The Water Nymphs

Two ladies at The Albertina came and said hi to me. They were all wet as if they just came out of the water. Their faces were diabolically beautiful and they had long hair that touched the floor. Their long hair was decorated with some kind of white fluffy algae. Behind them were two long trails of water that ran down their long hair. That’s pretty much all that I can sum about them because if they have a body each, I could describe more.

“Welcome to The Albertina,” both of them greeted me while smiling. “How do you like the museum?” they added.

“It’s great! I am loving the fact that I could see Joan Miró, Marc Chagall, Picasso, Edgar Degas, Paul Cezanne, Albrecht Durer, and many more here! ” I told them excitedly. I had visited a few other museums previously but none of the visitors ever try to make any sort of conversation with me. Well, neither do I but I was glad that at least here people were making effort to start a conversation.

“Das ist lieb! How about we invite you to visit our realm? Are you up to it?” they babel simultaneously. At first, I was reluctant but since I was alone and not rushing anywhere, I guessed I didn’t have any reason not to follow them. I said yes.

We walked; I mean I walked –they floated– until we reached a big frame with a gold-coated wooden border. There was a realm of water inside; gleam and mossy. I went near the frame to get the sense of the height; it was more or less my tall.

“Climb through,” they directed. I climbed after them and immediately soaked in water and once in there, I immediately became like them; I was disembodied. Breathing got easier. My face turned flawlessly pale but my vision became very clear. My thinning hair grew longer and white fluffy algae immediately came swimming towards me and giggled before finding their spots to sleep in-between my hair strands. After a while, they were all over my hair sleeping soundly.

Two men appeared in front of the frame. I startled and froze, so does the two ladies. The men were admiring us three until one of them who looked puzzled questioned my presence there, “aren’t there suppose to be only two nymphs?” The other man nodded and then scratched his head and touched the frame to see if it was real.

Beep! Beep! Beep! The security alarm went off.

The last thing I heard was the sound of marching boots. It subsided as I slowly froze.

Painting: The Water Nymphs (1899) by Gustav Klimt.