Moon Lace Studio
patreon
Chapter 17 & 18 - The Child in the Museum
🕑 Added 2024-10-22 14:00:04 +0000 UTCChapter 17
Amelia felt better after her rest. When she woke up, she talked a bit longer with Claudette to reaffirm everything she had just learned. It was a lot to take in, but letting her mind rest in sleep helped her to absorb the information. She had told Claudette that she wanted to take a walk to clear her mind, but in reality she wanted to revisit the portrait: her portrait. She was already halfway there, though, and realized that she didn’t quite have the courage to go to her portrait alone. She realized with a pang that Arthur wouldn’t always be here, that he had said they were only visiting for a few weeks. And how long would she be here? An eternity? This was too big of a thought to allow herself to think right now, so she pushed it away almost immediately. It was time to find her friend, and to tell him all that she had learned.
Amelia was nervous that Arthur wouldn’t accept this new information about her. It was possible he would even be afraid of her! But she wasn’t going to let this fear stop her, because too much was on the line. Her entire reality had completely shifted.
Before looking for the boy, however, Amelia decided that she should stop by the cafeteria to steal some food, as she always did for dinnertime. She passed by the stairs that led down to the cafeteria, and smelled the scent of cooking wafting up the stairs. This time, however, her body didn’t seem to have the normal sense of hunger. Curiously, Amelia took a moment to try to figure out what she was experiencing. She sat down on a bench and felt deep into herself. Was she not hungry because of all of the emotions and drama she had experienced in the last few days? Or, was she not hungry because her psyche was no longer operating under the assumption that she had a body that needed food?
She remembered the lady, Claudette, brushing her hair in front of the mirror and realized, whatever the physical needs may be, habits and routines that offered a sense of comfort were certainly meaningful and, in some cases, necessary. Taking a nap to rest her mind would be the perfect example, if in fact her body also no longer needed sleep. Claudette didn’t seem to be able to pick up the actual antique hairbrush that was always placed on the nightstand, but she brushed her hair nonetheless with a shadow version, a ghost version, it seemed. Amelia tried to picture what she had witnessed in detail in her mind, but her head seemed to ache with all she was processing. She supposed that getting away from things like headaches would take some time. But just as she no longer felt the full weight of her body on the floor, everything seemed to feel a bit different.
Amelia stood up from the bench and decided to bypass the cafeteria after all. These comforting routines could wait, and just as she had realized with the physical objects like the hairbrush, it’s possible she had never been stealing or eating the physical food all along. What was more important was finding Arthur.
The last place she had seen him was in the large space near the museum café, which happened to be near to her portrait. Her intuition, however, told her to take a different route. She would head in that direction, but go on a slight detour to go through the arms and armory section, since she had seen Arthur drawing there before.
Perhaps ghosts had stronger senses of intuition, or perhaps it was simply the lessening of her other senses that made it more pronounced, because that was exactly where she found the boy.
Arthur was standing, wistfully looking at a room filled with swords, axes, and lances.
“Arthur?” She said, softly, hoping not to scare him. For a split second, she worried that he wouldn’t be able to see or hear her. But sure enough, Arthur turned around and met her gaze.
“Hi Amelia. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to talk to you earlier…’
“It’s okay,” Amelia said, “I’m sorry I didn’t find another way to meet up with you before now. I’m really, really sorry that you got in trouble over stealing the pastry. I should have never suggested that we do that.”
“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Arthur said, “I didn’t actually get in that much trouble. I just had to help out in the kitchen for a bit and I wasn’t allowed to explore on my own for just that one day.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
Amelia paused for a moment, unsure of what exactly to say next. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. Arthur looked similarly dumbfounded. Then the idea struck her, “Listen, would you like to follow me? I have something to show you. It’s over near-ish to where your mom is drawing today.”
“Is it your portrait?” Arthur asked hurriedly, “Because I’ve seen it”
“What?” Amelia was surprised, “How?” She wondered if Arthur had just happened upon it, which would explain why he had been looking so confused and distant lately.
