In The Night

trigger warning: creepy descriptions of k1lling.

The lights dimmed as a man in a black tuxedo strutted around the gallery, his hands automatically pressing the switches etched in the wall.

Pinned onto the man's chest, was a name tag, and it displayed a picture of a middle-aged man, with rough, brown hair, a messy moustache above his lips. His face was emotion-less, bland, monotone.

Even as he did his night-guard duty, his face was blank, his eyes drifting randomly, his feet shuffling along uncomfortably.

He was nervous.

He quickened his pace, his fingers moving nimbly along the wall, pressing on the light switches here and there. Then, he exited the humongous museum's main hall.

Silence rang loudly in the room and a clock ticked somewhere. With a few scratches, the alluring yet intricate painting of a woman, who had blonde curls framing her pretty face.

Her lips were red with rouge, and her cheeks and forehead was pale with face powder. Her face was beautiful in a regal way, and her nose was like a figurine chiselled skilfully by a woodworker.

Despite her attractive looks, her eyes were wide with surprise, her mouth agape, showing a row of tidy teeth. Her long-fingered, bony hands were on either side of her head, and her eyebrows were arched.

Her name was "Feminae Clamoribus In Noctem" which was Latin for "Feminine Screams In The Night".

Her background was a dark night, with trees that swayed. Wait, how can painted trees... sway?

Shockingly, her wide eyes blinked, once, twice and kept blinking, like a human. Her hands slowly left her head, and her mouth closed.

She tilted her head to one side, then another, as if relieving the pain that she had felt as she was forced to stay in one pose for a whole day, with mortals looking agape at her, pointing and whispering about her.

She hated being in the museum. She hated being put on display. She hated being gossiped and rumoured about. She hated being a painting. She hated being unable to do anything to show her hate.

Her bony hands groped the picture frame, and she slowly stood up, her long legs unfolding. "Awake, my fellow brethren."

Her voice was raspy, like a snake's hiss. Her eyes suddenly glowed a brilliant red, passion, desire and revenge in them. Her blonde curls bounced as she lifted one leg over the picture frame, and another one followed.

Her long, dark olive dress, that matched her eyes, trailed as she approached the middle of the hall. Her eyes scanned the room.

The "Feminae Clamoribus In Noctem" lady was very much alive and breathing, now calling to her kin that hung dully on the walls.

To her left, a painting of a man with a blood red beret on his head smiled in reply. His stubby hands gripped the basal of his frame, and his equally stubby legs stepped over it.

His stomach was round, and he was short. His moustache moved slightly every time he breathed, and his thick chest heaved.

His baby blue eyes glinted with the same gleam in "Feminae Clamoribus In Noctem"'s olive eyes.

He stepped closer towards the dim-lighted figure of ''Feminae'' and as he got closer to the source of slight light, his skin was revealed.

It was horribly stretchy, like a woman's stretch marks after pregnancy. Long, terrible scars that I assume were gashes, went across his forehead, making him look older and more battered than he actually was.

He approached the ''Feminae'' lady, and took her hand in his, before bowing slightly to kiss her hand.

The "Feminae" lady positively towered over him, looking down on him as if he were a trash bag that smelled vile, but was covertly preserving ingots.

"Homo Dives,'' the lady's voice rang through the room, harshly breaking the silence, "Welcome into the night." She spread her arms and smiled benignly, but still, she looked as creepy as a cheap haunted house.

The so-called Homo Dives nodded, and took a step back, and he lifted his palm to meet the Feminae's. Feminae's hand attached with Dives's, even though it took her an effort to do so, having to bend down to reach the stubby Dives.

Instantaneously, light shone from their connected fingers, a light brighter that man has ever known. A light which would cause any mortal to be blind if he saw it for half a mili-second.

Feminae shrieked, excitement in her voice, victory in her tone. "We rise, again!" she said, her physique trembling.

Dives exclaimed, "Yes, my queen!"

