SILVER

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I push back my glasses on my button of a nose, rummaging through file after file and stacks of paper in the archives. The room was dim lit and dusty, not a good place for someone who gets colds every now and then because of the crappy weather. It rains and suddenly it feels like you were stuffed in an oven. I shake my head disapprovingly at the heat in our country. Crops die, farmers lose their jobs, people get strokes, and lakes and rivers dry up. It'll be so hot in the afternoon that people prefer staying indoors. I let out a huff, pulling on a filing cabinet and looking through them.

"Silver," a voice calls from another aisle. I turn, my heels clicking, with a stack of folders in my hand. I shrug off the discomfort my cotton cardigan was giving me. Even inside this air-conditioned place, the humidity was almost unbearable. I make my way over to a large wooden table, boxes and boxes of latest discoveries litter across it. A man, dressed in a crisp white polo and dark slacks, leans across it, his hand on one of the old worn down parchments.

"You called, Sir?" I query, watching him immerse himself with the strange paper. He does not acknowledge me for a moment before his eyes turn to me and I remembered why the weather or working in this stuffy place wasn't so bad. Yes, I was extremely attracted to my boss. Which is down right wrong in some work places but hey, no one knows so I am not exactly doing anything wrong? His lips curve into a crooked smile as he waves the paper he is holding, "check this out. Pretty sure you'll love it."

I smile back, walking over to him that we were almost just an inch apart. I could smell his cologne. He places the paper, flat on the table and I study it. It was old and barely readable but I could make out some symbols and letters. A different language? They all seemed familiar somehow. Like I had seen them somewhere before.

"Where'd they find it?" I asked as he walked around the table to take one of the boxes.

"Some undiscovered cave near one of the living tribes near Mt. Pinatubo," he answered and I stifle a snort. There were caves there? My eyes study the paper but I was more aware of his movements. Daniel. Sweet, beautiful, Daniel. I raise the paper towards the light and noticed that there were faded marks at the edges. Too faded for me to read. I discreetly look at him, his tousled black hair as he studies a different piece of artifact. Why did I have to be such a hopeless romantic? Impossible scenarios play in my head. One of which was him admitting his love to me. Another was of us ruling the world together. I am snapped away from my fantasies when the door to the archive room bursts open and a shrill laugh went up into the air around us. I purse my lips.

Vanessa. Beautiful, gorgeous, runway queen, Vanessa.

"Dan!" She squeals and I grit my teeth. "Let's go, we'll miss the movie." She comes into view, popping out one of the dark aisles, her perfect teeth flashing. Daniel looks up from the piece of paper like he had just woken up from a dream. Sweet, adorable Daniel. He looks at the watch strapped to his left wrist and his eyes grow wide. I take a look at my own watch. It was a quarter past 7. The museum closed at 6. We've been here for almost two hours. Vanessa stakes her arms around him.

"Sorry," he mumbles as he starts fishing the papers and arranging them. I grit my teeth, once again, and sigh inwardly. Go ahead, be the silly girl that you are, Silver. 

"I'll take care of it," I say, my voice hiding my real emotions. He looks up at me, his expression unreadable. Then he smiles and my heart drops, almost shattering before it reaches the bottom of my stomach. Vanessa grins at me, but it was half-hearted. She hated me, that much she made clear when she 'accidentally' spilled coffee on one of the files under my care. I click my tongue, pushing back my dark rimmed glasses. They have been dating for two years but me and Daniel had been friends for almost five.  Giatay. Two years over five. I smile back at her as Daniel walks around the table and grabs his jacket from one of the chairs. He then stalks over to me, easily towering over me since I was short. Pitifully short. One of his arms wrap around my shoulder in a small hug.

