This is a short story written by an AU student as part of our Creative Submission series. If you would like a work to be published in the Student Movement, please email your submission to tjhatra@andrews.edu.
Ophelia woke to the sound of boots clicking on the marble floors. Slowly, she peeled herself off the hard bench. Where was she?
Clip clop clip clop.
They grew nearer.
She sprang to her feet, staying out of the security guard’s line of sight. Still, the gruff middle-aged man paused at the entrance to the gallery. Ophelia tiptoed backwards until she felt the wall hit her back.
The security guard’s flashlight darted over the benches, white busts, and portraits. Did he know she was there? She hadn’t meant to fall asleep and overstay her welcome. The flashlight turned to the wall she was pressed against. Nowhere else to hide, Ophelia braced herself against the wall. Her fingers splayed out, accidentally tapping the framing of the nearby painting—the one she had fallen asleep studying.
A funny feeling flashed in her stomach as she shut her eyes. She couldn’t be caught. She just couldn’t!
Seconds ticked by, but the guard didn’t grab her, nor did he shout.
“What is it, Clyde?” called a far away woman’s voice.
The security guard hmphed, returning to the hallway.
“Psst!”
Ophelia opened her eyes to see the smiling face of the painted lady.
“He’s gone.”
The lady’s hands shot out, muffling Ophelia’s scream.
“Hush. You’re safe.”
“What are you? How are you talking to me?”
The painted lady laughed, looking over her shoulder to an older woman holding a platter, hidden in the shadows. “The girl doesn’t know her gift.”
“Never jumped into a painting before, I reckon,” replied the gravelly voice of the old woman.
“I’m Judith,” said the young lady. “And you are a jumper.”
“A jumper?”
“Yes, a painting jumper. Truly an incredible gift!”
Ophelia’s breath caught. Could it be?
She turned sharply, surveying the room. To one side was the gallery. To the other, the deep depths of color, closer than ever before. Ophelia reached to touch the red velvet curtains. The sleeves of a blue dress covered her arms—a blue dress in the ancient style similar to Judith’s. Ophelia touched her locs; they twisted back into a regency updo similar to Judith’s red hair.
“How can I—”
The young lady shrugged. “I haven’t run across a jumper in years. They are quite rare.”
Ophelia’s fingers curled around the portrait’s frame. A once in a lifetime opportunity lay before her. She bounced on her toes, ready to explore.
“I wish you the best,” Judith called as Ophelia leapt from the painting, back into the gallery.
In the distance, the guard’s footsteps trailed away from the exhibit.
It was time to play.
Such a big museum. So much to explore. But how long did she have? Curiosity burned within Ophelia as she ran through the exhibit, passing the portraits and paintings she’d admired all day, never once dreaming she possessed the ability to jump into them.
She chatted briefly with a nun and played in a blooming field along a riverbank with a sweet woman named Magdalene. A grumpy marble bust yelled as she darted past.
Leaving the museum’s Italian exhibit, Ophelia ventured into one of her favorite rooms—an exhibit housing African American art. She felt at home, sitting with older women as they quilted. A baby cried in her mother’s arms and a man plucked away at his guitar, serenading the quilters. She dove into another exhibition where she sat at the edge of a vibrant, dream-like Nile chatting with the people bathing in the river.
Art came to life. She’d roamed these halls throughout her childhood, but jumping into them brought new depth to her understanding of the art. She could listen to the characters, explore the vast landscapes, and closely study the details. Each brushstroke. Each piece. Each style. It was all at her fingertips.
She spent hours weaving through the African-American art before wandering through the other cultures—Middle-Eastern, African, Native American, Southeast Asian and more. Each new exhibit with unique styles opened up a whole new world for Ophelia. A world made of colors, paints, clay, and wood.
As she was strolling through the Korean exhibit engrossed with the displays, a shadow passed through the doorway.
A hand clamped around Ophelia’s wrist. The guard.
“I’ve got you now, thief!”
She screamed, yanking away. His hands were rough, but she twisted out of them and ran. He lumbered after her as she raced for safety.
She needed a painting. She needed to jump.
Careful not to hit any of the pieces, she darted into the Chinese art exhibit. Not having time to be picky, she jumped into the blue ink of a beautiful white teapot. Hidden behind the swirls of flowers, Ophelia, outlined in the same blue, trembled as the guard prowled.
He searched in every nook and cranny. He’d even looked directly at her teapot, but still he found nothing. He hurled curses and threats.
Ophelia slumped behind the flowers, her dream fading into a nightmare. Trapped in a pot with nowhere to go, she curled up to wait out the storm.
“Hey, miss,” a gentle voice called.
Ophelia’s eyes blinked as she sat up. Where was she? What had—The teapot!
Her eyes darted back and forth, searching for answers.
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” soothed the woman who cradled Ophelia in her arms on the bench.
She smiled, waiting for Ophelia to re-orient herself. Somehow, they were back in the Italian exhibit filled with portraits. Judith hung nearby with that old woman still slinking in the shadows.
“What happened?”
“You fell asleep,” the kind woman answered. “Must’ve been some dream you were having. I found you shaking like a leaf.”
Ophelia noted the woman’s uniform. Another security guard.
“Jane! Did you find the thief!” rang a gruff voice from down the hall.
“No, Clyde!”
The woman, Jane, smiled knowingly, lowering her voice so only Ophelia could hear, “You certainly aren’t a thief. Just a kid who fell asleep.”
“How did you—?”
“You have some paint on your face,” Jane laughed. “Now let’s get you home before I have to pull you out of another dream.”
As she led me out of the exhibit, Ophelia turned back one last time.
Judith winked.
Writer’s Note:
This setting is loosely based on the Detroit Institute of Art. While I have never been there, I wanted to honor my home city. The art pieces mentioned were ones I found in their online gallery. Judith is from “Judith with the Head of Holofernes” by Fede Galizia and the other paintings briefly mentioned are from the “By Her Hand: Artemisia Gentileschi and Women Artists in Italy, 1500–1800” exhibit (https://www.dia.org/byherhand). The African American pieces mentioned are the “Shirley Woodson: Shield of the Nile Reflections” exhibit (https://www.dia.org/woodson) and “Quilting Time” by Romare Bearden (https://www.dia.org/art/collection/object/quilting-time-34128). The Chinese teapot is made up.
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