“So that’s all you’ll need to know for tomorrow’s essay,” Mrs. Willow sighs. “You can go and read your books… or whatever,” she finishes with an eye roll and limps back to her chair. Her grey hair bounces as she maneuvers back to her teacher desk at the back of the room. It had a bin of perfectly sharpened pencils on it next to a neat pile of textbooks. Her stiff wooden chair creeks as she plops down into it. The neatly arranged classroom grows quiet as kids around me take out their books. A huge smile forms on my face. I get to start my new book! I pull out the worn copy of African Elephants: The Mammal that Stomps Across the World, and open to page one. The text on the first page looks messy and quickly written. It could’ve been handwritten? I think skeptically. “We need you. I know my time is over, but yours is definitely not,” I read. What? That’s not how a book about elephants is supposed to start. I see a gleam at the top of the page and run my finger over the smooth surface. Tape? I gently start to peel at the tape until it comes off, along with what I thought was the first page. The real first words of the book reveal themselves to me as I finish peeling off the paper. I glance back to where Mrs. Willow is sitting to see her entranced by her phone.
“The largest land mammal known to man, called the African Elephant, can weigh up to 6.5 tons, or 13,000 pounds! Their scientific name is Loxodonta. They can usually be found in…” I continue reading, immersed in the black little letters on that yellowing page. Of course, I knew all this already, my elephant lover reputation has followed me since preschool. Nonetheless, I enjoyed refreshing the facts in my mind. The note is the last thing on my mind, until Grayson taps me on the shoulder from behind and points to it on my desk.
“Hey, what’s that?” He asks. “I saw you peel it out of your book.” I turn to my twin brother and twirl my long wavy hair around my finger.
“It’s a note, it looks like it’s pretty old!” I whisper back, looking at the crumpling edges of the paper.
“What does it say?” he questions. I pick up the note and gently unfold it.
“We need you. I know my time is over, but yours is definitely not. Grace, you’ve found this for a reason.” I stop reading there as my jaw drops. Grayson looks up at me, his eyes wide.
“Go on,” he urges me. I start to speak again when someone interrupts me.
“Are we talking during reading time, Ms. Hall?” Mrs. Willow’s nasal voice calls out from the back of the room, where she continues to stare at her phone while her feet are propped up on the teacher desk. A few student’s eyes wander over to me.
“No, Mrs. Willow,” I quietly reply as my cheeks grow red. “Tell you later,” I quickly whisper to Grayson and turn back to my book.
***
“Hey, Grace!” my brother’s voice calls out. I turn around to see him sprinting across the green grassy field in front of the school towards me.
“Hey!” I wave. He reaches me, panting.
“Why didn’t you wait for me? We always walk home together,” he inquires, frowning.
“I’m sorry, Gray, I was just rushing home to read the note,” I apologize. I left him alone without thinking about him, how could I forget, we go home together every day. We start walking back to our house.
“Wait,” he stopped in his tracks. “You didn’t read it yet?”
“Well, no, I was going home where it would be safer,” I explained.
“Oh, that’s smart,” he replied, looking off into the distance.
“So, anyways, let’s get home quick, I can’t believe my name was on that note!” I skipped down the street, passing multiple Victorian homes.
“Yeah, you must be really important,” he rolled his eyes as a look of jealousy crossed his face, but was soon wiped off when he laughed. I looked at him, knitting my eyebrows together for a second, and he glanced at me but quickly looked forward again.
We come to a crosswalk where we stop as the green light flickers on. A bunch of cars pass through the intersection before we cross the street. A gust of wind blows past us, pushing my light brown hair into my eyes. I tug it away with the sleeve of my sweater and continue walking.
Somehow, our Dad is brought into the conversation.
“I miss him,” Gray looks down.
“Same, it’s not his fault the plane engine blew out. He was a good pilot, he didn’t deserve it.”
“Well, unfortunately, life isn’t fair,” Gray states. I nod and the rest of the way we walk in silence. We finally arrive at our house. The lawn is infested with all different colored leaves, and the grass is too long to be considered a yard. It’s more like a disheveled farm. The loose patio stones rattle from beneath us as we walk over to the door. My brother knocks on the splintered wood of the once white door.
“It’s unlocked!” my mother’s singsong voice echoes. Grayson pushes open the door and holds it open for me.
“Thanks,” I walk through and kick off my shoes. Suddenly our mom appears, running at us with open arms and oven mitts on her hands.
“Hey guys, how were your days?” she asks and smiled as we leaned into her embrace.
“Good.”
“Good.”
Grayson and I mumble.
“Great! I made some chocolate chip muffins for you both!” Mom pulls away from the hug and motions her hand towards the kitchen.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Grayson and I dash over to the kitchen. I hear my mom laugh from where we left her.
“I call this one!” I announce, reaching over to grab the biggest one on the metal baking stand.
“Fine,” Grayson pouts and grabs a smaller one. We both scarf down the muffins and run upstairs to my room. He throws his backpack to the ground right beside my desk. I reach into mine and pluck out the note from the safe pouch where I hid it.
“Hurry upppp,” Grayson whines and stands at my desk. I roll my eyes and walk over, unfolding the note. I place it on the desk and sit down. Taking a deep breath, I look up at Grayson, and back down.
We need you. I know my time is over, but yours is definitely not. Grace, you’ve found this for a reason. You have to contact this agency. Here’s the number: 223-2537-4873. Do not show this to ANYONE, it’s highly classified information and I trust you with it. The museum on East Hill is extremely dangerous, and that’s where I’m writing this from. I don’t have much time. The truth is, I never died in a plane crash. I died here, in this museum. I’m not a pilot. I am the captain of the agency. They’ll know what to do once you give them the key attached to this note. Be safe, please stay away from the museum.
I love you and I’ll miss you guys.
-Dad
My voice cracks at the last sentence. Drop by drop, the wrinkled paper becomes wet as water cascades from my eyes. I feel a hand on my shoulder but I can’t look up. My mind becomes foggy as I focus on those last words. “I love you and I’ll miss you guys. -Dad.”

