Thunder rolled ahead and a young woman made her way down the side walk. A German Shepard following behind her. Her blue eyes gazing ahead as she weved between people and rounded up the long steps that led to the museum main doors.
Just as she did, it started to pour. Cursing lightly under her breath, she picked up the pace. A whine behind her. Stopping she looked back. “Come on boy..let’s get inside and get dry.” The dog refused to move. Sighing she moved down the steps to him. “What’s wrong Sarge?” He was shivering and realized what it was.
A soft gaze crossed her features. Her hand reaching for his collar. “I know you’re scared, but once inside it will be ok.” Her tone was soothing and finally with a small tug he followed her. Looking back up the steps she saw a small woman waiting just inside the main doors for her. “See, Anna is waiting to give you your favorite treat..” the word treat caught Sarge’s attention and he took off to the door and the sudden movement caught her off guard.
A light yelp and she fell back onto the steps, landing hard on her rear. “Ah..ow..”
A cloth bag falls against the sides of his legs with each step across the museum’s granite tiling; yes, Gaster had elected to buy his friends and family a large array of gift shop wares. New to this part of existence, he was woefully unaware of the practice of overpricing cheap items that infected the surface. At any rate, he was pleased with himself and his own choice of excursion.
Despite an incident where he’d been mistaken for one of the displays—or rather, several incidents—the museum had been informative and enjoyable. Eventually, people should become used to seeing an animated, lively, walking skeleton in their everyday lives. Hopefully. Personally, he was happy to see humans again, even if the sight of them in groups triggered an uneasy feeling in his old heart—they had so many achievements and such a long history that the discarded books of the Underground had monumentally failed to do justice. Not only cars, no, but winged machines, great pyramids, buildings that scrapped the sky—even for someone as imaginative as him it had been impressive the feats humankind reached.
And as a final great way to end the day, it was pouring on the steps of the building he’d just left.
As a skeleton, the water bogged down his clothes in a way that made him look very strange indeed, like a spindly tree with drapes of heavy moss down the sides. Still, he held his hand out to catch droplets on his fingers and watch the water slip through his scarred palm—so long since he’d seen the sky. His clothes would dry and his gifts were covered with plastic so he might as well enjoy the beautifully sad grey wash beyond the horizon.
Until a woman suddenly fell close to him, and, surprised, he yelped and took a step or two back.
W. D. GASTER 