Chapter One
A Normal Day at the Museum
Hello everybody! My name's Eve, and I'm a new writer. (Yes, I understand the similarity in Eve and Ib. That's part of what really drew me to the game.) But, as you could have probably guessed, this is a story based off of the popular pixilated horror game, Ib. It's based off the romance, or, my made up romance, between Garry and Ib. In this book, Ib is 15 years old. I'm planning another book where she is 9 years old, so just wait up for that please. :) Anyways, I hope you enjoy this. -Eve
Art. The quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance. That is what it means to most people. But really, if we think about it, what is art? It is whatever we imagine it to be. Whatever we can picture in our minds. That is what art is. Art is decided by the individual who attempts to interpret it. I had always loved art as a child. I could get lost in a single painting for hours. 'You're daughter takes a great interest in artwork. Have you ever considered putting her in a special program for it?' That was what all of my teachers would say to my parents. I think the real problem was that nobody understood. I didn't want to make art. I just wanted to look at it. To see the different ways that it could form. But no one ever understood. Naturally, I loved art galleries. I visited many as a child. There was only one that I hadn't been to. It was in the heart of the city, and my family had put it off for quite some time. But, when we finally decided to go, I was filled with excitement. But nothing could have prepared me for the horrors that would await me in this place.
It was an early afternoon. The sky was a dark, gloomy color of gray, and it had been raining the entire day. My parents and I had been planning a visit to the art gallery, as soon as I got out of school. I had just graduated from my first year of high school, and was finally able to visit the gallery. I was fifteen years old, and still as fascinated with art as I had been my whole life.
I still remember my mother's words to me as we left the house that morning. 'Did you remember everything Ib? Oh, do you have the handkerchief, the one we got you for your birthday? Keep it safe in your pocket, okay? Don't lose it.' she had said. 'Mother, I'm almost sixteen now. I think I can remember something like that.' I had replied, walking quickly out the front door. But as I strode towards the car, my hand slid into the pocket of my blouse, just to be sure.
Once we were at the art gallery, I noticed that it was extremely busy. A new exhibit had been opened in this museum. All of it's current work was from an artist named Guertena. I had never heard of him before, but apparently every one else had. All that I wanted to do was hurry up and begin to look around. I looked up to my mother, smiling.
"Mother, may I please go look around on my own? Just for a bit, until you and Father have our tickets?" I asked her, pleading with my eyes. She looked at me, then to the gallery that lay out behind me. After a few moments of considering, she nodded.
"Very well dear. Just try not to disturb the other visitors, alright? We will cove find you as soon as we're done with this." she said, looking back to the immense line of people that stretched to the desk. I felt a bit guilty for leaving, but I was just so excited to see all of the new paintings and sculptures that the gallery had received from this new artist.
I quickly and quietly walked off, up the stairs and to the first gallery to look around. The first picture I saw was of a women, who had a newspaper folded in her hands. The picture was titled, very appropriately, 'Woman Taking Newspaper.' Though it was a very simple concept, you could see every bit of detail that had been put into it.
Moving on to the next painting, I saw someone in front of it. It was obviously a boy, judging by his muscular build. He was at least half a foot taller than me, and wore a torn blue trench coat. He had very beautiful lavender hair, which had a few streaks of darker purple that crossed over the top of his head. I also noticed that he was obviously very focused on the painting in front of him, so I decided that it was best to move on until he was done looking at it.
A few feet away from the boy was another painting. I leaned in to look at it closer. This picture was of a woman, who looked very similar to myself, or so I thought. She wore an all red dress, and had long brown hair that fell down her back and spilled over her shoulders. Once again, the title was named very appropriately, 'The Women in Red.' Thought the painting was very beautiful indeed, there was something about it that disturbed me. Looking into it's eyes, I saw that they were also red, just like her dress. I felt a shiver run through me, and I turned to my left. The boy was still standing there, examining the painting. Oh well, I would just have to see it later. I walked in the opposite direction of the Women in Red, sighing. Something about it still disturbed me.
I walked into the next gallery, which seemed to focus on sculptures rather than paintings. I first came upon three sculptures of female bodies, each with no head. Examining them from behind the rope, I noticed that they all wore the same dress, only in different colors. One wore a blue dress, one wore a red dress, and one wore a yellow dress. All of the primary colors. Walking around the rope, I went to examine the title, which was posted on a small plaque attached to the rope. It read, 'Death of Individual.' What a strange title for something like this...