“Actually…” Arthur took a breath, “A ghost showed it to me. I know that might sound crazy. But a ghost, a real one. I’ve seen him twice now, in fact he was right here not too long ago, exactly where you are standing. His name is Sir Philip.”
Amelia was silent for a moment.
“If you don’t believe me,” he continued, “I know where to find him. You might be able to see him too, but I’m not really sure. It might be better if we look for him, actually, because I think he could explain things better than I can…”
“No no, it’s okay,” Amelia cut him off, “I was just speaking to a ghost today myself. A different one, a lady. I think I have a good understanding of what’s going on. I think I’m one of them…” The words tumbled out clumsily.
“A ghost?” Arthur asked. Amelia nodded, solemnly.
Arthur seemed to decide to lighten the mood, “It’s okay, I’ll still be your friend!”
Amelia laughed. She realized it was the first time she had laughed since the event in the museum cafe that had turned her world upside down. Before that, she remembered, it was the first time she had truly seen what it was like to have a good friend, someone to have fun with, that you could see everything anew with.
“I haven’t figured everything out yet. The date underneath my portrait is from a really long time ago, and like I said before, I don’t remember anything from before the museum.”
Arthur nodded, kindly, “I think it’s okay if you don’t figure everything out right away. I think it’s important for you to just understand the truth. The knight, that ghost I was telling you about, told me that once you figured it out, you would be able to see the others, and maybe you’ll be able to make a lot of new friends.”
His voice choked in his throat, as if gulping back the beginnings of a cry. Amelia pretended that she didn’t notice, but she understood how sad her predicament might seem to a real, breathing, living boy. She wondered, too, if he felt sad in a way, like he had lost a friend. She hoped not, because in a way, her situation wasn’t all that much different than it was before. In another way, she thought humorously, her life had gotten easier because she no longer needed to hide from everyone. If only children could see her, and only some children at that, then she was very safe living in the museum without running into any of the problems she was worried about before.
“I think there’s time for all of it. It sounds like I have nothing but time!” She said, with a sort of forced brightness in her voice, “I can meet your knight friend, I can meet the other ghosts, and I can learn more about the portrait and try to piece together my own past. But for now, there’s no rush, and we can just have fun, like we did before.”
Arthur and Amelia walked through the Medieval section talking, laughing, and looking at the many things to see. Amelia briefly wondered how Arthur looked, possibly talking to himself in front of the other guests and staff members who were scattered around the section, but he didn’t look concerned, so she didn’t let it worry her either.
They passed by the large Christmas tree, which was now up in the middle of the section. Arthur talked about it being the largest Christmas tree that he had ever seen, and Amelia told him about the many holiday seasons that she had spent sitting under it, pretending she had a family. Then, taking them both by surprise, they heard a huge clatter, and the breaking of glass. They instinctively hopped back to see that a number of the ornaments had fallen off of the tree and smashed on the ground, glittering fragments flying everywhere. There were yells and gasps by a handful of surprised guests, and a scream followed by sobbing from a very young girl who was very close to the foot of the tree. Very quickly, all of the nearby staff members ran to the scene, making sure that any guests were far enough back. Amelia looked at Arthur, bewildered. “What happened?” she said. Almost immediately, a staff member was asking him the same question, “Did you see what happened over here?”
“No, I didn’t.” Arthur said, “I promise, I didn’t touch the tree.”
Amelia could tell that he was afraid of getting in trouble again. The staff member easily accepted this, nodded, and moved toward a different guest.
Something beyond the tree, however, caught Amelia’s eye. It was a full grown man. A jester, actually, in a full costume, laughing on the other side. He caught her eye, gave her a wink, and began waltzing by himself in circles around the tree, narrowly missing the staff members who didn’t seem to see him at all. Amelia looked wide-eyed at Arthur. He looked back at her, his mouth agape, and he was clearly also seeing the man as well.
He wore patchwork cloth head to toe, multicolored with elaborate patterns, and a hat with long draping trails of cloth. He had bells sewn on various spots of his costume, which overall looked old and worn. He tiptoed over the broken glass and approached Arthur and Amelia. They both backed up as he came towards them, clearly wanting to keep their distance. Amelia looked around to see if there was anyone else who might be seeing him, but no one seemed to. He smiled a big grin, put his finger up to his lips as if to tell them to be quiet. With his mocking smile, however, she doubted he was actually concerned about not making a scene. She suspected that he was the one who had caused this ruckus in the first place.
