As the word got around, people came to the museum especially to see him. He was a one-man show. There to entertain.
At first, he merely hung about the installations in a ballroom-like space. Moving from one set to another. Acting like a hunter spearing a wolf, or sharpening a tool made of stone, or scratching two rocks to ignite a stack of twigs. But after a few days of this, he soon tired of the routine. The forced stillness was contrary to the freedom he felt in his bones. The urge to move about, interact. To experience everything anew. And not just linger in a corner and wither away into the evening when everybody went home, the museum was sealed closed, and he returned to the streets. To the life of a nobody.
He was more than done with this life.
Got my horror/suspense drabble, The Mist, published on The Drabble. This is my second piece here (first was Hostiles). It’s a good place for small pieces, 100 words or less. Not many out there. So discovering this place was such a delight — for not all stories are destined to be novels.
If you know of any other mags (online, offline) that accept short shorts, micros, drabbles, etc., do share below in comments :). Thanks for reading!
As he bit through what was left of a half-chewed apple salvaged from a dumpster, he saw an ad for a peon at the City Museum of Natural History lying face up in a pizza box, stuck to some rotting cheese on the lid. It was a sign from God. And he thought, why not? He had nothing to do till lunch. And however it turned out, he had nothing to lose either. Not even his dignity. Which had been the first to go anyways.