Story Contest: Work of Art - Madi L. - 03/28/20

Contest: Winners

Story Contest: Work of Art

Submitted by: Madi L., age 7, Evans, GA

Coast Is Clear

As the final flickering lamp sputtered off, the art museum lay shrouded in shadow. Moonlight streaked through the windows. The paintings hung still, their portraits and depictions unmoving.

Out in the lobby, a certain masterpiece stood watch over the museum’s main doors. She wore a pale, frilly blue dress, her face serene, her features flawless. The artist had done a magnificent job. But the eyes perfected her figure. They seemed to be alive in themselves, like sparkling green jewels. They almost appeared to roam around, scanning for something.

And then those shining gems blinked.

Shifting in her seat, the painted woman smoothed out her skirts and proclaimed, “Coast is clear!”

“Coast is clear . . . Coast is clear . . . Coast is clear. . . .” Like a ripple when a stone is thrown, more voices joined in the signal until the noise level reverberating around the hall was tumultuous. And then the ripple dispersed, melting into joyous chatter and activity as the works of art unfroze and stretched their weary limbs, stiff from staying in one place for so long.

Many of the paintings’ subjects leaned out of their frames and gossiped with one another. Several old men pulled pipes out of their pockets and began puffing on them. Still others curled up in the foregrounds of their still lifes and snoozed. Sculptures worked themselves loose by running laps around the building, leaping off of their pedestals and frolicking. Even the landscapes awakened, trees waving, oceans roaring, cities twinkling.

Every work of art roused and passed the long night away, laughing, chatting, and celebrating.

But eventually the misty light of dawn began to creep through the windows. The masterpieces made their way back to their places and settled into position, preparing themselves for the long, motionless wait ahead.

When the museum opened once again, all the art appeared the same as before. However, there was one minute difference. Every face was a little bit brighter, every heart lighter. All artwork lingered excitedly throughout the day for three words to echo around the starlit halls . . .
“Coast is clear.”

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