"Thanks, Rosa." He says, a teasing glint in his eyes and I scowl at the mention of my second name. He knew better than to say it. I push him away from me, in a friendly way. He chuckles before he walks away and I watch him take Vanessa's hand and they both walk out the room, leaving me to do all the cleaning up. Again. Well, I kind of did ask for it. I roll my eyes, kicking my heels off and prying my cardigan over my shoulders. Five years. Five years since my parents died. Killed off by a drunk driver. The pain erupts in my chest, slower this time. Much slower but not any less painful. I still remember that night. It was a year after my graduation. I draw in a deep breath. I met Daniel shortly after that, in a support group. We were inseparable ever since. At least that was what I thought until two years ago when Vanessa showed up in our lives with her long nose, rosy lips and pale complexion. Rosa. My second name, a name my parents got from my grandmother. Rosalinda. Rosa- Rose. I lick my lips as my fingers fumble and look for the pins in my hair. I always kept my hair away from my face and into a tight bun as much as possible. If you could actually call it hair when it's practically a lions mane. 

"Thank you, Rosa." I start to say in the most masculine voice I could. "You are the best Rosa. I wish you were my girlfriend." I continue, taking the parchment papers and arranging them neatly inside the box. That's what you get for having OCD. "I love you, Rosa." I lift the box up, struggling to carry it to the storage room where the conservators do their magic.

"Oh, Daniel." I swoon, "I don't know what to say."

"I-" I stop short as a sound of something shattering fill the silent room. I freeze. Was someone else still here? At that moment, my imaginative mind kicks in and I imagine at least 7 worst case scenarios. One was being in the middle of a robbery. Sweet potatoes, were was the guard? I imagine Tom cruise in Mission Impossible. For all I know, they scaled the walls and are now inside this very room. I squint against the dim light when there was a loud creaking noise and I jump, dropping the box. The papers fly around and I curse in every language I knew. I quickly crouch low and take them, carefully, off the ground. I hate this skirt.

"I should have stayed at home," I muttered. "But no, because I had dreams. I wanted to be somebody. Wanted to travel. And here I am stuck in a dead end job for two years and pinning for someone who probably sees me as nothing but a sis-" A shadow came into view at the end of the aisle and I stifle a scream, my heart pounding. I stand looking for something I could use as a weapon and fish out my phone. There was a creaking sound and a man, short and had the weirdest beard, comes into view. The Janitor? I don't hide the fact that I breathe out in relief.

"You okay there, miss?" He asked. Come to think of it. I have never really seen the Janitor in the two years I worked here. I give him a brief nod as his eyes travel to the scattered papers, my bare feet, and then my hair, that had managed to get free of their cage. I tuck a stray strand under my ear. My bun was loose because of the fast movements, I presumed. I smile at him as he continues to study me.

"Err," I look at his name tag, which he did not have.

"Do you need help?" He asked after a while. Yes.

"No," I answer as I bend down to retrieve the rest of the papers, my heart still pounding inside my chest. I could feel his eyes on me and I clutch my phone tighter.

"It's what I am paid to do here," he points out and I actually laugh before remembering the shattering sound.

"Did you hear anything break?" I ask, scanning the room around us. He gives me a soft nod before answering with that thick accent. Like one of the highlanders, I have seen in movies, "that is why I came here to check it out and when I found you, bending over some files, I assumed it was you."

I shake my head. Now where did the sound come from? I couldn't tell if it was from my right or left, "It sounded like glass. Have you seen the night guard?"

He nods, pointing somewhere and I shrug it off, "He'll probably look into it. If you heard it, he probably did to." I say, but mostly to try to reassure myself. The archives room was the farthest room in the museum before the storage room, of course. I finish packing all the papers and lift thee box up, contemplating for a moment if I should get my heels or not before deciding not to. I could run faster without them. I put my phone inside the box, on top of the stacks of papers before walking casually towards the storage room at the back.

"Are you sure you don't need help with that, lass?" he asked as I brush past him. Lass? An image of Jamie Frazer from Outlander comes into view and I chuckle, despite the situation. I glance at him over my shoulder, just noticing the worn out boots he wore. Such a strange get up, I mused as I give him one of my best disarming smiles.

