Run Till Dawn

I grew up in a mueseum. I learned everything there, about the past and present. I knew more about the past. I lived in it, only observing the present from a window, never touching it, never being part of it. Until something came in the night. Looking for me. Now I have to go. It dosen't matter where. I have to escape what is coming after me. It's death or a life of running, unless I unravel the mystery of my past....

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2. Growing Up

I had a different childhood to others. I know that people stop playing imaginary games after a while. I can't. I enter the court of Queen Elizabeth every day, marvel at her dresses in the glass cabinet. I practise swordplay with authentic swords once a week with the weapons master and gently run my fingers over ancient texts, copyed out by monks so carefully. When the librarian wasn't looking of course. He'd probably chop off my head if he saw me. I grew up here. I go around and give tours, and when people enquire within my hearing range why a child is in a mueseum as a staff member, Mr. Rochester heartily replies that I am the muesuem, and probably recieve a better education that most children. Sometimes I ask people to ask me about any time period, and I answer easily. My name is Mary. Reign 1689-1694. I wouldn't care for a normal life in the slightest. I live some of the most clever historians and some of the cruel, stupid, kind, brave and normal people from all over time. They are my friends. I have a girl from the Jacobite times, and a  victorian seamstress. I sit beside her ancient loom and chat to her, or imagine the victorian's manquin as her client, demanding a purple bustle with silk bows on a purple dress with lace around the neck. I'd imagine her at work, a simple frock, hair tied back, all concentration on the dress. She'd sometimes swat me away like the Historical Attire Mistress, but unlike the Mistress she'd always smile, and talk to me when I was upset. The Mistress could recreate dresses, my favorites a white satin dress, lace sleeves and elegant, a green dress with a bustle, white ribbon for the corset top fastenings and white gloves, and an Renassiance dress,of a fine lady. Blue corset top, brown floor length skirt (fine weave) and hand sewn tiny flowers around the waist in blue. She made them as they would be made in those times. It put spirit in to the dresses. I liked her best for the black cloak she made me.

I wore black plimsolls, sensible enough, but them I wore a dress with a floor length green skirt and a red top. I wore my black cloak. I could have fitted in with someone from someone from history easily. I had a small leather belt around me, with a leather sheath. It had a real dagger inside. I was given it for my birthday last year. Its real, and I'm told to keep it out of sight but with me always. It came in use. I loved my home. I loved my small, box bed in the storage room, I loved my authentic looking clothes, and the people at the mueseum were family to me. They had fed me, clothed me and taught me. I loved the ancient relics, every day still in awe that I am so close to a King or Queen from so long ago. I touched their swords, dresses and various other things in which I had a connection. This is my home.

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