Sarah Wright: Meeting the painterMature

Sarah stared out of the window. She was staring at the rain without blinking. She usually found comfort and inspiration in the rain, but not today. Maybe because it had been raining for over a week now, and she really needed a change of scenery. 
She stared at her unfinished art work. She had to hand it in the following day, but she had only drawn some lines. Her work just didn't feel right. It wasn't what she wanted to draw, it was wat her teacher wanted. She sighed and put her drawing in her art folder. She'd try and finish it at home after work. 
She left the empty art room and braced herself for the rain that was waiting to soak her. Well, here goes nothing, she thought as she ran out of the university building. 
Fortunately for her, the museum she worked at wasn't that far from the university. She was still soaked when she got there, though.
''(You must be frozen!)'' Sarah looked to her right, where she was met by her colleague and friend Jenna. ''(Isn't this rain awful? Well, I guess it's expected from the Netherlands!)'' 
Sarah smiled and quickly went to the staff room to change. Jenna was right, living in the Netherlands was nothing like the sunny California where she came from. She did enjoy living in Amsterdam though. Ever since she was a little kid she had wanted to visit the Netherlands. She'd grown up with the culture and language, due to her mother being Dutch.
Sarah looked at the clock hanging in the staff room. It was almost time for her first shift, she'd better hurry.

''And this is Rembrandt's most famous work: 'The Night Watch', painted in 1642.'' Sarah knew the story of 'The Night Watch' by heart. After all, Rembrandt was her favourite painter, she knew everything about him and his work. 
''Who's the little girl?'' a small boy asked after she was done talking. Sarah loved it when kids asked questions. They usually asked a lot more interesting things than the adults did. 
''She doesn't really exist, Rembrandt has made him up. Do you know why?'' she asked the boy kindly. He shook his head shyly, now that all attention was focused on him.
''It is believed that the girl is used as some sort of mascot for the 'Kloveniers', as the claw of the dead chicken on her belt represents them.''
''So she's symbolic?'' the boy asked. Sarah nodded with a smile on her face. 
''Rembrandt was really good, wasn't he?'' 
''Yeah,'' Sarah said. ''It's a shame I can never meet him.''
''Do you want to meet him?'' the boy asked, blinking. He had a confused look on his face. ''But he's dead!" 
Sarah laughed.
''That's why I find it such a shame.''
She suddenly felt nauseous and she sort of blacked out. What was happening? Sarah started to panick. Then there was a flash of white and she suddenly found herself... Well, it was clearly Amsterdam, but the stench was overwhelming. People were they were at some kind of festival with the Golden Age as a theme. How did she suddenly get here? Wasn't she at the museum just a second ago? And is that excrement I smell? 
Something definitely wasn't right here. No one seemed to notice the stranger that must have appeared out of nowhere, wearing strange clothes that didn't match up with the passers-by. One woman walked straight up to her, but she didn't stop. Curious, Sarah waited to see what would happen. The woman went through her. She went through Sarah! Was she dead? Was she a ghost? But that was impossible. She didn't remember dying. And why would heaven or hell or wherever she was look like this?
The only way of finding out what the hell was going on, was to walk around and... Well, explore. 

After avoiding people going through her again for awhile, she finally ended up at some kind of atelier. Inside, there was a man painting. A man that she'd recognise anywhere. Someone she knew so well, as if he were family. It was Rembrandt van Rijn. Then it occured to Sarah what exactly was going on. Somehow, she had traveled in time. She had wished that she could meet Rembrandt, and here she was, right in front of his studio.
What should she do? She'd love to talk to him, but it was clear that that wasn't an option. The only thing she could do was observe, and she was okay with that. 
She could watch him work for hours. She learned so much, she gained so much more inspiration, and even more respect for the painter, if that was even possible. 
But she couldn't watch him for hours. Before she knew it, she was back at the museum, lying on the floor, panting heavily. Her group was standing over her worriedly. 
''She's awake!"
''Give her some space!"
''Should we call an ambulance?''
Sarah got up slowly. She had been in the 1600's, yet she had also been in 2013. How was that possible?

The End

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