All around them, the paintings came to alive, crawling out from their frames, just like in a fantasy film. They screeched compliments to their queen, Feminae, and her private consultant and secretary, Homo Dives.

They also yelled credit and thank yous to the pair, as they were claiming that they had been freed from the '' disgusting power of the icky mortals'' as one woman in a red dress, with red hair, a red-tinged skin, and blood shot eyes crawled out of her frame, which lay abandoned near the trash can.

The paintings gathered in a circle, and whence everything- no, sorry- everyone was alive, Feminae and Dives let go of each other's hands.

Feminae was glowing with a I'm-The-Most-Powerful-In-This-Group aura, and Dives looked way minor and inconsequential to Feminae.

Dives had his arms crossed on his fat belly, his eyes wild with joy, a smug smirk on his lips. Paintings- I mean- People stared at him, which was weird, since they were paintings too, and they were looking at a painting but they're actually- Oh, never mind, I bet you hitherto know.

To Dives's right, there was the red woman, who was titled... well, "Rubrum Mulierem" which was "Red Woman", but in Latin. Dives glanced at her a few times, clearly unhappy of the close distance with a freaky, possibly psychotic, literally red lady.

Rubrum was growling and gnashing at her own claws, which was probably her way of showing enthusiasm. Next to Rubrum, there was a slim and slender man, about eight feet tall.

He was "Tenebrae Vincentes" or, ''Darkness Wins''. He was literally darkness itself. His face was a smudge of black. His lissom legs were black, too. Everything about him was black, the only exception being his red eyes, which glowed brightly, fairly in contrast with his inky figure.

A dozen more paintings were like that, some taking the form of regular humans in regular paintings, but some, also, had morphed into monsters too gruesome to describe.

There was the Feminae Clamoribus In Noctem, Homo Dives, Rubrum Mulierem, Tenebrae Vincentes, Silentium In Conclavi, Dulce Vindicta, Vias Occultas, Noli Fleur Puer, Deo Gratias, Ignosce Dum Potes Dicere, Satyrcion Vale, Silens Whispers, Paenitet Hurts, Amittere In Ludus.

But, in all of the crazy, nasty, weird, pure idiosyncratic-ness, one thing kept them all together: Red eyes.

Feminae's voice rose above all the others complaints, whines, whispers, gossip and various other conversations you won't be glad to be in.

"My dears," she said, her voice entrancing, slowly lulling them into a quiet reference, "Let us kill the gods and take their place-"

She was cut off by a shriek from Rubrum the Red. Everyone snapped their attention to her. "My queen, I beg for permission to talk." Rubrum remarked. Feminae nodded and Rubrum continued, "How about we soothe the humans first, by singing them a sweet lullaby, and once they've fallen asleep, then we'll rip them to pieces, tear their skin off, and devour their guts?"

Feminae shivered. She was a goddess herself, one of the old, minor, ancient gods that was cursed to be a painting. Her husband, Homo Dives, and her children (the dozen listed above) was also cursed, since they had Feminae's blood in her veins.

As much as she hated the powerful gods, which included Jupiter, Neptune, Pluto, Juno, Venus, Minerva, and Apollo, for cursing her and banning her from Olympus.

She had taught her children every night, being patient enough to do the painstakingly slow task of raising twelve children, designed and taught to rule the world, kill the enemies, and have no individual wants or desires that are impossible to fulfil.

As much as she hated the gods, she respected humans and mortals. They had taught her that, even though she is a goddess (their puny minds had believed her words) and is immortal, she should learn how to understand the true meaning of life.

She snapped at Rubrum, "Rub!" she said, shaking her head and scolding Rubrum, "I've told you a million times, I do not allow the killing of mortals." her voice was sharp, her eyes glinting dangerously.

Rubrum sank into the shadows, obeying her mother. "Yes, mother," came her voice, now barely a whisper, "I am sorry. I won't do it again."

Feminae relaxed, "Good, now," she told her children her plans and they cheered as they set out into the night, starting their journey to Olympus, their mission intact, their vision whole, their hearts set on one thing:

Kill the gods.