The Voice Inside the Painting by Noah Calkin

[French-influenced background music plays]

I really hate this place. All I always see are the same four walls. White like... white like

what? Huh. Never thought of that before. White like white I guess. You can't really color

white can you? But yes.

I hate this. People walking by, hearing the noises of the foot, the feet. Foot, feet. Huh.

Tongue twisting. All I hear is the clanger of the wooden floors. Bang after bang after

bang. So many people each day. Row after row.

And like clockwork as I'm talking to myself, the same old guy. Always pointing at me.

With a new group of people. He's like, he's like, he grabs these new people that joke at

me and point out my insecurity. All my flaws. And I'm just like why man? Every day. Stop

pointing at me. If I can get out of this painting I'll strangle him.

But sadly this old man continues to bother me with his own funny little moustache.

Beret. Huh, beret. And his round glasses. I'm glad he can't see well. Looks like he hasn’t

aged that well either. Hopefully I don't see him again in a few years’ time. And here he

goes, walks away again. Coward!

Well, this is my life. The same paintings. The same things. Why is there always my kind

over there? I wish they talked to me, but they're always in this one pose or this one

weird thing. Cause I see one of my kind over there doing this, holding together some

type of pose. Don't know why. Always has that smile, faded like it's been many years.

Maybe that's why. Maybe they got too crazy and just broke one day.

[Gunshots, followed by screaming]

Huh. What was that noise? What was that banging? Why are people screaming? Where,

where they going? Wait come back! Hey look the old guy's back! What is he pointing?

[Gunshot, body drops]

Oh no. What's that red stuff? That's not good. Is he breathing? I think so. Is that blood?

What the hell's going on?

Everyone is running away. Can't see them. What is... Who is that guy? What are these

loud footsteps?

[Marching sound]

This guy is wearing grey clothes. Leather gloves. This black and grey hat with a skull?

What is he, a pirate? Get away from me buddy. You don't want to touch me. I will… get

away from me. No! Get away from me! Hands off the merchandise!

He took me off. I never been pulled off the wall like that before. His hands are rough.

This is no normal person.

[Quiet footsteps]

What are these other footsteps? They don't sound like what they wear. These people.

Hey, what's this black thing? Wait hold on. I can't see now. Why is it pure darkness? Did

they turn off the lights? No that can't be it. This thing, is this a cloth? I think I've seen a

guy clean before with a cloth. Not this big one.

Where are we going? Where are we heading off to?

[Car driving noises]

Wait hold on. Hold on. What was that, what was that noise, what was that whooshing

noise? What's that, what's that noise of a, is it a door opening? Wait wait. Ouch! You

threw me. Wait, hold on, and they closed the door. That's great.

[Car revs up and drives away]

What's that, what’s noise? Is something starting up? I didn’t know there was music in

here. Oh wait hold on, we're moving? Why are we shaking? Ouch! Okay, they're not

playing nice. Why, why you keep throwing me around like I'm some common being? I'm

no, I'm no random stranger you can throw around. Why does everyone want to hurt

me? Well, I could hopefully figure out where I go next. I hope someone saves me.

[Car door opens, seat squeaks, car door closes.]

Noah: During the Second World War, most of Europe was ransacked and looted by the

Nazis, stealing 6,000 paintings, diamonds and jewelry, and also a bunch of gold.

Whatever they can get their hands on, really. During the Second World War, a lot of it

was found by the Allies, but there's still some hiding away somewhere. Either way, my

listener. I bid you a good day and a good night.