27 Feb The Scream

Posted at 11:11h in Strange and Unexplained by CreepypastaStories.com 0 Comments

📅 Published on February 27, 2026

“The Scream”

Written by J.C. Fields
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

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🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

⏰ ESTIMATED READING TIME — 3 minutes

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I’ve been planning this project for three years. A syndicate of investors have already provided the $200,000 in capital I needed. Why? Because I promised them a 250% return on their money. Suckers.

You see, I know where I can get my hands on one hundred and twenty million dollars in famous paintings. I know where the paintings are going to be on a specific date, I know which ones to take, and I already have a buyer, who will take them sight unseen.

I’m an art thief. One of the best, ever.

Currently, I am hiding in my sanctuary deep in the basement of a museum. It took me a year to prepare this room. Now all I have to do is wait for the exhibition hall to close and I will emerge. It’s Saturday night. The place will have no visitors and no personnel present tomorrow and Monday. Their so-called security guard greedily accepted the money I offered him. He is presently on his way to an island in the Mediterranean. The building is deserted, except for me.

At midnight, a small transit van will be parked at the loading dock. The driver will walk away and disappear. He will never see me. He, too, has been well paid.

Not one of the individuals assisting, can identify me. Nor do they have knowledge of the others helping with the plan. It was designed that way. Everyone got their instructions via text message or USPS. If any are caught by the authorities, they won’t be able to identify who hired him or why. Only I know the full scheme.

Well, midnight has come and I’m leaving the security of my bunker deep within the lower basement of the museum. It is now time to move the art pieces to the loading dock.

* * * * * *

I chose this particular museum because it contains three versions of Edvard Munch’s The Scream. My client wants all three. Combined, their value at auction would be close to 500 million US dollars. He offered me 120 million. Since they would be going into his private collection, this was an excellent deal for me. I would give my investors 50 million and I would walk away with a cool 70 million, tax free dollars. And then, disappear.

If you are unfamiliar with The Scream, this is the painting of a man standing in a road with his hands pressed to his face. The distorted figure along with the blood red sky in the back ground, gives the portrait and eerie persona.

It is said, that Edvard Munch possessed a haunted soul with a family history of mental illness. Looking at his paintings, I have to agree with the assessment.

The paintings are also, quite fragile. They are stored in a refrigerated storage vault on the same level as my sanctuary. I haven’t seen them yet, but I know they are there. I have access to the facilities computer inventory.

Time to emerge.

My first obstacle is the electronic lock on the storage vault. It’s not really a hindrance, just an annoyance. Money talks and their IT team is sorely underpaid. With the help of a cash strapped computer nerd, I have the information needed to open the electronic lock.

Movement activates the vaults lights. When the room is illuminated, my senses are assaulted by the presence of the images on canvas. A shiver runs up my spine as I gaze at the paintings. I am overcome by a wave of vertigo and lose my balance. Almost falling to the floor.

This close to the paintings, I can feel the authors madness. It is like an invisible force pushing down on me. Suddenly I feel exhausted and back out of the room. The feeling instantly dissipates. Leaning against the wall on the outside of the vault helps the world stop spinning, but the weariness persists. All of my research on the paintings did not mention a supernatural aura surrounding them.

I slide down the wall and sit with my back against it. Closing my eyes, the vertigo returns, only this time I am standing on the road with the swirling colors in the sky. I can see two men standing on the boulevard ahead and I call out to them. They neither turn or acknowledge my presence.

Maybe that was what Munch was trying to relay in his painting. That we are all utterly alone in this world, with no one to hear our screams.

I have no idea how much time elapsed. When I open my eyes again, I’m back in the room outside the vault. Once I stand, I can see into the room holding the paintings. The vertigo returns, but not as powerful as before. Taking a deep breath, I step into the room. Time to move them to the loading dock area of the museum.

I grab one by the frame and lift it off the display stand.

The world spins. The vertigo returns, only with vengeance. I have no sense of up or down.

To tell you the truth, I’m having to question my own sanity. My hands are pressed against my face and I am trying to scream. The reason? I am staring at the vault door from inside the painting.