Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-28299494-20170403020638

I'm going to start out by saying thank you. Thank you for reading this because I need help, and I only have so long to write this. About three days ago my thirty-one old mother inherited an old painting from my aunt, Abby. It was a beautiful painting of roses, it kind of looked like Vincent Van Goh's painting "Sunflowers." Abby wrote a note inside the box saying she had got it for free from someone she met on the street. She hung up the painting in her room above her bed. The next morning, Mom asked Dad and me if we smelt a stench of roses. We both said no, and Mom had a very confused look on her face. I didn't know why at the time as we had no roses in the house. Mom drove off to work and I went to school. The day was normal until I Mom got home. She asked us again if we smelt roses, and we both said no again, this time Dad had a concerned look on his face. So did Mom, but she looked more annoyed than concerned.

When Mom went in her room, our dog, Lobo, started barking and growling very angrily. But not at her, at the rose painting. Strange, but sometimes dogs bark at thin air outside, this was not the case. Lobo did not want to leave the room, even when she was kicked off the bed she just hid under it, still growling on occasion. The next morning Mom looked to be crying, I asked what was wrong. She said she couldn't sleep all night, she said that rose smell got a lot stronger. So much so it was very noticeable for her. But not for me and Dad. Now I knew something was wrong, I told Dad about what happened. He was greatly concerned, Lobo now wouldn't let us into Mom's room, she'd snap and growl at us to stay away. I had no school that day since it was Lincoln's birthday, and Dad didn't have work. But Mom did, she worked in an office doing finance work for a company called "Military Deli." A sandwich place like Subway. Lobo never left the room, even to eat. When Mom got home, she was absolutely bawling. I have never seen someone cry this much. Dad immediately came to her aid. She kept yelling "It won't go away," I asked what and she said the rose smell. She said it was growing to be unbearable very indiscriminately. I could hardly understand her.

Lobo was outside, crying. I went outside to comfort her for whatever was making her cry so much. Lobo even slept with me, which almost never happens. The next morning I went into Mom's room, Dad was yelling at her to respond. She was lying on the bed eyes wide open, not moving. She didn't even blink. Her eyes unnaturally red. I called 911, and the paramedics took her to the hospital. Dad told me to give him the painting and he went outside and burned it. Once it was burned completely five rose petals remained on the stump it was burned. 