The Fitzwilliam museum on Trumpington Street contains a wide variety of art, including paintings by van Gogh, Rubens, Constable and Reynolds as well as priceless Chinese jades and Q'ing Dynasty vases and even a sixteenth century English harpsichord in near mint condition.

None of the above caught Renee's eye to quite the extent of a fourteenth century Italian painting by an unknown artist showing a skeletal figure standing over a new born baby.  The note on the wall beside it merely says, "Artist unknown, this piece is typical of allegorical paintings in fourteenth century Italy, many of which were strongly influenced by the coming of the first wave of the Bubonic Plague.  This was probably painted between 1341 and 1360.  Similar ideas influenced early versions of the Tarot set."

Renee found herself at peace in the Fitzwilliam Museum. Recent nights have been full of fitful nightmares and torrents of emotions that threatened to drive her mad. With symbolic life and death catching her attention today, in this six hundred year old masterwork, she allowed it to fill her senses. Finding someplace comfortable, the student positioned herself to take all of the time necessary to sketch out a number of copies of the work in charcoal. Some of the copies focused on the child, others focused on the skeletal being, others looking at the interaction.

It was in the moment of interaction that Renee noticed the second skull hidden in the shadows and distorted somewhat , gazing out of the picture at the viewer while a skeletal hand beckoned to her.  She blinked though and during that tiny quantum of time, the second skeleton faded and now she could see the skeleton tearing the soul from the innocent babe and the sound of buzzing came.

But wasn't the bubonic plague caused by fleas on rats, since when did fleas buzz and why was Renee hearing buzzing now?

Renee's fingers went slack and let loose of her grip on both charcoal and pad. They fall to the ground with a clatter. She then begins to move her hands to her temples, swatting away at the sound of flies buzzing around. She scoots backwards muttering a series of no's under her breath.

The painting is on the staircase and that is where Renee was sitting and painting.  As she dropped the pad and charcoal, the former fluttered and landed three steps down while the latter tumbled down to the next landing.  Renee herself held her head and backed away, oone step, two steps, falling backward and landing on her bum as she stepped to the landing above.

There was a painful jolt as she landed and as she did so, the sound of flies disappeared.  There didn't seem to be anything damaged but clearly, there was SOMETHING in or around the painting, a malevolent presence of some kind, spirit perhaps?  It was hard to know.  Something to ask Father McGinty at her next confession assuming she ever went to confession again.

Sitting on the landing, Renee shakes for a few moments. She should be used to this by now. She should have grow out of this. All of the people she had spoken with about this sort of thing had tried to convince her that it was all in her mind. None of them had wanted to believe. Except for the Father, of course. He was at least willing to entertain the notion that she wasn't merely delusional and there might be a higher purpose to it. That would be too good to be true.

After three steadying breaths and quietly stating her families motto, "Virescit Vulnere Virtus." She begins to gather herself enough to get back to her feet. She then begins picking up her sketchbook and charcoal pieces and everything else than managed to scatter itself along the staircase.

Later in the canteen, she sat, nibbling absently at her meal as she noticed that she had been making some marks almost as if by some kind of automatic process. It wasn't exactly clear what she had been drawing but there were clues and perhaps she could extrapolate later when her mind was clearer.  There was definitely some connection with the beckoning skeletal hand but so far it waited inchoate.

Perhaps later she could finish, maybe in the safety of St Mary and the English Martyrs.