Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-27123040-20151028190837

In a small town in Nevada during the 1990s, there lived a boy named Vincent Argo. Vincent barely ever spoke and was always a bit different from other kids. While they would laugh and play, Vincent would paint pictures. They weren’t bad pictures, but something about them always made the other children cry and run away. No one ever knew why though, because all they were splotches of black paint on a piece of paper.



The older Vincent got, though, the more unnerving his paintings became. When an adult would ask what he was painting, he would always reply with: Whatever you think it is. Then he would show them his artwork and stare at them as they went into a nervous breakdown. Reactions to his paintings varied from cowering and screaming to Irreversible Traumatization and Refusal to sleep. The worst reaction, however, belonged to his college art teacher, the day she stared at his painting for just five seconds before she began to scream violently and jumped out the second story window of the college, landing on the sidewalk with a broken neck. Unfortunately, he was not arrested or even expelled, because the teacher’s death was not linked with the painting she stared at only seconds before her death. Instead, the teacher’s death was classified as spontaneous act of suicide and school resumed like normal.



Tell me, have you ever looked at an inkblot and saw something you wish you hadn’t? Did you ever wonder how those strange blobs of ink turned into an image so clear you’re positive it couldn’t be anything else? Do you want to know the secret that Vincent learned so long ago? There is a certain inkblot that always induces fear. And this is the inkblot:  