As I led the museum tour, I noticed something strange. Perhaps it was just a marble statue, or possibly others and their voices through the big echoey galleries. As I came home I noticed something. Something written on my books from the glass cases full of really old black and orange poetry. But as I came to, ...it was gone. My last relative, a math teacher, had a nervous breakdown before my eyes. I was a lost soul with many others that day. But I knew it was not true. Deep down I knew, but I said nothing. Deep down I figured I was devil spawn
