(Disclaimer: This is based on another plot in the same story. I thought it would be intrigued to create two similar stories, and see how the differ.)
Joel wondered down the hall, turning his head left to right. He stopped, turning towards a ordinary oak door with the words ‘Gallery’ engraved into it. He shrugged, the night was young, and they had plenty of time to explore.
The room consisted of a long ball with a series of pairings on each side. Joel paused by one, admiring it for a moment, until something dawned on him. IT WAS HIM. He turned and raced to the next painting. It was of him standing in a jungle shearing nothing but a furry loin cloth. He was tall, covered in muddy filth. His hair was thick and matted, whilst his filthy arms and legs were covered in thick, dark hair. His chin was lined with an extraordinarily amount of dark scruff; not quite a beard, but not at all clean shaven. There was something prehistoric about the scene, something Joel couldn’t quite place yet, like so this clouding his mind,
He moved to the next, something set in Greece. It was him again, yet his form was something refined and sturdy. It was an athlete from Ancient Greece, and he looked about as Greek as you could get. But there was something else, something reminiscent of a Greek God....
The next was also strange. The scene seemed to be Egypt, he could see the pyramids and him. It was strange, something, but again there was something royal about him in this.
He moved down a little further at another painting. This was perhaps a even most stranger sight. It was him, but an orc? These paintings just kept getting stranger. There were more things like this down. Joel as a mythic being of sorts.
There was samurai one also, and various others.
This was getting out of hand, Joel turned and walked to exit the room. He needed to get Chris and leave. Stuff the rain. Suddenly, a feeling washed washed him. He turned back, staring down at the many paintings lining the room. Something urged him to touch one, admire it, but which one?