The Night Watchman's Adventure🔊

Under the glimmering glow of the moon, the city concealed itself within a deep, comforting silence. Nestled within this tranquillity was an imposing building, the city's Museum of Ancient Arts. The structure stood grandly, cloaked under an aura of mysterious charm reflecting its priceless store of antiquities.

The night watchman, Alfred, was assigned to the night shift, his task to oversee nothing disturbed the peaceful slumber of the past. Alfred took his responsibilities seriously; but it was not just the promise of money that fuelled his loyalty. He was driven by an unquenchable passion for history.

One night, just as an autumn moon began to brighten the star-lit sky, Alfred entered the museum. Illuminating his path with his lantern, he embarked on his routine walk around the halls filled with marble statues, historic paintings, and ancient artifacts.

Near midnight, amidst his rounds, Alfred noticed a peculiar glow emanating from Exhibition Hall 3. His heart pounded as he approached the source. Peeking through the semi-open door, he spotted an ancient relic radiating an unfathomable aura - the Obsidian Orb. Documented in numerous historical accounts, the Orb was known for its eternal vitality and a whispered rumour about its power to time travel.

Alfred tentatively stretched his hand out towards the mystical Orb, curiosity pulsating through him. The second his fingers brushed against the artifact's cold surface, and he was swept into a vibrant vortex of colours and lights.

When his vision cleared, Alfred found himself in an era where arts and culture prevailed – Renaissance Italy. Men in artist's frocks with palettes and brushes crowded the precisely carved streets, banduras playing in the background. The air was thick with the smell of paint, and the whispers of poets resonated around.

The museum watchman managed to convince an English traveller that he was a scholar who had lost his way, and to his own disbelief, the watchman found himself standing in the presence of the legend himself, Leonardo Da Vinci, gazing upon the masterpiece of Mona Lisa yet to be revealed to the world. Overwhelmed, Alfred broke down in tears of joy.

Time was indeed like a running stream, unnoticed until it's gone. Alfred's sojourn had just begun when the Obsidian Orb around his neck warmed up again, signalling his time in the Renaissance period was ending. Despite his resistance, the Orb glowed brighter, and he was sucked back into the vortex, leaving behind the living canvas of history he had stepped into.

Alfred woke up on the cold tiled floor of the museum, the silent statues standing witness to his incredible journey through time. He returned the Obsidian Orb back to its pedestal, a secret smile playing on his lips. Every night thereafter, he embraced not only the stillness but danced with the echoes of the past around him, living in his secret, shared with nobody, laid to rest within the museum walls.

From that fateful night on, Alfred found a renewed joy in his role. His nights were no longer desolate; they were a gateway to history's most defining moments. So, as the moon rose each night, the night watchman greeted it with anticipation, cradling the secret he’d uncovered, guarding the sanctuary of time, treading the gulf between a city asleep and a past awake.