It had all started when the strange, silent looking gentleman stood by the doorway, and simply just passed on a sealed envelope to Veronica, before walking away as silently as he had arrived- down the tree lined streets, near Veronica's home.

Veronica reaching her late 20's, her girlish looks faintly appearing on her attractive but bored face, stared at the envelope, tied with a simple red ribbon, with the curious handwritten letters stating her name, before she closed the door and entered her home again.

Suburbia hardly suited Veronica, neither did the large wood paneled mansion, she called home, but often thought was more like a mausoleum. A monument to her husbands parents, rather then to them, as she wondered through the gloomy passageways of the silent, and cold house.

A clock ticked gently, echoing across the hallway, slow ticks to Veronica, who longed for adventure again, instead of the slow, secure life of a wealthy suburbanite. As she gazed at the envelope in her hand, wondered about the well dressed and rather old fashioned looking gentleman who delivered it to her.

Irritated by the steady ticking noise of the clock, her husband proudly remarked to guests as being a family heirloom, dating back to the days before the 19th century, Veronica sighed, and eagerly tore open the finely made envelope, as if some long overdue curiosity has been awoken, after the months of suburban anonymity.

There before her eyes, a finely hand written invitation in silver no less, was revealed inside the now torn envelope," You are invited as an honored guest to the Screen Cafe at 2pm this afternoon."

Veronica looked uneasily at the invitation, as a copy of the address and a printed map fell into her hands. An address she barely recognized, but looking at the invitation again, she drifted into wondering what the Screen Cafe, was?

Putting down the invitation inside her bedroom, upon the messy table were Veronica kept her fine perfumes, and other bits and bobs. Veronica hastened to get ready, anxious to leave the cold, silent house which she shared alone with her busy husband, and the memories of his relatives past.

Dressing in her most trendy but conservative clothes, Veronica brushed her long dark hair, gazing at the mirror. Spotting the girl inside her, as she had slowly aged, matured in a feminine way, and remained as attractive as ever. An attraction her partner barely noticed nowadays, with business being so difficult, and his company planning to move East.

Veronica, gladly passed the fading pictures of ancestors past, along the hallway, feeling their stern cold eyes gaze upon her with disapproval. Feeling a chill, she stepped out the house, jumped into her car, and never looked back.

She drove through the city, which once was great. Now a shadow of its great industrial past, with abandoned buildings, overgrown parks and a feeling of gloom as shabby looking locals walked unsteadily in the now grim city center. Towards the now shady country roads, and into a brighter yet disturbing countryside, were wheat crops grew lazily, oblivious to time.

Turning down a steep lane, she drove fast, anxious to visit the Screen Cafe, wondering who else would be there, and perhaps even the faint chance of meeting someone for an interesting chat. And there as she passed an abandoned farm building, she saw slightly in dismay an elegant gathering of people, sat outside a hastily put up marquee, with the faint sound of music in the distance.

As she parked, an usher opened her car door, smiling briefly and welcoming her. He took her invitation and walked with her with a solemn politeness to an empty table. Veronica sat down, and observed the scene. Most guests were alone, some sipping coffee, others looking bewildered as guests seem to be ushered into the marquee, and then simply just leave.

Ordering a coffee, Veronica listened to the haunting yet hypnotic music, angry with herself for coming to such a dreary gathering. Casting a glance towards her neighbor, looking as bewildered as herself, who just answered with a polite smile.

Toying with her hair, Veronica tried to look inside the marquee, as the music seemed to relax her, soothing her initial irritation. The usher, came over and politely whispered, "Madame, please come into the Marquee."

For some reason, Veronica finished sipping her coffee, and followed the usher, unsure whether this was a joke, as she entered the bare marquee, seeing only empty canvasses hanging on its walls. She faintly laughed, not even feeling annoyed. "A joke," she thought," an exhibition by some desperate artist seeking customers like herself.

The tall, thin usher just led her to a blank canvas, and whispered faintly,

"Stare into the canvas, Madame, empty all your fears, and you will paint a picture."

Veronica looked back in disbelief at the serious looking man, but something inside her said play along with him, as she stood there and gazed into the blank canvas. Yet as she stared faint colors slowly changed the canvas, she focused more, bringing all her inner feelings into the canvas.

The faint blue paint, turned into a darker blue, with black patches appearing on the edges of the canvas, as the image of Veronica appeared on the canvas, in different colors, showing her lime green eyes, and curvy lips, as if it was her inside the canvas.

By now Veronica was focused intently on the growing picture on the canvas, as her slim, naked body appeared, Veronica showing no embarrassment, curiosity overcoming any initial uneasiness. She giggled, as each intimate part appeared on the canvas, each birthmark, each scratch and bump she knew well.

Besides her, the canvas was a mass of confused colors as if it expressed all her doubts, feelings and disappointments. Until the fine canvas was completed, as Veronica stared at her naked, true self on the canvas before her.

The usher quietly lifted the canvas, and covered it with a silk cloth, handing it to her and asking her to follow, out of the back of the marquee. Veronica followed clasping the painting, unsure what or who painted such a lifelike portrait of her. Absorbed in the beauty she held, as she left the Marquee, and was led silently to her Lexus

For some reason she felt there was no reason to speak, as she gently placed the portrait in the backseat, bade the silent and now grim looking usher goodbye, as she turned on the engine and speed back to the house she slowly started to feel hate for. Unknown to Veronica, underneath the silken cloth, the portrait changed, as she sped through the dilapidated city, into the suburbs again.

That night she hung the portrait in her bedroom, where she giggled as she pulled away the silk cloth that had hidden the painting. She moved back in shock, as the painting had changed, the colors were brighter, she looked flirty and playful now. Veronica sat on the bed, and gazed at the portrait before her.

She hesitated as it seemed to change according to her moods, and the more she stared, the sudden playful image turned into one of fear, for the portrait was like a mirror of her changing emotions and moods. Now darkened, her lime green eyes dulled with fear, as dark paint crept around the nude-but unsure image of Veronica.

Listening to her husbands car pull slowly into the driveway, the sound of stones cracking underneath the heavy tires of his car, running nervously to the changing portrait, covering up with the silken cloth and stumbling into the hallway, rushing now to hide it inside one of the unused bedrooms.

There she placed it facing the wall, and rushed back, trying to hide her nerves as Jack walked into the house, an intense cold chill, surrounding her as she calmed down and headed to welcome him home....

That night she hardly slept, her dreams were always of the canvas, hidden in the bedroom, her fears of what she could see in the morning, as Jack noisily slept oblivious to her restless sleep.

Jack left early, without awakening her, as Veronica slept in, waking up exhausted. Dragging herself out of bed, not thinking about the restless night before, and the strange portrait she had hid. But her fears grew as she realized that all was not a dream, when Veronica nervously entered the spare bedroom, finding the portrait still facing the blank wall, were you left it.

Her anxious eyes stared at it with a mixture of fear and curiosity, as she slowly stood over it and peaked into the portrait. Now darkened, her image of fear, mixed with slight frustration, and she sat there hunched against the wall, just staring as her expression changed on the canvas. The painting a mirror of her feelings, as she cringed unable to look away from it.

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City of Dreams http://www.amazon.com/Extraordinary-Journey-Indonesias-Capital-ebook/dp/B004TMMYEU by Mark Medley