The beginning of the end of the world was a Thursday, according to most surviving scholars of the time. Decades later, the last surviving member of the ruling species died and the world officially ended. It was a Tuesday.
Sue was born during the first sunrise at the beginning of the end, she grew up as no one else did before her, and few did after. She knew only the ending of things.
At a young age, she was taught to scavenge for anything that might help her survive. But Sue was never one to scavenge lightly. There was far more out in the world than the necessities. Food and water kept her alive, but artifacts and knowledge let her live.
Sue collected items from every region she stayed in, however brief the stays were. Her parents always insisted on moving since staying in one place too long was just asking for a visit from bandits and other less savory individuals.
But this didn’t stop Sue from collecting. Her stashes could be found dotting the countryside for hundreds of miles, like a connect-the-dots that never ended.
When her parents inevitably died, as everyone did in those days, she decided it was time to break the cycle. She was going to stay put.
***
Max is a 75-year-old Baroque violin. As his former owner, an amateur violinist would often say, “If it’s not Baroque, don’t fix it.” Max was not a fan.
Max spent his days held in a small case, being carried from audition to audition. He would listen as the orchestra conductor beckoned the violinist on stage. The case would open as light poured in, momentarily blinding Max so he could imagine being pulled out by literally any other musician.
Reality would strike as harshly as the violinist’s bow across his strings. Max would count 30 seconds before the conductor requested the violinist to stop and he was ushered off stage. They’ve been through this routine many times before. Max would then find himself once again thrust into the case, a dark, tight space that muffled the world around him.
***
Sue’s decision to stay in the former Hogs Head tavern was mostly due to its location halfway along her trail of collections – with the plan of gathering them into one location. There were once places all over the world that housed artifacts and Sue planned to bring this back. And the former Hogs Head Tavern would allow her to fulfill this dream.
Unlike museums of the past, visitors weren’t a top priority for Sue. At no point did Sue ever consider who would actually come to her museum, and she didn’t think it was all that necessary anyway. It had been months since she had seen anybody, and before then the people she did see weren’t the museum-going type – more interested in killing than appreciating.
People weren’t her strong suit anyway. She had spent her entire life avoiding them, it’s how she was still alive. She regarded the items in her collection to be her friends. Her companions she could rely on as she moved throughout the world. The unwanted trinkets of a time no one would ever know again.
***
After a string of unsuccessful auditions, the violinist would often drown his sorrows at his local pub. In his dark case, Max could only imagine the events of that final night he would spend with him.
Max, as he so often did, would count the number of times a pint glass would hit the table above him. The distinct sounds of a slowly emptying glass would be quickly replaced by a new, full glass, a cycle that would repeat throughout the night. An ascending scale orchestrated by a drunken man with nowhere else to be.
This particular night his count would steadily climb. Higher than average and at a pace Max was sure could not be maintained. From his muffled case he could hear the familiar sound of nearby conversation, the bartender refusing Max another drink, Max’s loud and violent reaction, and finally the sound a fist makes when colliding with flesh loosely blanketing a skull.
Max’s world shook as he was lifted from his resting place on the tavern floor, knocking loudly against the bottom of the table. The case rumbled as he was ushered quickly through open space and finally as if he was flying, a feeling of freedom he had never known, he was thrown through the open doorway of the tavern. A cacophony of curses accompanied the clattering percussion of his case meeting the close cobbled curb.
Lying in the street Max envisioned the scene around him. The violinist pulling himself to his feet after an embarrassing encounter with a large man, dusting himself off and looking around for Max. He would carry Max to the violinist’s small apartment where he would be pulled from his case for their nightly practice. They would spend the entire next day perfecting their performance and would be chosen after their audition this Thursday. Everything would be perfect after this low moment. Everything would be exactly as it should be for Max.
What transpired instead, was nothing Max could have imagined. Yes, the violinist picked himself up from the street. Yes, he looked around for Max and carried him away from that cold street. But when they stopped it was much too soon to be the violinist’s home. They had only traveled some 50 feet before the feeling of being lifted into the air was felt.
For the second time that night, Max felt as if was flying. He felt like he could go anywhere and be anything. As if the cycle of neverending lows were finally behind him. Until he hit the river and the rush he felt became the rushing water filling his case. Max sank to the bottom of the river like a stone, lodged between the rocks that filled the riverbed.
In his new resting place, he could hear the muffled sound of water rushing past him. The familiar sounds of the street above him were even more distant than ever before, and his world was still.
***
Sue’s daily ritual of reviewing her growing collection always began by fetching water from the nearby river, just in case any of her friends needed the extra attention of a quick cleaning.
As she approached the water she took each step with care as to not fall. Lowering her bucket, a glistening caught her attention just under the surface. She took a few precise steps into the rushing water so she could get a better hold of the item. The thought of adding something new to her collection excited her.
She pulled the item from its spot and placed it softly on the nearby grass. Inspecting the object she can see it was barely held together by rusted latches. Nothing a few strikes with a rock couldn’t break loose.
As Sue opened the case, sunlight filled the void, and for the first time in many years, Max could see the world around him. He could once again hear the melodic chirping of birds and a symphony of sounds he forgot existed.
Sue looked down at Max, inspecting his appearance and lifting him from his case with care. Her brow furrowing as she turned him over, looking at him with such care he had never experienced before.
“It’s broke,” said Sue. “But I can fix this.”