This shift was no different than the last, paintings needed restoration, and I was the person to do it. The only thing different was the series of unfortunate events that ended up with me being locked in the gallery overnight. To explain briefly, I had told my boss that I was leaving, but I went back inside, got distracted and fell asleep. My boss locked me in by accident. The real cherry on top of this not so great situation, was that my phone battery was almost non-existent. My forgetfulness had finally caught up to me. I had used what was left of that battery to find my way through the inky blackness that was the art museum. Only for it to finally die when I discovered the doors were locked. The building, along with the doors were fairly old, so it was impossible for me to unlock it within.
         After my phone had perished, I tried making my way to find a light switch, so I would no longer have the feeling of dread while looking into the darkness that surrounded me. I had used my hand like an anchor to the wall, so I would know where to go. If my memory served, there was a light switch next to the main entrance. The worst part of this journey was that at one point, I had let go of the wall. I have never been lost at sea before, but this is what I imagined it would be like. Drifting out without having any clue which way land was, feeling that at any moment, I would be consumed by the ocean. That feeling soon left when I took a few steps back and found my beloved wall once again. I continued my journey without issue, found the lights and lit the museum up like a beacon. A beacon for what? That I would soon find out.
          The museum was deadly silent, only having the hum of the lights as my companion. I walked through the gallery, taking a look at the paintings on the wall. I never really stood to look at them, to observe them like a visitor would. From the entrance there was a colorfully painted woman, having a mix of blues and greens as her skin tone. Although her eyes were what first caught my attention, they appeared to bore right through your soul. I could only look at them for so long before I had to turn away. The painting I turned to next was of a lovely vase with flowers in it, the petals looked so delicate and real. I was caught up looking at them until I heard footsteps down one of the halls. My head instantly snapped in that direction, feeling both relief and dread at the same time. It could very well be an intruder or just as well be my boss. I had decided to hope for the latter and slowly took off towards the footsteps.
    I turned around a corner, hoping to see my boss, but hope left me and something else took its place, fright. There was no one, just the paintings. I did a double take, looking in all corners of the room, but nothing. I felt the hairs stand on the back of my neck. More footsteps passed by behind me. I turned around and saw the backside of a woman with a dusty pink fur coat, escaping the room. My heart was beating fast as I followed her, losing sight of her for a brief second, but the music soon guided me to the main gallery. Along with the music, the chatter of a crowd. I peeked around the corner and saw the room had transformed from what was the gallery to a stage. The woman was up on stage singing a song I didn't recognize and the crowd was singing along. One particular crowd member caught my eye, a girl that was of Asian descent, dressed like she just got out of school, singing her lungs out. I watched her sing and dance until everyone started screaming and along with what sounded like a gunshot. I ducked down to the floor as soon as I heard it. I turned to look at the door and a man in a ski mask was shooting randomly into the crowd. I closed my eyes shut tight, covering my head, waiting. Waiting for what, I'm not sure. Suddenly it was silent. I opened my eyes and saw that the floor was covered in giant black bags. I glanced over them all, counting thirty in total. I saw one partially unzipped, seeing the shoes of the girl I had just been watching. I closed my eyes, trying to rationalize what happened. Upon reopening them, I noticed the museum was back and it was just as quiet as it was before.
      I immediately got up and ran back to my room, slamming the door shut and locking it with my key. I went over to my work bench and sat down, staring at the floor. As I started to calm down, I noticed my throat was sore. I began to wonder why…and it occurred to me I must have been screaming along with everyone else.  I gently massaged the outside of my throat, only irritating it, but it helped me think. I sat on that chair for what seemed like hours, still staring at the laminated floor. I woke up out of my daze when I heard grunting and banging outside of my window. I slowly got up and walked towards the noise. I peeked out of the small window and saw a man getting beat up. I started banging on the window and screaming for them to stop, but they couldn't hear me, or perhaps maybe they didn't want to. I kept watching as the man took the hits, grimacing at the sounds he made. When the men finally left, the man was on the ground, unmoving. I felt something warm on my face and I reached to wipe it off, looking at my hand. It was tears. When I looked back up, the man was gone. Where did he go? Where did any of these people go? Were they ghosts?
      Hours went by and the gallery was quiet again. I tried walking around the museum, looking for a phone to use, or perhaps a charger. I walked into one of the closets, flicking the lights on. It was just filled with cleaning supplies. No real technology to be seen. I turned the lights off and closed the door. I sighed, turning my body to go back into the hall. The adrenaline rush from the events of that night had left me long ago, and my eyes were starting to fail me. Before, all I wanted to do was get out of here, but now I just wanted my bed or a couch to crash on. Because of my tiredness, I  almost didn't notice the man in one of the chairs when I walked past him. I yelped and jumped back to the wall. The man did not acknowledge my existence. I stared at him, watching him fiddle with something small in his hands. He was older, maybe in his seventies. He looked confused and perhaps a little scared. I watched his hands move around and saw it was a bright red marble in his hands. The man was mumbling something quietly to himself as he played with the marble. I slowly walked by him, and decided with everything I've seen, maybe it would be best to leave now. As I walked away, I heard a thud. I knew what had happened behind me, so I didn't turn around and kept on walking.
      I found myself in the entrance of the gallery, eyeing a wooden bench. I had lost hope of escaping that night and the only thing I wanted to do was sleep. I put my coat on, zipping it up and laying myself on the bench, using my arm as a pillow. I hadn't turned off the lights, so I could still see the paintings on the wall. I curled up the best I could, closing my eyes. And just like that, I was out like a light. When I woke up, I heard footsteps and a door opening. I quickly sat up on the bench, seeing my boss walk in wearing her bright red dress. She jumped when she saw me. "What are you doing here? I thought you went home!" She said, walking over me. I told her all what had happened that night, deciding to leave the ghost details out. She sent me home after I shared my story. Which I greatly appreciated. When I got home I felt such a relief. I immediately went to my bedroom and crawled into my wonderful bed. I didn't bother changing my clothing, because it seemed insignificant. I was comfortable and just about to drift off when I suddenly remembered my phone. I quickly sat up and plugged it into the charger beside my bed. If there was anything to take away from that night, it was that my phone must be charged.
        Later that evening, I was at my computer, wanting to know the history of the gallery. A rock concert shooting, an unsolved homicide, and a heart attack. It was all real.