The Artefact

The cargo had been holed up almost a week in Chicago now and the crowd could wait no longer. Eager to re-open the museum and put this whole mess behind him Jamieson was more than a little irked at hearing his centre-piece had been delayed by a snowstorm. The museum opened its newly fitted uncharred doors to the public on the 10th as planned but the Egypt exhibit remained (excuse the pun) “under wraps”. Hundreds flocked the gates in each morning but they wouldn’t cross threshold or pay admission until they knew it had arrived. The artefact on everybody’s lips from the buried catacombs the museum’s own team had so painstakingly excavated. Of course everyone had marvelled at the pyramids and their spoils but this treasure was far more precious. Precious enough, Jamieson thought, to make someone try and stop it from coming to this museum altogether. Jamieson looked on with furrowed brows as the tiny sarcophagus was snuck in to the museum. It was settled in to place on a gilded stand and Jamieson nodded furtively to its escorts. Outside the swathes of people bayed, Jamieson’s bleak countenance settled in to the visage of a curator. And with that the newly appointed curator marched down the inferno stricken great hall, now retiled in gaudy red, to face the masses.

(prompts: excavation, snowstorm, (picture of a crowd))

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