《The Manor》作者： - Scott Nicholson【TXT】

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1 Mason Jackson stared at the large oil painting that hung on the wall above the fireplace. Itstared right back as severe as any of Masons former art instructors. The scowling face ofthe portrait dominated the room ten times life-size. The flesh tones of the oils were sore-alistic that Mason could imagine the figure bursting free of the ornate wooden frame. Abrass plate beneath the painting was etched with the name ephram korban. Mason studied theblack eyes. They were the only features that lacked the realism of the rest of the paint-ing.The eyes were dead dul completely unanimated. But Mason wasnt a painter himself so he hadno grounds for criticism. Critics be damned and he was actually more interested inthe frame than the painting. It ap-peared to be hand-carved. Mason glanced behind him at the people miling in the foyer. Through the open door he couldsee two men in overals unloading the wagon. A busty fortyish woman wearing a long blackdress seemed to be everywhere at once giving orders distributing drinks in long sweatyglasses shaking hands. Mason moved closer to the fire-place. Though the day was warm for lateOctober a fire blazed in the hearth all yellow and orange and other bright autumn colors. Thefireplace mantel was also hand-carved. Bas-relief cherubim and seraphim plump Raphaelite formswing-ing among the thick curls of clouds. Mason checked his fingers to make sure theywere clean then felt among the smooth shapes. As his hands explored he noticed someonehad left a half-filed glass of red wine on the mantel. He thought of the rings the glass mightleave on the white paint like blood on virgin snow. No re-spect for the work of acraftsman. He again looked at the eyes in the painting. Now Ephram Korban seemed to be gazing outacross the room brooding over these people who had dared to cross his threshold. The face wasalternately compeling and repulsive. Mason touched the frame— quotLovely isnt itquot came a womans high voice. Mason spun his satchel nearly knocking over the wineglass. Before him stood the buxomwoman in the black dress her dark hair tied in a tight bun. Her smile was fixed on her face asif chiseled. quotYesquot Mason said. quotWhoever carved this must have spent a few weeks on it.quot She giggled athin artificial sound. quotI was