Tokyo National Museum

The security guard nervously brushed his uniform as he entered the museum grounds. It was his first night on the job and he wanted to be presentable.

The guard paused for a moment on the circular path outside Honkon to look at his reflection in the square pond at the center of the path. He tugged at his uniform, trying to make it perfect. Despite his best efforts, it refused to do as he wanted.

He was fiddling with his tie as a hand clamped on his shoulder. He jolted and nearly fell into the pond as he turned. Behind him was a withered old man who looked like he could barely stand. The old man's skin was shriveled and his hair was as white as snow. His eyes, though sunken, seemed to burn with urgency and purpose. His voice came out as a rasping wheeze.

"Go home, please," he begged. "It is not safe here." He was interrupted by a hacking cough that shook his entire body. He continued speaking, his voice even more hoarse. "You must leave this place."

The guard felt uneasy. The old man was clearly insane. "The museum is perfectly safe," the guard insisted. "If you'll excuse me," the guard tried to gently push past the old man, who he now noticed bore a resemblance to his father. He shook it off. In a city of thirteen million people, it was inevitable that someone would look like his father. "Why don't you get home and get some rest?"

The old man was overcome by another round of hacking coughs. The guard took the opportunity to slip by him. "Please," the old man begged from behind him. "Beware the Angels! Don't let them touch you!"

The guard ignored him as he bounded up the steps and entered Honkon. "Evening," the other guard said as he locked the doors. "You're the new guy, aren't you? Larry, was it?"

Larry nodded. "Yes, sir."

The second guard continued. "I'm Bob, by the way. Welcome to the Honkon. It's an easy enough job. Just wander the museum, don't touch anything and keep an eye out for anything out of place. You've got a radio, so call in if you have any questions. Every building has at least one guard, none of whom will have much to do, so someone will answer. If all else fails, I'll be around if you need me. Tonight, you'll be in Honkon and Heiseikan with me. Oh, one other thing, the custodial staff sticks around until they're done cleaning so don't mind them." The second guard waved the first off in clear dismissal.

Unnerved by Bob's seeming lack of interest, Larry hesitated for a moment. When Bob made no move to leave his position, the guard decided to start on the second floor.

He started his rounds in the "Dawn of Japanese Art" gallery then passed through the "Rise of Buddhism, the Buddhist, Courtly, Zen and Tea Ceremony" exhibits. He lingered in the "Attire of the Military Elite" exhibit, subconsciously straightening his uniform almost constantly, then passed quickly through the folding and sliding door exhibit, to the daily art and the calligraphy galleries.

On a whim, he headed back downstairs where Bob was beginning his rounds. "Why don't you check out the Heiseikan?" he suggested.

Larry nodded. "Yes sir."

Reluctantly, he entered the modern art exhibit, heading for the passage between the two museums. It was a short walk to the passageway. He paused at the entrance as what sounded like breaking glass came from the other end of the tunnel. He pulled out his radio. "I hear something breaking in Heiseikan."

"Stay where you are I hear it too," Bob barked. "I am coming to you now."

In less than a minute, the Bob had arrived.

"Should we call the police?" Larry asked.

Bob shook his head. "Let's make sure it's not just an equipment failure. The police have enough to do without us calling in a false alarm."

The two walked down the passage, the sound of smashing growing louder. They entered Heiseikan and the smashing stopped. They shared a nervous glance. "Let's split up," Bob said. "I'll check upstairs and you look down here."

Larry nodded reluctantly as they parted ways. He gripped his radio tightly, his breath coming out in ragged gasps, his heart slamming into his chest. Cautiously, he poked his head into the Thematic Exhibition Room. Nothing seemed out of place there, so he moved on to the Archaeology Gallery.

His radio crackled as he entered. "Come upstairs. You've got to see this."

"What is it?"

"Come and see."

The radio fell silent and Larry realized the other guards were playing a prank. He sighed in relief as he mounted the stairs to the second floor.

The second floor was silent apart from the hum of the air conditioning. Larry looked around, unsure where he was supposed to go. As if reading his mind, the radio crackled again. "Gallery One."

Larry stepped inside and shone his flashlight around. All around the edges of the room were figures covered by white canvas. Larry nodded, forcing himself to not seem too amused. "Alright, guys. You got me. You can come out now."

Nothing happened. "Fine, I'll play your game," Larry said as he approached the closest figure. He reached up and grabbed the canvas. With a quick tug, he pulled it off the figure.

Larry gasped. The statue that the canvas had covered was exquisite. It was an angel, her face pressed into her hands as if weeping for a lost lover. Her wings were flared out slightly and he could count the individual feathers on the wings. The hair was carefully shaped so that each strand could be seen.

It was so vivid and detailed, he half expected it to move, or to hear the sounds of weeping. The statue remained still and the only sound was the tap of his boots on the floor as he moved.

Something rustled behind him and he turned to face it. The other figures were no longer covered by canvas. All of them were angels of the same detail and quality as the first. Instead of weeping, these ones all had blank stone eyes and expressionless faces turned towards him.

He felt highly uneasy. "This isn't funny, guys!" His voice squeaked.

The hairs on the back of his neck tingled. Slowly he turned. He screamed involuntarily as he fell backwards. The Angel was no longer covering her face, but instead was reaching out for him, its nails extended into claws. Its face was twisted in a snarl and he could see fangs.

His heart pounded violently as he scrambled to his feet. He turned and started to flee the room, but one of the Angels was blocking in entrance.

The guard sobbed in terror. "This isn't funny!"

He screamed as something cold and hard clamped on his shoulder.

The room fell silent, except the clatter of his flashlight hitting the floor. It flickered once then went out.