Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
STORY STARTER
Ron Primrose
Write a story set in a gallery or museum where only one item is exhibited.
Writings
Emery had heard all the rumors, but she needed to see it in person. The entire city was abuzz with a new painting by their very own Becker Davis. He had gone from a nobody to a local celebrity to an internationally acclamied artist.
Emery paused when she approached the museum’s front steps. She covered her head with a stocking cap, pulled the hood of her jacket up, and slid her sunglasses over he...
Finally the day came which I was waiting for desperately. Finally I shouted . My father dropped me off at the famous museum of the world .  It looked like a a castle of a wonderfully rich queen . I opened that heavy door I entered feeling like a princess, that door automatically closed behind me. My expectations were so high I expected painting’s by old famous artists, old pottery and buildings...
I wished to be held like a prized possession.
Isolated.
Away.
Too perfect to touch.
And I wanted to be at the top of the podium.
Second,
And third,
Too far away to compare.
And I wanted the whole world,
My friends
And family
To revolve around me like I was the earth…
Needed to nurture.
Needed to give.
But my talents and egoism
Were no use in the real world.
And others left me
When I kept choos...
Rachel absent-mindedly brushed some dust off the plinth. She glanced at her fingers before wiping it off with her other hand as she continued, equally absent-mindedly and on auto-pilot, reciting her speech to the visitors. About 20 tourists were gathered around her, examining the curious object that stood on the plinth in the middle of this large room. They listened intently as she spoke about the...
As I entered the museum alone, I noticed that there was no one else in the building except for a couple of gaurds. I walked around trying to see anything of interest but found nothing.
The building was devoid of any objects or arts except for one thing at the middle of the museum. It shone on a pedestal. It had nothing gaurding it except for a glass top.
The object inside was not only weird but ...
Walk to the end of the room and on the wall is a small white plaque with the words “dedicated to you” egraved deep.
Turn your head and to the left of the plaque is two small switches.
Flick them and watch as all the beautiful things are displayed.
One switch turns the lights of, the other lowering mirrors around every wall.
Mirrors that are rimmed with coloured lights. Each one showing a differe...
Ash was greeted by dim lights and a long corridor. The pitch-black walls sucked in all the light from the entrance.
Her pacing was irregular as her attention was pulled in every direction by the acrylic skull depictions.
One painting showed a skull on a pedestal, elevated from the flush flora below.
Another a skull that appeared to be a deer or elk lying discarded on the floor of the ocean. Li...
“She’s acting,” Ell mouths, turning toward me to shield the words from the woman rushing past us.
I look up from my halfhearted examination of the welcome pamphlet, the words having lost all meaning somewhere between the fifteenth and twentieth readthrough. After over two hours of waiting, these are my options: stare at the pamphlet, stare into space, or stare at the attendees on their way out o...
The last free people. A memorial to them. They existed. And here in the museum, we see their relics.
They were a sacrifice for the good of everyone. We needed order. They represented disunity, unrest, discord.
So they were obliterated. One by one, or in scores. Whatever it took, we destroyed them.
But they were preserved here, as a fly in amber. In this single monument they live and breathe ...
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