Ooooh!

Ahhhh!

Allie’s parents said good night and shut the door. Now the sleepiness was hitting her. It was then, though, that she heard a whisper through the darkness.

Psssstttt...

Allie sat straight up. “Who’s there?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Me.”

“Who’s ‘me’?” Allie replied, her heart pounding.

“The painting.”

“Am I dreaming?” Allie wondered aloud. That must be it.

"No. I’m alive,” the masterpiece replied.

Allie fumbled for her lamp and clicked it on. The painting had changed! Now it was just a woman's eyes and mouth.

"You painted me hungry."

 the woman said. 

"I didn't mean to," Allie whispered. "What are you hungry for?"

"Not food," the woman said. 

 "Life. Experiences. I've only got one moment, frozen forever. I want more.”

Allie didn't know whether to be afraid or delighted. 

"What do you want me to do?"

"Paint me a world," the woman said. "Just a little more each night. A flower. A bird. A path for my feet.”

So Allie did. The next night, she crept downstairs for her paints and added ferns, and a stream curling through the grass. When she stepped back, the woman inhaled the extra brushstrokes like a sigh of relief.

"More," the woman whispered. "Please.”

Allie fed her every night that week. A flock of birds. A crown of actual gold leaf. A distant castle on a hill. Each time, the painting grew fuller, richer, more alive — and each time, the woman's hunger seemed to grow bigger too, not smaller.

"More," she said, on the seventh night, her voice sharper now. "You've barely begun."

Allie's hand was cramped. Her eyes stung. She had skipped swim practice and her best friend's birthday call to paint borders of ivy and stars. Her parents asked if she was feeling all right; she said she was fine, though she wasn't sure that was true.

"I don't have anything left to give you tonight," Allie finally admitted, setting down her brush. Her fingers trembled — not with magic this time, just tiredness.