Eridanus ~ A Collection Of Short Stories

Arcane Antiques

A large number of people still associate museums with lonely, boring buildings concerning a bunch of either dead, or very old people.

Despite this charming notion, the Millennial Museum still attracted hundreds of visitors every day. From a very young age, I had been fascinated by the those ancient manuscripts, historic stamp collections, and rusted iron tools used by people centuries ago. I was the typical history enthusiast that nobody believed existed until they saw a collection of old bones at my house.

Alright, maybe I don't collect bones, but I did work for a company involved in a similar business.

Arcane Antiques was a company that dealt with artefacts, antiques and other articles of historic significance, collecting and managing such items from all over the world. The antiques we were interested in were mostly those of supernatural significance.

Our collection included a replica of the original Holy Grail. We had collected the Ballista Balls of Roman origin (that had brought heavy financial downfalls to three previous owners, who had gotten rid of the Balls to end their bad luck).

Our latest collection included the Thomas Busby chair, which had been the cause of death for three people who had sat on it, owing to a supposed curse by its original owner.

Our company worked with the Millennial Museum, managing their collection for them and even conducting curated tours for visitors at the museum who had a passion for the supernatural. We had several offices across the country, collaborating with different museums in various cities. However, the mob of visitors and constant buzz of excited discussion soon trickled down at the museums, and we had only one thing to thank for that.

The Coronavirus.

The pandemic had people scurrying away from places of thronging crowds, like spiders scuttling away from an eagle. Naturally, museums were turned into dark, abandoned buildings, and the Millennial Museum was no exception.

The employees of Arcane Antiques received a mail from the boss, who informed us that all work would now be shifted online and we'd have to work from home. It took a while for us to figure out how exactly we'd deal with Egyptian tablets from our laptops at home, but we eventually figured it out.

In less than two months, our company had expanded its reach, and we were now conducting virtual tours around museums for history enthusiasts.

"To the left, we have the Basano Vase. Created by an Italian woman on her wedding night, it was found in her right hand that very night with her lifeless corpse," I spoke as Maya, a colleague of mine, proceeded with the virtual tour.

These online, curated sessions were a huge hit with the people, and my colleagues and I conducted one every day, with two of us managing the tour at a time.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I must say, we've been adjusting to this new situation incredibly well," Mr Mikaelson announced during his online debriefing one afternoon with his employees. "I see that the virtual tours have gained fame over the past months."

"The visitors have increased by 25% from last month, Sir," Giana reported, glancing at her screen. Mikaelson nodded with a pleased smile.

"Another thing coming up is the Reming Auction," he continued. "The auction for the Indian idols next week is expected to attract several private collectors, so make it count." Several people nodded, their faces marked with the determination of businesspeople.

"Now, the 'Anguished Man' painting from Cumbria–"

"Excuse me, Sir?" I cut in. "About paintings, what about the Bernardo de Galvez portrait? It needs to be handed over to the Art Department at the Millennial Museum in three days," I stated, referring to the Spanish portrait of a military leader. It was known for causing blurry photographs if people approached it without the permission to take pictures. The portrait had been lent to us by a Spanish company, for three weeks.