The Withazoria Museum

Chapter 1 – Bravery

I am stuck in a place,
That makes spooky critters weep.
I feel cramped, alone, and desperate,
And then upon me it will creep.

It will take over my body,
My mind and spirits too.
And just when you think it can't get any worse,
It will stick to me like glue.

Bravery.

I looked at this poem – which I had written so long ago – over and over again. Yes, I thought. It was bravery. I was too brave. But, I am glad that I was. Being brave had lead to a museum – where I became what I am today. You probably have no clue what I am talking about. You are also most likely wondering where I am. Well, I will tell you.

I am at the Withazoria Museum of Science. You may have gone to a museum for a field trip, as an adult, or just to have fun. Well, I went to the Withazoria Museum of Science because I had to. I was forced to. I needed to. I needed to go as badly as you would need to go and have a drink of water after 47 days in a desert!

Why I needed to go to a museum so badly, may be what you are wondering. Well, it was because I was brave - Too brave. So brave that I felt that I just had to go into a museum that nobody ever went into. You see, it was a very eerie museum. Nobody who went in ever came out. So, you see, I just had to go in, for better worse. You are probably very curious how I survived. Well, I will tell you.

Chapter 2 – The Museum Nights

When I was about 25 years old, I heard that there was an apartment space available next to the Withazoria Museum of Science! I was as excited as a boy who had just gotten his first bike! I had heard that it was a haunted museum, and I really wanted to go because I loved going on dangerous missions! But when I came to the museum, I was extremely disappointed. There were no million year-old cobwebs, or dinosaur fossils that come to life and eat you! It looked like an ordinary museum!

Then, it happened. The doors to the museum slammed behind me. I was the only living creature in the museum-or at least that's what I thought. Something didn't feel right. Whether it was that a 10 year-old science textbook was floating in mid-air or that I was getting out the paper and pen without even knowing it, I do not know. Then, the science textbook opened itself up to page 1. I, somehow, knew what I had to do. I answered all of the questions. When I finished, some of the questions that I had answered on my paper vanished, so I figured out that the Museum must be trying to tell me that I got them incorrect.

When I was hungry, I ate "dates" and "Sundays" off of the prehistoric calendar, and drank from the springs in the specially preserved 4,000 year old mattress.

Each day I had to go through the same process-until all of the questions were answered correctly. Then, I flipped the paper over and wrote a poem. It felt like torture – all of that learning. But, all of the time I was doing this, I felt that the animals around me in the museum were helping me answer the question correctly.

Chapter 3 - The Scientist

As I became smarter and smarter each day, I realized that the animals and the museum were not torturing me, they were actually helping me! When I finished answering all of the questions on day, I decided to have a look around the museum. I saw the polar bear who helped me with my problems on exhibit 6A, the hippo who helped me with homework on 5C, and the lion who helped me learn about lasers on 3B.

"Thank you!" I whispered to them. I turned to walk away.

"No problem!" They called back after me.

I rubbed my eyes and looked back at the exhibits. Everything looked like the way it had been before. I turned back around.

"Great scientists were here once, you know." I heard someone, or something say behind me.

I looked back, and all of the animals were all waving at me! WAVING AT ME! I waved back, and then I disappeared from the museum.

When I opened my eyes and found myself in my apartment, I knew was I was going to do. I don't know exactly how it happened, but I became a well-known poet, and a well-known scientist. Stories about my nights at the museum were published, even though people thought them to be fiction. To this day I don't know whether my nights at the museum was just a bad (or good!) dream, or reality. But what I do know is that those museum nights made me, well, me - Albert Einstein!