The Scream

The voices were clear. "So, what are we going to do, Mona Lisa?"

Mona Lisa turned to The Thinker. It was clear that he would not be of much help. He was a thinker and not a leader. Mona Lisa felt empowered by this responsibility. Back when she was painted, women may have been the source of paintings but not such leadership. She took a deep breath and tried to think the situation through.

There had to be a way to deal with this problem. "Can we return to our paintings? Why don't we try? And for you, Thinker, try returning to how you were posed before," Mona Lisa suggested. She fingered the damaged wood carefully, feeling sad that after all the time it took to be painted, that the picture was completely destroyed. She was already feeling homesick, missing where she had come from and stayed for so many years. Mona Lisa looked at the ripped artwork again, trying to figure out how to enter a picture that she had always lived in. "How shall we do this," she asked herself.

The Thinker stood by his base, trying to recreate his old pose. But, it wasn't working. He frowned.

"So, how do you think we should do this," asked The Thinker. "You have some experience with this. Weren't you missing for a while?"

She shook her head and closed her eyes, trying to not think about the bad memories. Mona Lisa replied slowly, "Two years, I was missing - and please don't remind me about it. It was not a pleasant experience, being stolen. However, there was much celebration after my return." She sighed. Mona Lisa wished this time would be as easy as the time she was stolen. "This isn't quite the same. I was still in the portrait last time. I never left my background."

"Yes, this is a little different situation," said The Thinker, trying to keep his original pose. But, nothing was happening. He still was too real.

Mona Lisa put her hand through her painting. Nothing happened. She couldn't feel any change to her. She worked up her courage to stick as much of her body through the hole as possible, but it appeared to do nothing. Instead she snagged some of her long, curly hair on the ragged edges. She smoothed back her hair and stared for a long time at the painting she used to live in.

Just then, a scream broke the silence. "AAAAAAAUUUUUUGHHHHHHH!" Mona Lisa turned away from her painting and The Thinker stood up and took a look around. The scream continued, coming closer, and closer, and closer. "AAAAAAUUUUUUGHHHHHHH" the scream continued.

They could see him then: a man holding his hands to his face, mouth wide open, screaming.

Startled, they didn't have much time to think, so they found the first hiding spot and both dived right into Mona Lisa's broken painting.

The scream followed them.