Clio’s Museum and the Letter
Everything I looked at reminded me of the past, good and bad. Something about this made me feel happy.
After years of exploring the world and recording history, I have decided to return home and run my own museum. After all, I believe that learning from the past mistakes of others will help one make better choices. What better way to show this than providing the information in a museum? One thing you should know about me is… that I am obsessed with History. Although, I seem to be missing some of my own. I hope returning home can help me remember the memories I’ve lost. I assume you already can figure out who I am. I am Clio, Muse of History, and I hope you enjoy my story…
Everything I looked at reminded me of the past, good and bad. Something about this made me feel happy.
I hadn’t received any other letters from this mysterious L since that day, and I was starting to think that maybe there wouldn’t be any more.
If I save her, I would be interfering with fate. Could I really just leave her here to die?
“You can learn a lot observing from others,” I replied, ignoring his comment. “If only mortals learned from their past mistakes, their lives would be easier.”
“What is a girl like you doing out at this late hour?” the man smirks, stepping closer to me. He picks me up by my arm and I smell his breath.
“Well, aren’t you just the cutest little thing,” she says, pushing off the wall and walking over.
“It is just better if he doesn’t know. It is just a crush, right? Those feelings will fade away,” I whisper.
“You should know. I will never love you,” he says coldly. My heart feels like it’s been stabbed multiple times by those words.
“Yes, I do. I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” I whisper to him.
My heart dropped in my chest after hearing my mother speak up, bringing me back to reality. He will never love you…
“Just because we grew apart doesn’t mean I don’t still love you.” He clears his throat. “As one of my best friends.”
I watch as my mother moves the slit in her toga, revealing a dagger strapped to her thigh. She unsheaths it, showing me the deadly metal shimmering in the sunlight.
“It requires eye contact and nothing else. I will share with you the memories, the happier memories, of my life with your father. Would that help you trust me?”
“Things will always try to come between us and fight to tear us apart, but it won’t matter, they’ll fail. They’ll have to. The only thing I care about is you and our daughter. In the end, that will always bring me back to you.”
The man standing at the door is my Uncle Hades. Hung over his shoulder is a lifeless body. I look at him in concern as he drops the body on my desk before sitting in the chair in front of me.