The Discovery
From a plaque in a museum:
It was January 24th, 1848 when a man by the name of James W. Marshall first set eyes on a shiny yellow piece of metal on the bottom of the tailrace at Sutter’s Mill in California…
“I reached my hand down and picked it up; it made my heart thump, for I was certain it was gold. The piece was about half the size and shape of a pea. Then I saw another.” – James W. Marshall
Marshall’s discovery set off a rush to the California gold fields by land and sea and an unprecedented mass migration which forever changed the American frontier.
The Road Trip
From a random post on Reddit:
A few years ago, I took a trip to California's Central Coast. It was one of those vacations where you take a long road trip, stopping at all the major tourist attractions along the way.
One of the places we stopped was a small town called Cambria. While there, we decided to visit Moonstone Beach. After driving through the town and passing the local shops, we parked the car and made our way down the sandy path to the beach.
It was there that I found it.
One of the places we stopped was a small town called Cambria. While there, we decided to visit Moonstone Beach. After driving through the town and passing the local shops, we parked the car and made our way down the sandy path to the beach.
It was there that I found it.
Looking down as I walked along the water, I saw a large, dark stone embedded in the sand. It was unlike any other I’d seen, so I decided to look closer. Without hesitation, I reached out to touch it and immediately noticed it felt unnaturally warm. But what was even more strange is that when I picked up the stone, it began to glow!
As I held it for closer inspection, the glow -- and the heat -- intensified. It was as if a wave of energy was surging out of the stone.
But it was becoming too hot to hold any longer, so I dropped it. As soon as I did, the stone fell to the ground and shattered into pieces, and the waves quickly reclaimed it.
As I held it for closer inspection, the glow -- and the heat -- intensified. It was as if a wave of energy was surging out of the stone.
But it was becoming too hot to hold any longer, so I dropped it. As soon as I did, the stone fell to the ground and shattered into pieces, and the waves quickly reclaimed it.
All of it except for the one piece I was able to save, that is.
When I got home, I added it to my rock collection, thinking nothing of it again for a while. In fact, it’s been so long, I can hardly remember what it looked like exactly, and I haven't seen it glow again since that day.
When I got home, I added it to my rock collection, thinking nothing of it again for a while. In fact, it’s been so long, I can hardly remember what it looked like exactly, and I haven't seen it glow again since that day.
Then, a few weeks ago, I received a call from a client who wanted me to create a new art piece for a museum. The museum in question was located in California, and they wanted a diorama that would depict the Oregon Trail. I didn’t know much about it, even though I grew up in Oregon, but I was certain I could recreate it using the information provided by the client and whatever else I could find online. So, I accepted the job and set about creating the diorama.
The first thing I needed to do was research the subject. After learning more about the history of the pioneer trails, I became fascinated. I began to see my surroundings in a different way. It was as if they had a story to tell all along, but I was not listening… I dug deep into the rabbit hole and hardly came up for air, losing track of time along the way. Time was running out, so to meet the deadline, I used some of the rocks from my collection to create the diorama, and delivered it to the museum.
I’m not sure, but I’ve not been able to locate the stone in my collection since, and I’m tempted to go and visit the museum to see if I somehow inadvertently included it in the piece.
The first thing I needed to do was research the subject. After learning more about the history of the pioneer trails, I became fascinated. I began to see my surroundings in a different way. It was as if they had a story to tell all along, but I was not listening… I dug deep into the rabbit hole and hardly came up for air, losing track of time along the way. Time was running out, so to meet the deadline, I used some of the rocks from my collection to create the diorama, and delivered it to the museum.
I’m not sure, but I’ve not been able to locate the stone in my collection since, and I’m tempted to go and visit the museum to see if I somehow inadvertently included it in the piece.
The Museum
From a Yelp review:
The staff at this museum are more knowledgeable than usual and the artifacts look a little too pristine. Even the memorabilia available in the gift shop seems a bit too authentic. I wondered, what made this place so special?
During my visit, one particular exhibit caught my attention: The 1849 Experience. The museum staff boasts that the exhibit is able to bring history to life in a way like no other, and it felt as if the entire museum was beckoning me towards it.
During my visit, one particular exhibit caught my attention: The 1849 Experience. The museum staff boasts that the exhibit is able to bring history to life in a way like no other, and it felt as if the entire museum was beckoning me towards it.
After paying for my ticket of admission and entering the exhibit area, I felt goosebumps come over me. The room was curiously devoid of any other patrons, and so quiet, my own heartbeat was audible. But as I stared into the paintings on the wall, I began to hear echoes of the past...
What happened next, after I began exploring the exhibit, I should never expect anyone to believe.
When I first heard the voice, I looked around to see where it was coming from. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a door alight with what seemed like the afternoon sun. Both the light and the sound seemed to be emanating from beyond the doorway.
What happened next, after I began exploring the exhibit, I should never expect anyone to believe.
When I first heard the voice, I looked around to see where it was coming from. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a door alight with what seemed like the afternoon sun. Both the light and the sound seemed to be emanating from beyond the doorway.
Curiously, the doorway lead me into the basement, which appeared to be some kind of storage area for museum exhibits.
As I entered the room, I noticed a small table and resting upon it was a diorama depicting the Oregon Trail.
Astonishingly, it was glowing, as if real and alive. It was like the entire scene had been painted by an artist so masterful, they could draw you into their work.
As I entered the room, I noticed a small table and resting upon it was a diorama depicting the Oregon Trail.
Astonishingly, it was glowing, as if real and alive. It was like the entire scene had been painted by an artist so masterful, they could draw you into their work.
The voice, which seemed to be coming from inside the diorama, quickly turned into what sounded like footsteps and wagon wheels cutting into a well-worn trail.
With great curiosity, I glanced down at my hands and reached out to touch the diorama and barely a moment later, I was there, riding in the wagon, holding the reins.
As the wagon rumbled along the dusty trail, I contemplated what had just happened, and whether it was real or a dream…
With great curiosity, I glanced down at my hands and reached out to touch the diorama and barely a moment later, I was there, riding in the wagon, holding the reins.
As the wagon rumbled along the dusty trail, I contemplated what had just happened, and whether it was real or a dream…
