Above the mantle, in the silent study of the late Sir Patrick Vanish, sits a portrait.

Not a valuable antique, in contrast to the other priceless artifacts held in Sir Patrick’s collection

Just a simple oil painting, crafted by a dear friend’s memory.

Its frame a monument of a golden era

Sits unassumingly so over the Study.

The portrait stares across the space with those icy blue-green eyes

That cold gaze, over the otherwise inviting room, looks unfazed. Its soul languid.

Sir Vanish’s portrait, an eerily similar depiction to the dead man himself.

Appears as alive as yourself, with its rich brown hair and matching trimmed mustache

Its monocle, its regency suit, and its copper-clad cane.

Sitting on an ornate silvered chair, brimming with prestige

With a ponderous and uneasy expression.

A slight smile creasing the edges of the otherwise stoic mouth. A hallow body below its paled and shallow face, almost as if seeing a ghost.

Yes. As mysterious as this painting is, with its eyes following you across the room, it seems fit with the warm fire beneath it.

After all, portraits can’t walk. Surely shall the blotted reflection remain?

At last! A great nephew stumbles upon the Study.

And to what does he find above the hearth?

What not but an empty frame, hanging from above the aged mantle. Made of oak, or a kind.

Though the portrait remains a puzzle. Though its frame remains without an occupant.

One will find Sir Vanish’s portrait poetic. The great Sir Patrick Vanish’s portrait; vanishes without a trace.

Photo by Luis Villasmil on Unsplash