Erín

October 12, 1990-Ireland:

"Welcome to Meath Museum of Crime! Home of the mysterious artifacts left behind and forgotten in times of disaster! We encourage exploration of the mysteries behind strange disappearances, gruesome murders, mass extinctions, and some, even said to be supernatural. We welcome anyone and everyone with morbid fascination to come by and experience the past! You must be sixteen years or older to enter without adult supervision." 

Erín shuffles his feet in a cramped office, filled with random old artifacts. He looks around at all the trinkets laying haphazardly on shelves, lining the floors and walls, waiting for the museum owner, Seán Cavanaugh, to finish a call. Cavanaugh looks at him, an apologetic glint in his grass green eyes.  Erín nods and looks down at his feet, ready for this interview to begin. 

Cavanaugh finishes up his call with a curt farewell and all but slams the phone back into its receiver. He leans back and folds his burly arms.

"Alright, Mr.-" Cavanaugh begins, his voice rough and booming. 

"Erín. Erín Doyle." 

"Yes, Doyle. You were interested in the security position here, correct?" 

"Yes sir." Erín forces a small smile, attempting to not look so nervous. 

"Do you have any experience at all with security?" 

"I did four years with the Pennington mall just down the road sir." 

"Good, good," Cavanaugh mutters, running a hand through his messy snow-white hair. "When, and why, did you leave the position?"

Erín gives a genuine, large smile this time. "Well sir, I heard the museum was hiring! I immediately jumped at the opportunity. I haven't actually quit yet, however. I'm waiting to see if I get this one!" 

Cavanaugh gives a suspicious once over and asks, "why is this position so important to you? What does the museum mean to you, Mr. Doyle?" 

"This museum has been a large part of my life since I was a boy. I remember coming here at least once a week, looking at all of the displays, watching the documentaries in your theater. I found my love of the mysteries and supernatural here. When I was a teenager, I volunteered here in my free time, as a guide, or a cleaner, anything I could do to be here," Erín smiles, recalling his fond memories. 

"That's very heartwarming," Cavanaugh smiles. "I'm honored my family's museum means so much to you. I looked over your resume, your track record looks great, no criminal background, I think you will be a good fit for the position. One last question." 

"Of course, what is it?" 

"Do you believe in monsters, kid?" 

Erín blinks, confused, and then laughs. "I believe humans can be monsters, Mr. Cavanaugh. However, supernatural monsters, no, I'm afraid I don't." 

"That is a fair answer, and one I had expected." Cavanaugh grew very serious and leaned forward, placing his hands on his desk. His tone grew dark and said "well I must warn you, Erín, evil things are connected with a lot of these artifacts. Items belonging to the worst of creatures; human and not. I must warn you, never touch any of them, no matter what. Is that understood?"

Erín nods, his blood running cold. 'What a strange thing to say' he thought to himself. "I understand completely sir." 

Cavanaugh stands and reaches out to grasp Eríns hand in a crushing grip. "Welcome to the team, kid. We're happy to have you." 

7777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777

  "Máire I'm home! And I brought some food!" Erín places the food bags on the dining table and pulls off his hoodie, tossing it onto a nearby chair. "Máire! Come eat! It's from that burger place you like!"

Máire runs down the stairs, phone in one hand, cigarette in another. "Hey bro, sorry, I was on the phone with Christie! What did ya get me," she grins, pulling a hit from the cigarette. 

Erín plucks the stick out of his sisters mouth and throws in the dishwater. "I asked you to stop smoking those f*****g things in the house," he sighs. "I wish you wouldn't smoke them at all." 

"It's not that big a deal," she pouts. Erin rolls his eyes, tossing her the bag of food. "Everyone smokes these days. You smoke, dad smoked," she adds with her mouth full of food. 

"Yes," Erín sighs. "And look where that got them. Look, I'm not arguing, I just wish you would stop. And I never smoke in the house." He sits in the chair across from her and picks at his own food. 

"I wish you would stop blaming them ya know?" Máire points out, her tone falling flat, a piece of lettuce hanging from her lips. 

"I'm not-" Erin sighs, and throws a napkin at her. "I'm not blaming them. It was a messed up thing that happened. But look we're not talking about this again. Eat your food. Also, I have news," he grins, finally biting into his own food. 

"What happened? You got the job at the museum," she questions, wiping her mouth. Erin nods and she frowns. "That place is creepy, I hate it." 

"Why? You used to love it," Erin frowns. "Well, the owner, Sean, he was really weird about," Erin chuckles, thinking back on Sean's last warning. 

"What did he say?" 

"He said not to touch any displays because they came from monsters. Made it seem like he actually believed they were cursed or something," Erin shakes his head, clearing the laughter bubbling up his throat. "It was weird." 

"Huh," was Maire's reply, finishing off her burger and chips. "You remember that creepy mask they had? The one you swore on your life that it's eyes glowed?" Erin nods to let her continue. "What if the owner is right? What if something is cursed and tries to kill you," she breathes, her tone only slightly joking. 

"You don't seriously believe that do you? I was ten then, you were life, five, and I was trying to scare you," Erin chuckles, getting up and ruffling his sister's hair. She swats his hand away and grumbles something under her breath. Erin rolls his eyes, throws away his trash and heads up the stairs.

"You haven't seen what I've seen," Maire whispers when he's out of range.