There was an old museum set for demolition in a few days. But no-one cared for the history preserved inside. Some thought it should’ve been destroyed a long time ago for its preservation of faces from a generation lost and forgotten to time. It was nothing like viewing the preserved skin and bones of animals. This was different. Horrifying. Grey faces maintained with bulged stitches in glass displays, that were kept stretched over expressions of terror. Children weren’t allowed in that room. But college history students, like herself, could still access the room as long as she presented her school ID.
She sketched those faces on the last day the museum was open to the public. It was said he who forgot his past was doomed to repeat it. Something cruel had wiped out an entire generation. And she was going to find out what it was.
Sammi’s writing prompt has become my saving grace to an extent. I’ve been going through a bit of a rough patch with writing. My book is full of entries, but somehow I’ve become very hesitant to post these days. I don’t know what sort of funk this is. But I do hope everyone is doing well and having a happy weekend!