Saint

Who ever would believe a tale about a tearful portrait? Art expert and critic Owen Oliver found the idea laughable. Countless works of art have myths attached to their often dubious history.

This story of a crying Saint Monica, it sounded to Oliver like so many before. Someone sees something, perhaps after too much parrish wine, and soon the hordes appear to witness miracles.

Skeptical by nature, Oliver scoffed at the myth's details rumoured down for a century: only certain nights of the year- some speculate according to the varying level of Saint Monica's cosmic pain- at deadstrike of midnight, say those who've witnessed, a slight, pale blue tear descends from the blessed Saint's eye, while wheeling, troubled heavens cry out in frightful unison.

Most entertaining, Oliver nervously thought, going home after working late, about to walk past the darkened gallery chamber where Saint Monica's portrait slumbered, a stroke before twelve o'clock, no less, Oliver chuckled.

Yer, for all of his hubris and indignant doubt, in the privacy of his own faceless shadows, esteemed art critic Oliver was just too afraid to find out.