The man sprung into the air, doing an impossible backwards flip, and perched himself among the branches of the Christmas tree as if he was light as a feather. He yawned, as if he was bored, and curled himself up in the tree branches. In a few moments, he had let his arm fall limply to the side and was pretending to snore, or so it seemed.
Arthur looked at Amelia with his eyebrows raised, reacting to the strange drama playing out before them.
The employees were cleaning the mess up incredibly fast, and Amelia suspected that a hazard like this had to be taken very seriously. Just as she had had the thought, she saw one of the security guards shoo-ing everyone out of the space and into the connecting rooms. Amelia caught Arthur’s eye.
“Come on, let’s go.”
He seemed to want to hang back, to see what the strange man was going to do next.
Amelia reached out her hand to pull Arthur towards the next room as he was looking away, not paying attention. To her surprise, her hand went right through his arm with no effect at all, besides a slight twitch that she may have imagined.
Amelia froze, shocked. She had learned so much about her situation, but this was the first time she had experienced it to the extent of this, and it was undeniable. Not noticing, Arthur looked back at her. “Okay, we can go.”
Amelia was still in shock. She stood still for another moment, letting her eyes fall on the jester, asleep in the tree. How did he have the power to manipulate objects in such a way? He must not be an ordinary ghost.
She gasped in realization. “That’s the poltergeist! A ghost who can move objects. Claudette told me about him. He’s the one who made the lights flicker!”
Arthur looked dumbfounded, “Claudette? Lights?”
“I’ll explain in a minute, let’s go.”
Finally, they left the space and headed back toward the European sculpture section.
“Claudette is a woman, or a ghost rather, who also lives in the French area with me. The place where I sleep at night? It’s right next to her dresser.”
Arthur still looked confused.
“And some flickering lights led me to the portrait. Claudette said it was a poltergeist, like he must have wanted to help me find it, but I don’t know why.”
“Whoever that was, it doesn’t seem like he really has a reason for doing anything. But that word you just said…”
“Poltergeist.”
“Right, that. Sir Philip mentioned him too.”
Chapter 18
The next day, Arthur’s mom was having tea in the museum café, and Arthur was snacking on some homemade muffins his mom made for him with chocolate chips. He suspected that she wanted to give him a special treat after realizing how much he wanted those sweet, sticky pastries. But, of course, she was very picky about the ingredients, so she had to make them herself. They were discussing the usual topics, like what they wanted to do for the day, if they had had any interesting dreams, plans for meeting up with his dad after he was done with his orchestra rehearsal — but Arthur’s mind was wandering all sorts of places. He had so much to process from the day before, from learning about the sword, reconnecting with Amelia, and seeing the crazy man in the Medieval section who must be the poltergeist that they had both heard of.
As his mom was finishing up her last sips out of the cardboard cup, Pat approached their table.
She looked a little different, and Arthur noticed that she had styled her hair in a new way, and maybe it was another color, too. As she came closer he decided that it was more of a maroon color. He was pretty sure her brown-ish hair shined almost green when he first saw her, and today it had a more reddish tint.
“Good morning! I’m on my break, care if I join?”
“No, no, please!” Arthur’s mom responded, cheerfully.
Pat pulled up a chair confidently, like she owned the place. She always seemed to be glowing with confidence. She gave a wave to someone in the back, and Arthur noticed out of the corner of his eye that it was Frederick.
“How are you doing today, little one?” Arthur cringed slightly at being called that, but answered her.
“Better today, I think.”
“You had so many questions yesterday!” Pat said, humorously. Arthur’s mom looked at him curiously. He could feel her eyes looking right through him.
“Oh, yes, I was just wondering about what it’s like to work on the museum staff?”
Arthur often found that if he didn’t want to talk, or wanted to distract someone from the topic at hand, it often worked to ask someone about themselves. People loved to talk about themselves, and this seemed to work like a charm.
