After a few more minutes of mingling, their professor finally arrived. He was a short balding man with a wispy white goatee and a pair of small circular spectacles. He walked up to the podium to formally address the class despite its diminutive size.
“The shoulder pads are a bit much,” Zoey whispered. “Doesn’t he look out of central casting?”
“Shhhh!” Beth shot back.
“Ahem,” the teacher cleared his throat. “I’m professor Katsaros! Professor K is fine too. Welcome to Greek Art 209. I believe this is everyone, why don’t we go ahead and get started?”
The first day of class was uneventful. It was your standard introductory lesson. Professor Katsaros went over the required books, handed out a syllabus, and generally went over what they’d be covering that semester. The most interesting part was watching him walk around the room. Every artifact was tied to a specific unit they’d be studying. Sculpting, pottery, coinage, that sort of thing.
“What about the painting?” Mark’s hand shot up at the first opportunity for questions.
Professor Katsaros glanced over at the painting in question. “Oh. Right. That was donated to the classroom by a group of students a while back.”
The classmates all exchanged skeptical looks. There was something going on with that painting.
After a short introductory lesson, everyone began to gather their things. Andrew gave the painting one last look and then turned his attention to his backpack. He reached in and pulled out a cheap glasses case he still had in his bag from last semester’s gym class. He slipped it into the storage space underneath his desk and got on with the rest of his day.
He wanted a closer look at that painting. It was easier to slip into some place you weren’t supposed to be when you were telling the truth. That evening he returned to the history building and went up to the student worker manning the front desk. One short tale about forgetting a glasses case later and he had a key to the room.
He was just going to slip inside, take a closer look at the painting, and get on with his life. He’d wave the recovered glasses case to the guy at the front desk, return the key, and be home in time to get an early start on his homework. If some students really did donate the painting there would probably be a note written on the back or something, right?
Andrew unlocked the door and stepped inside. Everything was right where it was that morning. Nothing was out of place or unusual.
Except the fact that the painting was glowing.
Moon light from a nearby window had hit the frame just right. It was glistening in the otherwise dark room.
“Woah...” Andrew stepped forward.
He stepped closer to the painting. This was just a trick of the light, right? No, it... it really was glowing! The entire frame seemed to be giving off a faint white light. Even the picture itself appeared to be lit up.
Woah. The picture had changed. Gone were all the figures they had seen that morning. It was now just an empty forest clearing. A forest clearing at night with a familiar full moon no less.
“This is impossible...” Andrew leaned in.
He could smell a faint earthiness coming off of the painting. It smelled almost like wet grass? Or- The painting’s creek? A small gust of air brushed his cheeks as he leaned in.
In the painting, Andrew could see the blades of grass in the clearing move with the wind. Water was rippling faintly in the distance.
He wordlessly reached out towards the painting. He knew he couldn’t touch the canvas, but he needed something to ground him back in reality. He pressed his fingers up against the surface softly.
His hand went through the canvas and into the painting.
“Wha- Gah!” Andrew let out a startled shout. He suddenly felt a tugging sensation. It was like someone was pulling on the wrist of his unseen hand. He was pulled forward hard. His arm was in the painting up to his elbow now! He lost his balance as he was pulled up against the wall. Finally his head was pulled in towards the painting. The classroom disappeared, and he felt himself tumble head over heels.
Andrew landed gracelessly on his back. He panted for a moment as the strange pulling subsided. He stared up and saw not a bland classroom ceiling, but a starry night sky.
“What the hell!?” Andrew bolted up to his feet.
He was in a familiar forest clearing. He could feel the grass underneath his shoes. The sound of a nearby creek flowing peacefully filled his ears. Off in the distance, several stone columns towered over him. He was in the painting.
The painting!
He spun back around. Andrew was standing beside a massive looking tree. Its trunk would have needed at least three or four people holding hands to fully encircle. He wasn’t good at identifying what type of tree it was, but that was the least of his concern at the moment.
Nailed onto the tree was a familiar looking frame. It glowed faintly in the moonlight just as the painting in the history building had. Its subject was notably different however.
It showed the empty night time classroom.
“Where did I- What did-“ Andrew reached out again.
Once more his hand went through the painting. He pulled his arm back before the strange tugging sensation could begin again. Thankfully his hand looked fine. What was going on here? Was the painting some sort of portal? A portal to where exactly?
Andrew wasn’t sure he should stick around and find out. During the day this was apparently a lively little clearing. He wasn’t sure the creatures in the painting would take kindly to a human showing up out of nowhere.
He... he could jump back through the painting, right?
Andrew took a deep breath and looked around the clearing one last time. He’d have to come back and show this to someone! This was like something out of a fantasy novel! No one was going to believe him!
He turned back towards the painting. Just when he was about to stretch his hand back out, a dense cloud drifted in front of the full moon.
The clearing immediately darkened. It took Andrew’s eyes a moment to adjust. When things came back into focus, the painting was no longer glowing. Not only that, the image in the frame was just a static canvas.
It showed a small classroom during the day. Three students and their professor were in a lively debate. Even in the stylized Greek caricature Andrew could make out the figures of Professor Katsaros, Mark, Zoey, and Beth. Meanwhile, Andrew’s desk wasn’t just empty. It was nowhere to be seen.
Andrew felt his stomach churn. It wasn’t just foreboding though. He was suddenly hit with a wave of vertigo. His skin began to itch. He doubled over as he was overcome with another wave of dysphoria.
Back in the classroom, the painting had ceased to glow as well. The moon light had passed, and the canvas had returned to its usual state. The painting showed the daytime scene with the usual pantheon of mythical creatures gathered around the clearing. Instead of just eight figures however, a ninth had joined their ranks. This new mythical creature was wearing a pair of well polished glasses.