spread around the room. My heartbeat got louder and louder until it was too much for me to bear. My mind was getting dizzier, sleepier, as my eyes closed and my head hit the ground.

A cool breeze engulfed me, whispering softly to me. I heard the distant sound of crashing waves, and the warm sun on my skin. My body felt stiff, and my mouth felt dry. Slowly I peeled my eyes open.

I was somewhere by the sea side, surrounded by fields of daisies, and a vast sea lying ahead of me. Getting up off the ground, I looked around, trying to gauge where I was. Putting a hand up to stop the wind blowing my hair in my face, I spotted a cottage in the distance, perched gracefully beside the crashing waves. It felt oddly familiar, as if I had been there before. Furrowing my brows, I wracked my brain, trying to remember.

Wait.

I hadn’t been here before, for it didn’t exist. I had, however, painted this five years ago. This was my painting. How was I standing inside my painting?

Looking at the cottage, I tried to walk to it. After minutes of walking, the cottage still didn’t seem to be getting any closer. I tried to run towards it but stopped realizing that I still wasn’t getting closer. I seemed immovable, stuck in place.

My panic and confusion grew, and I gazed around desperate to find anyone else around me. Turning, I saw a strange sight before me: a giant circle, a kind of portal, cut out at the edge of the horizon, the same orange glow surrounding it.

An unfamiliar face moved towards the portal, with conniving eyes looking right at me. He had a square jaw, rough skin, and dull blue eyes. With a smile perched on his thin lips, he raised his hands into view, holding a small magnifying glass. He held it in front of one eye with his nimble fingers, and stared at me through the glass.

“Ricky! Let’s move!”

The man named Ricky jerked his head towards the voice. They must be the abductors. He shuffled backwards and moved out of frame.

But it was his necklace that caught my attention. It was a small orange conch shell attached to a delicate golden chain. It looked identical to the one I was wearing myself, except his was different. It was engulfed by the same orange glow, seemingly coming from the conch shell itself.

Squinting my eyes, I tried to look around the room in the portal. It was my studio. They were the abductors. Another man came into view, except he didn’t look at me. He was instead carrying a large painting of a starry sky that I had finished last month. I tried to scream at him, to get him to stop, but he kept moving. I watched them move every last painting, cover them in a dingy cloth, and carry them out one by one, eventually draping a cloth over the portal as well.

I pulled out my necklace from underneath my shirt. It was identical down to the shape and pattern of the conch shell, but my conch shell was a light lavender shade. A kindly old woman had sold it to me five years ago on the coast of a Greek island. It was what had inspired me to make this very painting that I was trapped inside of. Maybe she had sold that necklace to the man as well. But how was his necklace glowing?

I took it off and examined the shell.

“Abracadabra!”

. . .

That didn’t work.

“Hocus Pocus!”

. . .

That didn’t work.

“Get me out of here! Please! Start glowing!”

. . .

That didn’t work either.

I held the shell in my palm, close to my heart. It was hopeless. This was never going to work. I started dreaming of the moment I could get out.

Time lagged again, and I was surrounded by a soft, lavender glow. The world around me started to distort. Everything revealed the paint strokes that formed it, like I had freshly painted it. The feathery strokes in the grass, the swirling strokes in the clouds, the boxy strokes in the sky, the flowy strokes of the ocean waves. The strokes started moving, the vast horizon getting closer and closer to me. They started connecting and returning to the flat painting and pressed against me, like a solid wall. I could feel the ridges of the canvas underneath my fingertips. It started pushing me backwards to the portal, whose orange glow had started to shrink, overcome by the lavender glow. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling dizzy and nauseous.

I was hit by a gust of wind, and thrown into the air, and then my feet softly touched the ground. I opened my eyes and found myself standing in a dingy, old room, the walls covered in paintings. I turned around and saw my painting, the sea, the flower fields, and the cottage, resting quietly atop the circular canvas, sparkling mischievously.

Gathering my breath, I searched for any other paintings of mine. None were there. I saw a door at the end of the room and slowly creaked it open. Poking my head out, I saw a dimly lit hallway. The hallway was lined with different paintings.

I knew all of them, they were made by many different artists who had vanished along with their works many years ago. I had met all of those artists, some were even my friends. I had been to all of their exhibitions and seen all of their work. Until they had been abducted.

If the paintings were here, the painters must also be here somewhere.

I opened all the doors in the hallway. They opened to rooms with walls covered in paintings. Each room was dedicated to one single artist. They were all missing paintings. There was always one painting in each room with one single figure painted on. They seemed to be paintings of the artists themselves. This must be how they managed to abduct so many people without leaving any clues. They trapped the artists in their paintings like they had done to me.

I tried to use my necklace to bring them out. The mist swirled around the frames, but nothing happened. They remained as they were. I had to find Ricky. He was the one who did this to them, and he will be the one to undo it.

I ran out of the room and down the hallway, where I spotted my painting of the starry sky. I had almost reached it when a man dressed in black appeared from a corner. Shocked, he reached out to grab me.

The lavender mist instantly emerged, surrounding the man. He tried to fan it away, but fainted as soon as he inhaled the mist. He fell to the floor and I jumped back to evade him. I stepped over his body and stood in front of my painting. I was about to turn away but the mist gathered around me and I was thrust into the frame.

I was floating in the air this time, surrounded by different coloured glowing orbs. It was the starry sky I had painted. Behind me was a giant rectangular portal, surrounded by a lavender mist, looking onto the hallway.

The mist traveled between the stars, and I followed it, jumping from one star to another until a gust of wind threw me forward, and planted my feet safely onto soft ground. I was inside another painting, amidst snowy mountains, beneath the northern lights. Paint strokes had formed again, and I felt the paint propel me forward.

Ricky stood before me, turning around to see me emerge from the painting. With wide eyes, he shouted,

“How did you do that?”

He grabbed his necklace and the orange mist reappeared, throwing me back into the painting. Tumbling through the air, I had no time to overcome the dizziness. He was glaring at me through the portal, squinting to see if I would do anything else. Another one of my paintings hung on the wall behind him. I held my necklace and the mist reappeared and pulled me through the snow beneath my feet.

The wind placed me in the midst of sky-high trees and tough soil. The portal showed Ricky with his back to me, still gazing into the painting. I used the necklace again and the lavender mist launched me out to the room once more. I ran and jumped on his back. He tried to pry my hands from his neck, but I wouldn’t let go. I covered his eyes with one hand making him trip and we both fell to the floor. I flipped him on his stomach and climbed onto his back. He tried to reach behind him, roaring with fury, but I swatted his hands away and ripped the necklace off of his neck.

I crawled away from him, and he turned around and grabbed my foot. I held the shell from his necklace and repeatedly smashed it into the ground. He screamed as it broke. It released orange mist as it broke, which spread to the paintings that covered every inch of the walls in the room. Slowly, different people started to appear out of the paintings, some I recognised as the artists recently reported missing, while some had been reported missing years ago.

As they tried to gather themselves, a group of men dressed in black burst into the hall, calling for Ricky. He came up behind me, grabbed my arms and barked orders at them to not let anyone leave. I held onto my necklace and said the same word to it.

The lavender mist surrounded Ricky and his men, lifting them up into the air. They shouted in fear trying to free themselves. The mist then blew them into my paintings one by one, trapping them inside, printing them into the paint on the canvas.

That’s how a whole group of vanished artists re-emerged from their abduction and were brought back to society. My new collection of paintings, sporting different landscapes with one singular figure in between, will be exhibited at the end of this month.