Once again, I could not stop myself from going to the museum. It's become my passion, my obsession. I faked sickness, killed aunts and uncles, just to go there once more.
I stepped over the No Entry sign. A broom and a bucket stood in a corner; the air smelled of dust. The Sea World was down a corridor illuminated by a single dull-yellow light bulb.
Wax fish swam in a glass ocean, a fishermen, holding a rod, stood on a rock above them. Suddenly, a strange smell. Someone was breaking the air-conditioner pipe. “My treasure,” a voice mumbled from the broken pipe. A white creature, half a man half a slug, appeared, it's eyes glittering as he saw the pond. Quickly he crawled to the rock where the fisherman stood. “My treasure!” he called again, as he dove down into the sparkling glass. Green splash stained the surface of the glass, cast shadows on the fish below