“Oh yes, it’s my dream job. When I was in undergrad I was really hoping to be able to get a job at a museum of high caliber, and this is the very best. It’s the perfect place for researching my masters.”
“What’s your focus again?” Arthur’s mom asked, enthusiastically.
“Art History.” said Pat proudly, “I haven’t chosen my focus for my final project, there’s still time for that, and there is just so much to choose from. Working here doesn’t help! Whatever section I’m placed in each day becomes what I want to study, it’s all so great.”
“That must be the life!” His mom leaned forward, her elbows on the table.
“Oh you know it. I work all day, absorbing art and the history. I go home and I work on my studies for the schooling. I get to go down into the archives and see anything I want at any time – they allow incredible access here if you’re in the right loops, and that’s it. This,” Pat said, pulling something out of her black canvas bag, “Is my journal for my studies. I carry it everywhere, and when I have a moment where there are no guests around, I write down my observations about the art in my surroundings. I try to keep my mind sharp. No social life, no distractions. I’m like a monk.”
“You seem to be friends with that Frederick guy.” Arthur said, just to see what her reaction might be.
“What? No way, I don’t pay him any attention at all. He just works here like everyone else, nothing special.” Pat snapped quickly.
Arthur grinned, he had successfully turned the attention entirely off of himself.
Arthur’s mom raised her eyebrows at him.
“Where are you working today?” he asked, changing the subject once again.
“I’m in the musical instruments section.”
“Oh we love that section!” his mom said brightly, “Don’t we sweetie? We’ll have to visit you there, Pat, how cool! My husband is a classical musician and we love to go look at the instruments, especially the basses, so we can tell him about them.”
They continued talking for a bit as Arthur’s mind drifted. He wished he could ask Pat if she knew anything about the old Medieval swords, but he didn’t want to betray Sir Philip’s trust. He kept turning over different ways of asking her in his mind and had barely been listening to the casual conversation at hand. If she was studying art history, maybe she knew something about it, something more than the small writing on the tiny placards.
“What are you planning to draw today?” Pat asked.
“I’m thinking of trying my hand on a more architectural drawing. I want to draw that temple in the Egyptian section. Plus, I think Arthur would love to spend some time there.”
His work was already cut out for him in the Medieval section, but he wasn’t going to argue.
“Cool, cool. And what mischief do you have planned today, young man?”
He shrugged his shoulders, not in the mood for the typical banter with Pat.
An alarm went off on Pat’s phone. “Ah! It is time for me to go back to my post!”
She said, standing up and flicking on her walkie-talkie. “I’ll see you both around!”
As she walked off after their goodbyes, Arthur noticed Frederick peak out of the kitchen door. Pat didn’t look his way, and Arthur wondered if that was intentional, since he had said something.
His mom had already pulled out her sketchbook. She was flipping through each page, studying them thoughtfully, getting the charcoal on her thumbs.
“Are you ready to go yet?” He said, shifting in his seat.
“Yes, yes. One moment.”
He knew that when she said that, it could still be ages.
“I think you’re a really good artist, mom.”
“Awww, sweetie!” she exclaimed, giving him a kiss on the cheek, “Whatever made you say that? Thank you!”
Then she pulled back and squinted her eyes suspiciously, “What is it you’re trying to get away with?”
They both laughed, and his mom finally closed her sketchbook so that they could go. She grabbed the cardboard cup and cleared the table, going out of her way to find a recycling bin.
“To the Egyptian section? You are going to love it. Your dad and I really enjoy watching documentaries about Ancient Egypt. The secrets that they had, the magic, the incredible amount of knowledge. Probably so much of it has been lost! But what they have uncovered, well, I’m not sure if they should have. There are also lots of accounts of curses being put on the tombs, waiting for any thief to steal the artifacts. How are ancient Egyptian curses supposed to know the difference between a thief and an archeologist?” She laughed, “And is there a difference?”
Arthur couldn’t wait. He had wanted to go to this section for days. He remembered that Amelia was wanting to explore something within the Egyptian section, and he wondered if she would be able to find him there.
