It was a Tuesday, and my class and I were at the National Museum to watch some Renaissance paintings and sculptures. My best (and only) friend Kim was home sick, so I didn’t have anyone to talk to.
The guide showed us into a large room full of sculptures. She started to talk about the one closest to us; two women without arms and legs who were leaning their heads on each other. I didn’t think it was neither beautiful nor interesting, and got bored quite fast.
I looked at my classmates, the most of them seemed to be bored too, only a few had all their attention directed towards the guide. Our teacher definitely had all his attention on the guide, everybody knew he was totally sold on the Renaissance era.
Nobody cared about me, and I, bored as I was, moved closer to a large sculpture near me. This one was a full-size, almost naked man who sat down at the ground looking at something (at the moment my teachers horrible shoes) with a thoughtful expression on his marvelled face.
There was some dirt on his elbow, and I am very pedantic so I had to remove it. Quickly, I leaned forward and scratched it away, but the ring I had on my middle finger fell off. It hit the ground with a low noise and rolled in under the statue. The ring was one of my favourites; brand new and green, and I didn’t wanted to lose it, but I couldn’t take it now.
We had been given strict orders that we were not allowed to touch the sculptures, and the rest of the class were moving towards the door, and I hurried after them.
I had to get the ring later, but I didn’t mind. The museum weren’t far from my house, and with Kim home sick, I hadn’t anything planned for this afternoon.
However,it didn’t end up like that. My mum and dad were working late, so I had to be home with my younger siblings for a couple of hours. Mum didn’t came home until it was dark outside, and I wasn’t sure that the museum was still open. But I decided to give it a try. I really wanted my ring back.
The museum was dark when I arrived, but when I tried to open the door, was it unlocked. The entrée hall was dark and deserted, and no one answered my weak ”Hello”. Determined to do this as quickly as possible, I walked fast through the hall and upstairs. My steps echoed in the silence.
When I came into the right corridor, I heard a noise from the sculpture room. Or, I think I heard a noise, maybe it was just my imagination, because the museum were creepy and I weren’t supposed to be there. Slowly I moved forward to the doorway and looked inside.
It looked exactly the same like when I was here earlier, except the darkness that now filled the room. Only the light from the exit signs shined brightly. I zigzagged between the sculptures to the man who looked at the ground. Maybe it was my imagination again, but he looked more alive than before. All the sculptures looked more alive!
”No, they’re only sculptures; dead stone” I said to myself. But then I heard eerie whisperings, first low, but they become louder and louder. I was really scared now, and ran the last few steps. I leaned down and stretched out my arm and grabbed the ring. When I felt that I had it safely in my hand, I sat up and felt a cold hand grabbing my arm.
I screamed and tried to free myself, but the hand pulled me up and turned me around. When I saw who hold me, I stopped to scream. No sound came over my lips. It was the sculpture.
He – it – took a harder grip on me, but I didn’t put up a fight. I was to frightened. When he pulled me across the room I heard the whisperings clearer. I didn’t understand them, but I recognised the language as French, German and something that could have been Latin.
I looked around to find the source, and I almost fainted. It was the other sculptures. If I wasn’t so scared, would I maybe have figured it out already, but my brain didn’t work as it used to.
The sculpture took me into another, smaller room, with paintings on the walls and a glass case in the middle, from which it came a strange rasping noise.
He released me, and I stood petrified on the floor, staring at the painting in front of me. It was of a small boat, a rowboat, that five men rowed, and in the front stood the captain. He looked straight into my eyes and started to talk with a rough voice.
”Welcome, mortal, we have waited for you.”
My whole body shouted at me to run, but I was paralysed by the the captain’s voice, and my brain couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Paintings cannot talk, sculptures cannot move and people only say things like that in movies.
”But this is the reality”, said a small voice inside my head. ”And it is happening.”
”You see, we’re all trapped in here, look.” the captain continued and pointed at the glass case. My head turned automat-ically to look inside it. Four old violins was laying there, and it was from them the rasping sound came.
”The most special are the most lonely. God, I pity the violins. In glass coffins, they keep coughing, they’ve forgotten how to sing...” The captains voice faded away but the echo lingered in the room. Thenhe continued talking with new strength.
”And you are my ticket away from this curse. We can only go away if somebody takes our place, because the paintings cannot hang here empty, right?”
While he was talking, I started to shake without control. I could barely think a coherent thought, less control my body. What was happening to me?
The captain didn’t mind my shakings, he spoke as casually as he was talking about the weather.
”You maybe wonder why we don’t just change place with all the visitors to the museum, but they’re all here at the day. The light hurts and paralyses us, something you soon will feel, so during the daytime we’re helpless. But tomorrow am I going to be like any other human, and you’re not”
Suddenly I felt a intensive pain in my chest, and all I could see was a blurry fog.
But I could hear the whisperings clearer than ever. Now they sang something in English.
”We’ll keep hanging in our gold frames for forever, forever and a day. All the rowboats in the oil paintings, we keep trying to row away, row away”
I didn’t know what was up and what was down and started feel sick. The pain spread into my arms and stomach too.
”First there’s lights out, then there’s lock up, masterpieces serving maximum sentences. It’s our own fault for being timeless, there’s a price you pay and a consequence.”
I felt like like the world was spinning, like I was in a roller-coaster that never was going to end and it only got worse.
”All the galleries, the museums, here’s your ticket welcome to the tombs.”
The whispering song weren’t just a sound anymore. It was everywhere; everything. It surrounded me and pulled me closer and captured me.
”They're just public mausoleums, the living dead fill every room.”
~~~
I am quite alone here with all the old Renaissance people, and forever is a very long time. Would you please join me here?
Just go to the museum at night...
All the words in italics is from a song called ”All the rowboats” by Regina Spektor.
