Fallen Canvas

In the Art History building, Anna, my roommate, and I sat calmly doing our homework. Ahead of us--in a darkened room--there was an art exhibit that we had gone to view a few weeks ago. The curious thing about the exhibit was that there was a soft, white light fading in and out behind a section of the exhibit.

I got up from my seat on the couch, and peered into the window to see the source of the light. Quickly, I noticed the light was that of a projector that had been left on. Dismissing the light, returning to my seat, and continuing writing my short story, I sighed.

Moments later, I saw a large paper-like object crash onto the floor. I gasped. "Anna, did you see that?!"

"What?" Anna replied, removing her large, earmuff-like headphones from her head.

I repeated my inquiry.

"No." She responded.

"I think a piece of artwork just fell." I replied; placing my laptop beside me, and returning to the locked glass door again, I looked into the dark room.

I did not know what I expected to see in an empty art gallery well past the hours that any rational human being would be out of their home. Half of me wanted to find someone in there rummaging around with the artwork. But who in their right mind would be in a cold, empty building at night.

Anna and I were too crazy to care, and too daft to think this dangerous.

Still, my heart thumped loudly.

My eyes scanned the floor.

A fallen piece of artwork was nowhere to be seen.

My eyes could not pick out any human movement or shadows in the dark gallery either.

Waiting for the dim light of the projector to help reveal the stone floor, I kept searching for the downed canvas. Finding it not, I stepped back, and looked at the door, its reflective face telling me nothing – or so I thought.

My eyes caught something in the reflection of the glass door.

Something white sneaking off the edge of the roof.

Turning to the window opposite of the door, I squinted not sure what I was looking at. The building became colder as I looked outside.

I walked to the window that looked out to the small wooded area embracing the Art History building. My heart pounded.

"Anna, come see this." I called, going to the outer door, and fully comprehending what I witnessed.

Hesitantly, she rose, and followed me out of the building.

We stood in the cold wind, looking up at the roof to see large sheets of ice that had been melting off the buildings.

My heartbeat evened out again, despite the winter chill biting my face.

An ice storm had just passed a few days ago, leaving the university covered in large quantities of ice.

I smiled, seeing the canvas-like sheets holding halfheartedly onto the building's roof.

"It was just a slab of ice that fell from the roof." I laughed, pointing at the cause of my fright. "I saw the reflection of it in the glass door as it fell, and the crash was it shattering on the ground below." My index finger pointed to the broken ice on the forest floor twenty feet below the building on stilts.

Anna and I chuckled a bit, before returning to our work.