The Last Snow | Ghorror [C]

Chapter 1 | Calm Before the Storm

One of the oldest and best crafted buildings in Scranton loomed over me. From afar, it would almost look like a courthouse. As I journeyed up the many stairs leading to the doorway, I took in the path I'd soon become familiar with. That is, if I take this job. Right now I really have no other choice because there isn't a single job listing in the paper that I'm qualified for. This job wasn't in the daily print either.

Like I said, I was having problems finding a gig that I had the proper training for. Once the bills started to pile up, I knew I had to do something. I called up a few people and got nowhere. Then Chris returned my message and told me there was an opening at the museum he worked for. It was a night watchmen position. He said I'd be the only one working the nightshift if I decide to take the position. Not only do I enjoy nighttime more than daytime, but I also hate having to socialize with coworkers. It was perfect. A bonus? This wasn't a run of the mill museum; It was a villains exhibit.

It actually sounded too good to be true, and that's exactly what I'm worried about. There has to be a catch! So far, I couldn't find it. The pay was good too, and it was walking distance from my apartment. It was perfect. Something's gotta be wrong with it.

With these thoughts of caution staining my mind, I threw open the heavy front door. The museum a little later than most because it's not exactly what you'd consider for a school field trip. Doors for the public opened at 11AM. It was about a half hour until then. As I walked in, I couldn't help but gawk at the lobby. Most museums have a T-Rex in the entrance. This one had a fucking life size model of a Decepticon. I'm not really that knowledgable on Transformers, but I assume it was Megatron.

I kept walking past the giant robot, looking for a soul to speak to. Chris said he'd meet me in the front. Where the fuck is he?

"Ricky?" I heard a familiar voice call, but it wasn't that of Chris'. I spun towards me right and saw Angelo's sweet face as he walked from the west hallway. He cast a glowing smile, "What are you doing here?"

I walked towards him and met him with a hug. Upon parting, I replied, "I came to talk to Chris about a job. Where is he?"

"He's with the delivery guy outback." Angelo began to walk and I presumably followed. "We're building a new exhibit of video game villains."

"You don't sound too thrilled about it." I snickered.

He replicated the same bland chuckle I had given, "You know me. I like the classic horror villains from movies. I'm not really into this new age shit."

"I can understand that. How many exhibits are you guys up to now?" I asked.

"Fuck," He scoffed, "Too many to count. I'd say there's about twelve or so figurine exhibits, which are the important ones. My favorites are the galleries about like Alfred Hitchcock and Tobe Hooper, but kids these days don't want to read a wall about some old guy. I think the painting in there creeps people out too."

I scrunched my face in concern, "I can't remember what painting it is. It's been so long since I've been here."

"It's in the part of the exhibit about Stephen King. There's a painting of the, well in his stories it's referred to as The Crimson King and a bunch of other names, but it's The Devil." Angelo explained.

He pushed open the door we had reached, which lead out to a small warehouse type of area with with an open loading dock. There were workers carrying in wood crates, about the size of the men carrying them. Because of the open bay door, the winter air was filling a storage room that already lacked heating. I pulled my leather jacket closed, running the zipper about halfway up my chest.

Angelo lead me to the edge of the loading dock, where Chris was carefully watching the delivery men. This museum is his livelihood. I understand why he's so serious about it, but sometimes it seems like he worries too much. He managed to crack a smile when he saw me.