Sunday, December 12, 2010

Edison's Dream ~ Chapter Three ~ Part Two

Edison’s body ached tremendously. He found it difficult just to stand up on his feet. When he did, he tried to move his arms and his legs, but could not. “What’s going on here?” he asked, opening his eyes. “Where might I be now?” As he took a quick look around, he noticed he was enclosed inside of a rectangular glass case. The walls and ceilings were decorated with yellow, painted on bricks. Fake sand was scattered across the floor. “I must get out of here!” Edison blurted out. He tried to move, but again he was not able to. He soon discovered that his body was covered in paper mache. “Trying to escape is a foolish act.” a voice exclaimed. Edison gasped. “Who said that?” Nothing but mannequins sat to his left and right. “Would you happen to be the newest victim?” the voice asked. “If you are, then look to the left of you.” Although hesitant at first, Edison turned his head to the left and saw a mannequin whose head was facing him. He too was covered in paper mache from the neck down. “Did you just speak to me?” asked Edison. The mannequin blinked its eyes. “I did. I don’t get to speak very often.” Edison shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “But… you’re just a statue, how are you able to communicate?” The mannequin gave a seldom smile. “That is because I am not a statue. I am a person.” Edison’s jaw dropped. He could not believe what he was hearing. “The curator of this museum kidnapped me many years ago. I am forced to live my life as an exhibit.” The person continued. “Curator… That caravan… Those masks… Those statues…” Edison drifted off. “You must tell me all that you know. Who is this curator? What is this place?” he asked. “This is the Wanderer’s Museum. It is owned by a deranged man who calls himself Dmitri Downs.” The person responded.

Edison shook his body every which way, with hopes of destroying the paper mache. Luckily, the paper covering his left arm ripped apart, so he used to unravel it off of his body. As he reached for his scabbard to draw his sword, he discovered that both of his weapons were missing. He turned back to the person covered in paper mache. “What happened to my sword and shield?” he asked. The person didn’t respond. His head was tilted back and his eyes were shut. Edison searched around the whole exhibit for something to smash the case open, but found nothing. “Well this is just perfect!” He said, kicking one of the walls. When he did this, a small crack formed in the wall. He kicked it again, and the crack became larger. “Perhaps now I can escape!” He shouted, kicking the wall even harder than before. The bottom half of the wall surrounding the crack collapsed, and formed a narrow tunnel. Although hesitant at first, Edison embraced himself and stepped inside of it. Everything seemed normal to him at first, until something made him look up. A passage was written on the ceiling. I see you’re trying to leave so soon. That’s no fun, you haven’t met your doom!

As soon as Edison read this, he raced through the rest of the tunnel, and eventually ended up in the main hallway. He scurried over to an arch-shaped door which he assumed was the museum’s entrance. Very carefully, he reached his hand out and tried the door handle. It didn’t budge. “Here we go…” he said. When he touched the handle again, a long metal bar swung down from the wall to the left of the door. “You don’t think you’ll be leaving that easily do you?” A deep voice echoed throughout the hall. “And who might you be?” asked Edison, his voice slightly cracking. The voice didn’t answer back. “Speak to me this instant!” he shouted. No answer. “That will not do you any good.” Another voice remarked. Edison’s cheeks turned bright red. He looked all around him. No one appeared to be standing in the hallway. “Look this way, chap.” The voice said. Edison turned to the left, where an exhibit with the inscription Man of Greed was situated. It contained a statue of a man sitting on a throne, with doubloons scattered across the ground. The case was decorated with red velvet curtains. The voice spoke again. “You never thought a statue could speak, did you?” Edison stared at it in disbelief. The statue turned his head towards him. “I haven’t always been this way,” it said, “I was once a wealthy and respected man, living in luxury in my home that lies far to the east. Unfortunately, the curator kidnapped me and made me into a statue. He called me the Man of Greed.” Edison stepped closer to the exhibit. “Why exactly were you kidnapped?” he asked. “The curator wanders the world, searching for people to use as exhibits. I suppose I was one of those people…” the statue replied, slowly propping its head up. “It’s a miracle that you were able to escape. However, no one may leave the Wanderer’s Museum unless the curator has been defeated.” Edison absorbed everything the statue told him. “I shall put a stop to his madness!” he decided. The statue watched him as he walked down the hallway. "Be careful, young warrior..." he whispered.

Edison's Dream will continue January 2011...


Emma Michaels said...

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Emma Michaels

Margaret Benbow said...

I enjoy this wildly imaginative piece so much. Please post again soon!

Susan R. Mills said...

Nice! Thanks for stopping by my blog. I look forward to getting to know you better when I return from my break. :)

Samantha Vérant said...

Great piece! I'll look forward to the continuation in the new year. Happy holidays, ho, ho, ho, and all that jazz!

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