The next statue I came across caught my attention immediately. It was a gigantic rose. It's beautiful green stem twisted down towards the ground, thorns the size of bowling pins rising out of it at all angles. The petals of this rose were very beautiful, but looked incredibly fragile, as if one small movement would send them all tumbling to the ground. I forced myself to peel my eyes away from the magnificent statue, and find the title. When I saw it, I noticed that the plaque had more writing than usual.
It read, 'Flower of Spirit. Beautiful at a glance, but if you get to close, it will inflict pain. It can only bloom in wholesome bodies.' I stared at the sign, then back at the rose. What a strange thing to put on a statue...Once again, I ignored the peculiar feeling that I received from the statue, and walked away. After walking for a little while, I came across a more disturbing painting.
Rather than being painted on the ceiling, this one was painted on the floor. It depicted a large angler fish with huge jaws, approaching a school of fish. Everyone surrounding the painting were whispering to one another. The room was much quieter than the others. I could see why. This painting truly was the most disturbing piece of the artist's works. However, the plaque still caught my eye. Bending down, I read it. 'Abyss of the Deep.' This title made sense to me, but I couldn't explain why...
After looking at this masterpiece for a while, I walked back upstairs to see if I had missed anything. Sure enough, I noticed a narrow hallway that I hadn't noticed before. Looking around, I walked into it. I automatically noticed that there was not one other person in this long hallway. I found that incredibly odd, since the gallery was almost full of people today. But, I continued to walk until I reached the painting. There was only one in the hallway, but it took up almost the entire wall.
The painting truly was enormous, and incredibly abstract. It had so many things in it, so many that I could barely make them out. I picked out a moon, brightly painted above the darkness that made up the rest of the painting. I also noticed a huge red rose in the top left corner of the painting. Everything looked...So real...I stared at it for quite some time, letting my eyes wonder over the many things in the painting. Looking down, I saw the title of the painting. It read, 'Fabricated World.' I touched the golden frame that surrounded the picture, looking up at it in amazement and wonder. The detail of this painting...it was so wonderful...This artist was certainly one of the best I had ever seen...The painting made me feel like I could jump into it with ease...
Suddenly, the lights all around me flickered. The hallway went completely dark for a moment before the power was restored. My hand immediately flew from the painting's frame, and I glanced around in fear. There was still not a single person in the hallway. Just me and the painting. But, I noticed that I could hear no noise. The entire gallery had gone silent. I took one last look at the strange painting, then walked down the hall towards the more open part of the gallery.
There was no one around me. I ran down the stairs, tripping on the last step and stumbling down into the lobby. No one was at the reception desk, and the line that had been full of dozens of people only moments ago, was completely empty. I glanced around, starting to panic a bit. Where had everyone gone? Was this some kind of a prank? A joke organized by my parents to punish me for something? NO...They would never be that cruel...I looked around, suddenly hearing footsteps coming from somewhere behind me. I spun around on my heels, but there was no one there. Just empty hallways. The footsteps stopped for a minute, but then started up again, coming from above me this time.
"H-Hello?" I cried out, my voice coming out in a cracked whisper. The footsteps stopped once again. Then, the lights flickered once again, going completely out this time. The entire museum was plunged into utter darkness. I was alone in this dark museum...Really starting to panic, I ran back through the hallways, finding that huge picture again. This time, a blue liquid of some sort seeped from the bottom of the frame. Taking a closer look it appeared to be paint. That hadn't been there before...Had it?
I tried to step away, but then a loud noise came from behind me. When I turned around, I couldn't help but cry out in fear. There were six letters on the floor behind me, written in some kind of red liquid. It read, COME IB. I felt my back slam against the painting behind me. I came away from the wall a bit, seeing that some of the blue liquid had gone. I bent down, my entire body shaking in fear, and examined it again. 'come below ib. i'll show you someplace secret.' it read in blue letters.
In utter shock, I stepped backwards a few feet. Should I obey it? Looking again at the massive painting, I decided that I really didn't have a choice. What would this...thing do to me if I didn't obey it? Making up my mind, I walked downstairs, and into the room with the Angler Fish painting.
When I arrived in the room, I regretted my decision almost instantly. Some of the rope had been torn away from one side of it, and a set of blue footprints led onto the painting. Or...Into...I walked ahead, standing where the blue footprints lie, and then looking into the painting. It really did look unbelievably real...Even more so than it had before. I could even swear that I hear the sound of running water...I bent over to examine it closer, when suddenly, I lost my balance and fell face first onto the painting. Rather than landing on the ground, however, I felt my body hit ice cold water. In a splash, I was totally submerged into what, only seconds ago, I had believed to be a painting.