Gone and Forgotten - Short Stories

The Museum

She walked through the empty halls of the museum. Her museum. She never liked when it was full of people - but it always was, so that was probably as it should be. At night, though, it was her domain.

She wandered the halls, making sure everything was in its proper place - she didn't know why, but she always did, so it was probably as it should be. She knew everything under the museum's majestic vaulted ceilings by heart, by name - it was, after all, her museum.

She walked through a cold and empty hallway, with big glass doors that lead to balconies that looked out over the gardens far below. She went to each door, one by one, feeling the cold metal handles and noting they were locked - but they always were, so that was as it should be.

She walked on, door after door, handle after handle - but as she put her hand on the handle of the last door, it moved under the pressure, and the door slowly creaked open. She frowned. It wasn't supposed to do that.

Slowly, she stepped through the door and onto the balcony - she had never been on the balcony before. She didn't think she liked balconies. But, apart from the misbehaving door, everything seemed to be in order, so she began to turn back towards her museum - but as she cast one last look into the darkness, the darkness looked back.

He was a thin, slender thing, sitting in the garden far below. She had never seen him before, either - he didn't belong in her museum, that much was clear. She stepped towards the railing, leaning forward into the darkness to get a better look at him - but then he stood up.

His eyes, earlier so far below her, were suddenly looking down at her, like an owl sitting in the great tree that cast its shadow over the garden in the soft moonlight. He looked at her for a moment with curious eyes, then stretched out a long, slender hand and placed on the railing a beautiful red flower. She took it in her hands - she had never seen anything like it before. The flowers had always been so far away, and the paintings in the galleries below had never come close to picturing their true beauty.

She looked up at him - she wanted to thank him, to tell him how lucky he was to live among such beautiful flowers - but she didn't know how. She simply leaned out towards him, wishing he would come to her...

Footsteps rang through the empty hallways, and in a blink, he was gone. She knew it was the night-guard approaching - and he always did, so that was as it should be. She cast one last look into the darkness, then turned and ran back into her museum. She heard a shout behind her, and she knew she was being followed. She ran and ran, not thinking, not looking, just running, until...

The guard watched on in horror as she plunged down the cold and dark stairway. He rushed down to see if anything could be done to help, but there was nothing more to find than a withered rose lying on the stone floor.

⁂

She walked through the empty halls of the museum. Her museum. She despised the crowds of daytime, but at night, it was her domain.

She walked out through the door and onto the balcony, as she always did. She took a deep breath, letting the cool garden air wash over her, then picked up the lonely rose lying on the railing. She didn't know why it was there - but it always was, so it was probably as it should be.