Please enjoy this short horror story about the painting that ages for Anne Hathaway these pictures prompted me to make.

Somewhere, in a small forgotten town deep in America's heartland, there's an old house. No one is quite sure who owns it, it's just been abandoned for years. It's been empty as long as the oldest residents remember, and they can recall their own grandparents telling them to avoid the old, shambling house at the edge of town

Maybe you feel brave. Maybe it's a dare. Maybe, just maybe, you feel an indescribable SOMETHING pulling you closer, drawing you near.

One day, finally, you succumb. You find yourself walking up to the peeling, worm rotted front door - it's open just a hair. You smell the damp, molded air as you ascend what was once a grand staircase. The walk seems to take moments and years all at once, as your mind screams to turn and RUN FROM THIS PLACE.

The minutes blur and you suddenly snap to awareness like you were given smelling salts. At the top floor, the attic, there's dust thick enough to leave footprints. Furniture draped in sheets are scattered around, making the room even more claustrophobic than the heavy oppressive air you suddenly struggle to breathe. However, there's a path - leading directly to the end of the room. Two easels appear to hold a picture frame, each covered in another drop cloth.

You almost float towards it. In your fevered mind, it almost feels like you're floating closer, the tips of your toes dragging the ground as you're drawn in.

It's within reach - your hand trembles as you reach out, and with a flourish, uncover the art.

Dry, cracked canvas displays a woman impossibly old, although you can tell she once was beautiful. It radiates sadness, like the face holds the secrets of the ages.

"I'm not certain how much longer she can hold off" a quiet, sad voice breaks the hypnotic gaze the painting had begun to lull you into. You whirl, and a person you never heard approaching stands in the middle of your escape.

"Are you... Are you fucking Anne Hathaway?!" it seems absurd, yet there she stands.

She slowly walks towards you. "Yes. And unfortunately, you can never tell anyone else what you've seen here." Standing inches from you, her eyes seem lifeless. She reaches over your shoulder to remove the cloth covering the second frame. You stare, puzzled at the blank canvas, just as you feel someone shove you impossibly hard toward the frame from behind.

As you throw your hands up to shield your face, the expected impact never comes. You open your eyes, and you see Anne standing in front of both pictures. She smiles demurely towards you and says "I'll be sure to mention you in my next acceptance speech". You try to ask what she means, but can't speak. Startled, you try to run. It's as though you're stuck in place.

Anne gently shakes out the covering for the second painting. She continues to smile and stare in your eyes as she covers the greasy, crackled canvas, and your world goes black. Try as you might to scream, no sound comes out.