Avoid the wooden room at the George Mann’s Interiors exhibition in the Milwaukee museum. Just a couple of weeks ago my friends and I went on a full day out around town: yoga in the morning, breakfast near the museum and then to see an exhibition or two.
It’s a shame that it would be the last exhibition I go to. But I like to think that anyone would do the same after almost dying in one.
We arrived at the museum which had a few events going on, it was full of people. It was also prom season so a lot of teenagers were there too, taking pictures in the museum’s garden (which honestly is beautiful).
The museum had all the typical things you would find in one, nothing weird, well, except for the wooden room.
The wooden room was part of George Mann Niedecken’s Milwaukee Interiors exhibition. The room stood out from everything else in that exhibition. That is if you were able to see it because none of my friends seems to remember it. When I saw it, I felt like it was calling to me with its dark wood, warm mood and glass containers with old artefacts made of bronze and gold.
Inside it was well-kept furniture from the 1800s. However, the most impressive thing to me was the low ceiling with a painting of the night sky. On top of a desk was one of the gold artefacts, it was like the hilt of a knife for visitors to touch, which I did. Right then I felt cold, a breeze went through my body, giving me goosebumps on every part of my body. I turned around looking for others but didn’t see anyone. In fact, I didn’t hear anyone. The most deafening shit ever.
I went outside the room trying to find my friends in the exhibition, but nobody, not a single soul was there. I thought they had left for a different exhibition but it was hard to see. The lights were dimmer, they made the place darker but just then I saw people move around a wall so I followed them but right past the corner, nothing.
Those situations don’t sit well with me, at all. Being alone in a large place freaks the hell out of me. It makes my body go into flight mode. It makes me feel like I’m being followed and that there are things coming where I’m not looking. I tried to keep myself calm, breathing, with my eyes wide open (closing them makes me panic - Showers are not fun).
After I managed to relax a little, I walked to the contemporary art section, telling myself it was just a coincidence. The paintings on the walls were weird looking, the faces shaped oddly with just tiny details that made the fucking things unsettling. The people inside the portraits had stretched eyes, lack of noses, and distorted face shapes all with the same fucking smirk. I felt like eyes were all over me, judging, laughing, even from the fucking animals painted, even they had a weirdly human expression.
Looking at the floor was the only thing that kept me sane while walking until I stumbled across a plaque on the floor. I was one of those pieces of art from new artists, kind of like half a toilet with pillows or something. The plaque was written in symbols I didn’t understand. When I tried to read them, they gave me a headache and I heard whispers inside my head.
That was it, this shit was real and I wasn’t taking any more chances. I broke into a cold sweat, my body shook but still ran towards the main door to find a fucking exit, a window, something that would take me outside to breathe but NOTHING.
The windows had the same night sky as in the wooden room, the doors were painted on the walls, and there was nothing else, nothing to grab, just posters of the events and tables in an empty room.
I’m not easy to cry but I… because of that shit I panicked, you would too wouldn’t you? No escape, no fresh air, no window to see outside? Fuck that! I’m never going back to that place. What stopped me from lying there on the floor for hours was a loud GONG coming from one of the exhibitions upstairs.
Any normal thinking person would ignore or get away from the sound, but not me, no, my dumbass followed it. After the third GONG, the floor vibrated. A new sound joined in. The one that comes off a half-filled wine glass when you slide your finger through the edge? That.
It was soothing for a bit, but turned louder and louder, hurting like needles puncturing inside my ears. I quickly moved towards it, inside the African exhibition. I realized that the sharp sound came from a Tibetan bowl. The fucking thing was on the floor in the center of 4 weirdly colored columns with symbols, like the ones from the plaque. Something told me to leave it alone and keep moving.
Once inside the exhibition, the doors closed behind me. I jumped and screamed, only realizing after calming myself down that the Tibetan bowl turned silent. Looking around I noticed a few short wooden figures of men right on the wall opposite me, so I ignored them and walked fast looking for an exit.
I felt watched throughout the museum, but here, here I felt followed. The figures were all over the place. With my heart pounding, and hands shaking, I got closer to one of them. They were only about 4 feet tall and made of wood. They had dark and deep holes where their eyes should be, flat noses and stains coming off every hole in their face. Each figure had a few differences, some in the color of the wood, painted clothes and even slightly different heights.
Walking away from them just made me feel like something was trying to catch up to me. I suddenly felt goosebumps on my back, a breeze going through me and broke into a cold sweat. Somehow the dead silence made it worse. I kinda wished those things spoke or something. My back felt a heavy pressure. Against every instinct in my body and any preservation of myself, I turned around. Every single figure was there, collected in a circle, standing in front of me.
Every. Single. One.
Each second felt like an hour. I walked backwards, I wasn’t gonna leave them out of my sight, but the dust was getting to me, and even though I didn’t want to sneeze, I had to.
That’s when I heard a sound like wood chairs dragged around the floor. They were closer now. I looked around the room, whenever I turned to one side, the sound came from the other. I felt them getting closer and faster.
Then I heard the wood again, this time behind me. I turned and saw the tallest figure dragging itself towards me as if something pulled it from the head. Its feet were scratching the floor. I screamed and ran forwards dodging him.
I could hear them all, the figures dragging themselves. Following me. But I kept running, just running for my fucking life.
I went right to the stairs, into the furniture exhibition and straight to the wooden room looking for that gold knife hilt I touched when I entered the first time.
It wasn’t there. Fucking nothing.
There was a loud bang behind me, making me turn. There it was, almost touching me. The tall figure stood with its mouth open in front of me. The mouth was a perfect circle dripping a dark green-almost black substance, had many rows of human teeth stuck to the wood, more than what a normal person would have, just there, as if hammered into it.
I cried for help thinking that was it but thought about the elevators. I remembered the parking level that I hadn’t gone to. I realized there was still a chance.
I moved and the tall figure rotated to face me. It let out the loudest scream I’ve ever heard. One of those desperate screams, so hard it threw me to the floor, but I stood up and kept running to the elevator while the scream got louder.
Inside the elevator, I pressed the parking and ‘close doors’ buttons like crazy, my finger is still bruised from how hard I pressed. When the doors closed the elevator just dropped, it was falling down, non-stop. I just dropped to the floor, screaming, crying, yelling for help, for my parents, for the police, for anyone, for a normal person.
I felt so lost that I didn’t even notice my friend’s hand on my shoulder.
Only when they grabbed my face did I come back to my senses. I saw all of my friends looking at me scared, some staff surrounded them. I was back, crying again. Relieved to be back.
Nobody believes me to this day and how could they? It’s crazy shit. I just have to live with the trauma and believe me, it’s gonna be a long fucking time before I visit a museum again.