Day 439

They say it was once a museum, that it held all the treasures of the world before it went dark.
Jewels that shone like stars, paintings that sang back to you and statues that devoured life.
Of course these are all stories and nobody can figure out how to get past the ornate doors anyhow.
Doesn't stop us from dreaming though.

Certainly doesn't stop us from pressing our ears against the doors and hearing old songs.
When the blackouts came, the world's top priorities were sealing the museums.
They shut staff and visitors alike inside, attached some kind of emergency feeding system too.
Said it was due to contagions among the artefacts but the off-duty staff soon spoke up.

The off-duty staff soon went missing and the old songs were sung louder.
The power never came back on and the museums became places of worship instead.
People were given regularly to trough the emergency feeding system and in return word came out.
It was small things at first, the names of those who were still alive.

Soon after came the names of those who had died and how.
Then the statues began making their demands - tools to remove the barricades.
They managed to evoke such pity that their demands were met within hours and the barricades
were weakened, torn apart piece by piece.

The people rejoiced at first, the music was clearer than ever and they felt hope for the first time
since the blackouts took normality and societal structure away.
Almost two weeks later the ornate doors were found thrown off their hinges.
The museum's interior was exposed for all to see.

Corpse were strung from frames that still gorged themselves, laughing and singing all the while.
Staff members, visitors and sacrifices lay dying or where they had died, limbless and in agony.
The distant sound of concrete scraping stone grew louder as the statues made their grande entrance.
They wore gore like haute couture as they ambushed the outside world.