The Cursed Painting: A Doorway to a Forgotten Portal

 Unveiling the Curse: When a Painting Became a Portal to Terror

I was quietly enjoying my tea when a news article caught my eye. It was about a girl who had vanished without a trace—not in a park or on the street, but from her own home. Six months had gone by, and still, there was no sign of her. I leaned in, intrigued and uneasy as I read each line.

Someone shook me hard from behind. It was my boyfriend, Can—always cracking jokes and lightening the mood.My name is Julie and Can have been in a relationship for three years.  I showed him the article and suggested, “What if we covered this story on our channel?”

We run a content channel together and we’re really active on social media, especially with mysterious, unsolved cases. Can grinned and said, “Sounds perfect.” And just like that, we were off on another adventure.

When we arrived at this location, the door to the house was locked. But we weren’t about to give up. We managed to track down the girl’s parents, eager to uncover the truth. I couldn’t stop wondering—how does someone simply disappear from their own home?

After some convincing, her parents finally let us look around the house. We signed the necessary paperwork and got the green light. The next morning, we stood outside that house. This house was quite beautiful inside, but because it had been closed for six months, there was a lot of dust and dirt in it, and it needed to be cleaned. We spent hours cleaning it up, making it just livable enough for our exploration.

The following day, we began to search the house room by room. Hours flew by, but we didn’t find anything unusual. We learned the missing girl’s name was Zara and that she loved painting, as the house was filled with antique art and canvases.

Then… I heard something.

A faint whisper, like a conversation in hushed tones, came from one of the rooms. I looked into the sound and found that it was coming from a closed room. I opened the door to that room. It was pitch dark inside. I flicked on the light—silence. Everything went still.

This was clearly her art room, filled with canvases, brushes, paint-stained fabrics, and a chair that looked like someone had just vacated it.

The Cursed Painting That Opened a Door to the Unknown 

That’s when I spotted it.

There was a painting in the corner of the room, half covered with a cloth. I pulled the cover off, revealing a half-open door depicted in dark colors. In the corner, three words were scratched in, almost like a warning:

Cursed Portal.

A chill ran through me. Who signs their artwork like that?

As I stared at the painting, a sudden gust of wind swept into the room, despite the closed windows and door. I froze. Where was that coming from?

Heart racing, I locked the room and hurried out.

Can had been checking other parts of the house but found nothing unusual. We had permission to stay for ten days—two had already passed. That evening, Can went out for supplies, leaving me alone.

Then… it started again.

Whispers. From the same room.

I didn’t want to go back in, but something was pulling me toward it. I pressed my ear against the door. The voices were clear. Slowly, I opened it—and my breath caught.

The painting was shaking.

The painted door inside was now wide open.

And there was Zara—inside the painting. She stared straight at me, pleading for help.

I stepped forward, but before I could react, dark, monstrous hands emerged from nowhere, seized her, and pulled her into darkness. The painting fell silent.

I screamed. The clock read 6:10 PM.

I rushed outside and anxiously waited for Can. When he got back, I told him everything. He thought I was imagining things. I insisted, “Let’s spend the night in that room. Please.”

So we did. All night, nothing happened.

But I remembered clearly—the bizarre events often kicked off around 6 PM. So, the next day, I woke Can early, determined to be in the room before 6.

And right on cue—the whispers returned.

Can froze. He could hear them too.

We opened the door… and there was Zara again, standing in the painting, begging for help. We reached out—but the painting wouldn’t let us save her.

Instead, it dragged us in.

Suddenly, we stood beside her—inside the painting. The portal behind us closed.

We were trapped.

Zara cried, “Quick! Follow me!” We dashed through a tunnel, emerging into a world unlike anything I had ever seen—dark, surreal, and terrifying.

Zara took us to a safe place and she started telling us about the incident.

She had bought the painting from an antique shop. One day, the portal opened, and she was pulled into this dark realm. Since then, she’d been trying to escape, but time here was different—no sun, just endless night.

 A Thunderous Roar Echoed — And Then Appeared a Terrifying Creature

Suddenly, a deafening roar shattered the silence—so loud and monstrous that we froze. Zara whispered, “That’s the most powerful creature here. Everyone has to serve it. No one who comes here ever makes it back.”

And then we laid eyes on it.

An enormous, terrifying beast. I could feel its evil just by looking at it. Zara quickly offered us some black liquid and a strange herb.

This is all I’ve survived on for six months, she explained. This is all there is to eat to keep yourself alive.

Can hesitated but ended up taking it—and immediately fell sick. He started vomiting and sweating. I panicked, but Zara assured me his body would adjust.

Time flowed differently here than it did back home. We waited in the darkness, hoping the portal would open again. But Can kept getting worse.

Then one day, he lost it.

He bolted away from our shelter. Despite our shouts, he didn’t stop. Suddenly, dark, demonic creatures appeared and dragged him away.

I screamed. His voice echoed… and then faded. 

I tried to chase after him, but Zara restrained me. “Don’t,” she whispered. “They won’t kill him. Just like they didn’t kill me. They enslave humans here.”

I crumpled, crying, utterly heartbroken.

Hours later, Zara looked at me and said, “It’s time. The portal’s about to open.”

Every 12 hours, it opens for just 10 minutes.

We ran.

When we reached the spot, the glowing portal was already there. Zara pushed me toward it—I climbed through, struggling but managing to make it out. As I reached back to pull her with me…

…the portal snapped shut.

I was outside. She was still trapped.

Now I sit here, lost in thought, wondering if anyone would believe this. Everyone keeps asking about Can, and I just tell them he disappeared in the house—because if I shared the truth, they’d think I’m crazy.

And I don’t want anyone else to end up in that cursed place.

So every day… at 6 PM… I wait.

Hoping that one day, Can and Zara will return.

Just like I did.