Mona Farnsworth
There she was...,It was a huge painting, a portrait of a woman standing full-length against a background of misty trees and shadowed gardens. Her white dress was cut low, and swirled in soft folds around her feet. Her arms held roses; two of them had fallen, making soft splashes of color half buried in that whiteness. Her face was oval, her hair red-gold, and I knew without looking that her eyes were amber. For, when I wore white, my eyes were amber, and looking at this woman was like looking into a mirror at myself. It was a woman of a hundred years ago. My great-grandmother. As I turned, a chilling touch brushed by my cheek. An odor of mildew and old fabrics invaded the air. The ran down the stairs in terror, falling, falling...
Gothic
The Evil That Waited