Howard paced the corridor on his nightly rounds, overhead lights receding to the vanishing point. On each side, shutters protected treasures he had never seen: the deeds to a castle; a dragon coiled tight around an oak chest of jewels; diadems of starlight.
Howard Carter felt destined for greatness. He wouldn’t be a security guard all his life.
“What do you see in there?” people would ask him.
“Wonderful things,” he would reply.
But he knew what dreamed behind those shuttered doors remained beautiful only until the moment a door was opened on cardboard boxes, overstuffed sofas, and cricket bats.
Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here