The best part of the museum was that it was dark. The old, crusted-over windows blinked in sudden sunlight, and looked pretty enough, but he liked the darkness. It was, after all, his namesake. As he wandered through the forgotten old hallways, he looked upon the paintings that hung there, old pictures of even older humans, some he knew, some he didn't. A cold wind blew through the cracks in the old museum ceiling, making him shiver. He looked up at them, wondering how much it would cost to fix. More than he had, surely.
He wrapped his arms around himself. "Wishes are dangerous things." he reminded himself, whispering. Someone had said that to him, a long time ago. He hadn't listened, then. But now? He was still listening. Carefully listening, to all around him. The stillness all around him. He wished that they were still here. That they hadn't left him here to die. He coughed, exhaling the stale dusty air. The statues gallery, or what was left of it, loomed ahead. A marble bust of Zeus stared at him. "what?" he muttered. it didn't answer. "What are you looking at?" he yelled at it, whipping his arm out to to push the statue off of it's pedestal.
His arm went right through.
His name was Adrien, and he was dead.
YOU ARE READING
Dark Imaginations
Fantasy"The Darkness was his namesake." Adrian lives in an old museum. He's alone, in the dark. This is his story. Cover by: RadicalCyborgDude
