Lost Paintings

Mona Lisa and The Thinker ran out of the painting so fast that they knocked over chairs and ran right into a table. The Thinker had not quite gotten his balance, and knocked over a few more chairs.

Mona Lisa rubbed her hip. Being real was painful.

"Where are we," asked The Thinker.

"I do not know. It appears that we came through another painting and ended up in another building," Mona Lisa said. This was all very strange to her.

She was trying not to look at The Thinker. She looked around the room and saw a long white apron hanging. It was splattered with paint but would work for what she needed. "I was thinking, now that we are human - you might want to wear something. We can start with this." She handed it over, trying to avoid looking directly at The Thinker.

"Thank you," said The Thinker. He tied the apron around his waist. "I was sculpted without garments. If I was human before, I would have dressed more like a gentleman, especially when ladies were present."

Mona Lisa smiled. "Well, that is better," she said as she looked approvingly at the Thinker.

She took a look at the painting that was ripped. "It looks like someone tried to paint me again," she said, fingering the ripped canvas. "And somehow, we came through this new painting into this building."

"It is almost like we came through a hallway in time or space, and this painting was a door," she said softly, then shook her head. None of this made sense to her.

The Thinker wasn't listening. Instead, he was inspecting the ripped painting. "It looks like someone gave you a frown," The Thinker noted.

Mona Lisa was thoughtful. She wondered why someone would make her frown.

She was thinking about that when a giant scream rose and appeared to come right through the painting they were looking at. "AUUUUUGHHHHHH!" The noise was so loud and powerful that it knocked her right over, and The Thinker stepped back from the damaged artwork, startled.

"It's coming! Oh no, it's coming! The sky is red! This is the end! AUUUUUGHHHH!"

Mona Lisa pulled herself up and smoothed her black skirt. The scream sounded familiar. She was no longer afraid - so she faced this new person boldly.

He was another painting like her and was known as the Scream. Of course, now that he had come out of his painting he was human like they were. He was just another lost painting, like they were.

She stopped the Scream, touching his right shoulder, gently. "It's not the end. It is all quite confusing, however, we will try to get back to our paintings," Mona Lisa told him.