"Yes, I can do it perfectly on my own." I state, matter of fact. I have been doing things on my own for as long as I can remember. Relying on people has never really played out well with me. Even in my college years.  "Never needed any help," I added, to prove a point.

"Everyone needs help sometimes," he chuckles and I glance back at him from the corner of my eye. Who was this weird man? I shake my head, holding the box tighter.

"Not me," I assure him as I take another step further away from him. He lets me go without any further arguments, the smile on his face never fading. It was starting to irk me.

"You would, soon enough." He says in a matter of fact tone when I reached the door to the storage room and I felt something cold run down my spine. Was he threatening me? With one hand, I hold the box tightly as I take my phone out  and type furiously. Who was I going to text? I had no friends. I snort bitterly and send the message to my little brother who was 5 years younger than me. He probably was the only person I could trust. He was still a boy in my eyes even though he looked much older than me. I send the message, telling him not to worry until I fail to show up for the picnic he was hosting at his house this Saturday. I push open the doors to the storage room after typing in the passcode and swiping my employee card, and flicked the lights on, placing my phone back in the box. The smell of the room was welcoming. I have always liked it in here. The thought of having to go back to the archives to retrieve my cardigan and heels made me shiver slightly. There was just something wrong in that room. Something weird. Perhaps it was all the artifacts lying around. I place the box near a few others, only it drops to the floor and I hiss a few more curse words. I inwardly scream when my phone rings and my brothers name flashes on the screen. I swipe to answer.

"Hello?"

"Asa ka, oi?"

"Work, duh?"

"Why do you sound like you're being trailed, te? Unsa ni? Thriller movie?"

"If you called just to say that, why do you even bother?" I reply as I bend down , muttering and sighing as I try my best to handle the files with care. It was actually good to talk to him. To have someone talking to me in this creepy situation.

"Mahal kita eh, obviously." I roll my eyes at his response when suddenly, the lights go out. I freeze. The phone slips from my hands and lands with a loud thud on the ground. I could hear my brothers panicked voice on the other end.

This was it. This is how I die.

I desperately reach out for my phone, as my eyes dart around trying to make sense of my surroundings.

"George?" I asked and hear him breathe out a sigh of relief on the other end.

"Peste, I thought it was going to be like that movie Taken."

I laugh half-heartedly as my eyes try to adjust to the darkness. The big window at the top providing little aid. Thanks, Luna. I sigh. Probably just another power failure. Or the museum is officially closed and I am trapped here for the night. I chuckle, hiding the fear I felt when I heard voices. I stand abruptly, hitting the table behind me. It makes a creaking sound and I hear more than a few more boxes tumble over it. I bite my lip, as my glasses manage to fall on the floor.

"Rosa, are you alright?" George asked for the nth time. I hum in reply. Today was not my day. Definitely not my day. I let the light of my phone fall on the floor. My vision was a blur and I blame all those years of reading and writing in the dark. My glasses were there, mocking but, fortunately, in one piece. I squint and draw the light away from it.

Somehow, the moon light seemed to reflect more clearly on the papers scattered on the floor. I swing the phones light back and forth from the paper and away from it. Now where have I seen magical marks like this before? I bend down, my fingers tracing the marks lightly.

"Hey George, in the Hobbit, the dwarves had that weird rune thing going on, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

I hold the piece of paper up, watching as the marks glow brighter under the light of the moon. I scoff, no way in hell this was real? I hear loud shuffle of feet, an angry whisper as the paper is snatched away from my hand.

The last thing I remember was the faint glowing marks on the paper, a loud shuffle of feet, my phone dropping as my younger brother's name flashed on the screen and something hard hitting me on the back of my head.

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Translations
Rosa - rose
Giatay- liver/ gutted (lol)
Asa ka oi - where are you, oi
Unsa ni- what is this?
Mahal kita - i love u
Peste- pest