The guard stared at the wall slack-jawed. This was a nightmare. A catastrophe.
He sprinted down the hallway to find the manager.
"Monsieur Bisset! Come quickly! Dépêchez-vous!"
Bisset slowly got up from his desk, annoyed at his sudden separation from his morning coffee.
The guard tugged at his sleeve, pulling him toward the bare spot on the museum wall. He could not speak, he only pointed frantically.
Bisset studied the empty frame for a moment, eyeing the discolored wall where the Mona Lisa once hung. He let out a wail of dispair.
"My God!" he yelped. "This painting has been hanging crooked all these years!"
YOU ARE READING
Century Chronicles
Historical FictionHistory is retold (with a little license) 100 words at a time.
