R. K. Strange
Bio
Nothing makes me happier than entertaining others with my imagination
Stories (1/0)
Human History
The old museum was dimly lit. The night wind howled through the broken windows near the entrance. It was here that Oliver knew he would find the man who took his wife. Before the collapse, this museum was an ode to our history. Now none of that seemed to matter. Oliver peered around the lobby, which was dimly lit by a few candles on the welcome desk. Graffiti spoiled the walls around him. The place was run down, dirty and dismal, a grim reminder of what we used to be. Oliver vaulted a rusted, old turnstile, but his foot slipped and moved it slightly with a loud creak. Suddenly, the PA system crackled to life and a glitched out voice echoed through the empty halls.
By R. K. Strange3 years ago in Fiction