As the sun sets, the museum closes. But I still wander through the exhibits.
Bang! The lights flick off. The doors slam.
Carefully, I pull, tug, and shimmy the door open—but nothing works.
Defeated, weary, darkness creeps in. 
Everything towers over me. In the room as dark as ebony, I feel like an ant.

Far away, drums beat—thump, thump, thump.
Ghost-like thoughts haunt me. What will I do? What is that sound? Who else is in here?”
Hurriedly, I tip-toe towards the music, shaking, shivering, and shuddering with fear.
Instincts take over. Cautiously, I approach the noise. 
Jagged faces on imposing figures march in a circle around me.

Knowing now where I am, I giggle.
Lighting-fast, I remember my phone. I illuminate the space around me.
Multiple people surround me. They aren’t flesh and blood, but constructed of plastic and metal.
Native Americans celebrate their culture..
Oblivious to the outside world, they stand stoically on pedestals.

Past the pow-wow, I scurry, eager to explore the museum.
Quietly, I roam the deserted halls.
Rarely has anyone seen my unique, personal tour.
Soon the sun will rise and my escapade conclude.
Time to return, sunlight filters in through the delicate glass windows.

Untouched by time, the museum will continue to inspire those who enter.
Vast rooms will continue to brim with artifacts.
Xenophobes beware: the museum is filled with life.
Walking out the door, my heart leaps.
Yesterday’s adventure remains imprinted. The vibrant beat of the drum reverberates.

Zoos aren’t the only places that come alive after dark...trust me, I’ve seen the museum at night!