Why didn’t Dad write a note to me? I’m equally as important to him as Grace. Taking my hand off of Grace’s shoulder, I turn around and ball up my fists. Right then and there, I make one of the most important decisions of my life. I’m going to East hill to find that museum. I don’t know what’s wrong with it, but I’m sure I can handle it. I’m going to show the world I’m as good as Grace.

I no longer feel my brother’s hand on my shoulder and the sound of his footsteps slowly grows quieter. I look up at the doorway, where the door is slowly closing. I rush out of my room and down the stairs, catching Grayson before he leaves the house.
“Where are you going, Gray?” I ask, wiping the salty tears from my eyes. He turns around, smirks at me, and holds up a key.
“The museum.” He places his left hand on the golden doorknob and twists, running out the house.
“What? You can’t-” the door slams closed inches away from my face, cutting me off with a loud thud. I stand there, frozen. This isn’t like my brother, what’s gotten into him?

I’m starting to feel bad about slamming the door in my sister’s face. I can’t stop now, though. This has to be done, or else I’ll keep being known as the irresponsible twin, living in his sister’s shadow.
“Grayson, wait!” I hear a high pitched voice from a few yards behind me. Ugh, of course she’d follow me.
“I’ll be fine, Grace, let me take care of this!” I yell over my shoulder and sprint even faster.
“Are you crazy? Grayson Hall, you’ll DIE! It said in the note that Dad-” her voice faded as I got farther away from her. I slowed to a jog as the atmosphere started to grow darker. The trees had no leaves, the grass was extremely long, and the air became thick with fog. It was almost like a scene from a horror movie, but the building was the scariest part. It was made of brick, but extremely dirty and uncared for on the outside. Most of the windows were shattered, the still in-tact ones were foggy as if they’ve never been cleaned.
“Wow,” I hear from behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Turning around, I see my sister, standing with her hands on her hips, biting her lip while she stares at the museum.
“Gosh, Grace, could you give me a warning before creeping up behind me while I’m right in front of a haunted looking museum!” I snap. She looks at me and puts her hands up in defense.
“Sorry, sorry, you deserved it though,” she turns back to the museum and I roll my eyes.
“Heat museum?” she reads. This is the only museum on East Hill. This must be it.
I turn to the building, looking at the crooked white illuminated letters above the doorway. They look like they’re hanging on a thread. I see something glint behind the bush near the doorway. I start walking over.
“Gray, wait!” Grace runs towards me and grabs my arm to pull me back.
“No, look,” I point to what I saw behind the bush. I watch her face form from worry to curiosity and she steps towards the object.

“Don’t touch it,” Gray warns from behind me. I pull back the leaves of the bush, revealing a glowing letter D just like the letters above the doorway. He walks over and sees what I’m looking at. Against what he said before, he picks it up and raises it so that it’s aligned with the other letters on the building.
“Dheat?” I ask. He shushes me, I can see the gears turning in his mind.
After a second he mutters, “Death…” He walks to the wall and rearranges the letters so the word DEATH is above the doorway. Before I can say anything, the doors fling open abruptly, causing me to jump and lose my balance, falling into the museum. I let out a yelp as I land on the hard floor.
“Grace!” my brother hollers, rushing through the doors to help me up from the floor. They slam closed behind us, trapping us inside.
“What the-“ Gray starts, but I smack my hand over his mouth.
“Shhhh, there’s got to be something or someone in here to hear us if it’s literally called ‘DEATH Museum’!” I whisper-yell to my brother. His eyes are wide, but he nods. I look around, seeing blood streaked walls and floors. My heartbeat picks up. I see a few stone display cases with nothing on them. It was mostly just empty rooms in here. My eyes wander to a door labeled “Janitor Supplies”.
“Over there,” I whisper and motion behind me to the closet. He nods again and we both stand up, trying not to make a sound as we step across the room.
Gray clutches the handle and slowly turns it, trying not to make a sound.
“Open it slowly,” I advise, but it’s too late. The door flies open but a bunch of mops and buckets fall out on top of us. We both collapse to the floor in a heap of cleaning supplies. By now, I’m sure if there’s anything in here, it has heard us. In a split second, I stand up and grab my brother’s arm pulling him with me off to who knows where, leaving the mess behind. We end up sitting in a corner behind a bare display case, catching our breaths.
“I’m sorry,” Grayson’s voice breaks the silence.
“Keep your voice down, and it’s fine,” I reach my shaking hand into my pocket and feel for a slip of paper.
“No, it’s not,” Gray whispers. “We’re in here because of me. We’re going to die because of me!” His whisper turns into a yell. He reaches both his hands up and slams them down on his lap. I take a deep breath.
“Grayson, look at me,” He turns his head towards me and his emerald green eyes meet mine. “You have to be quiet, or we’re not getting out of here alive. You start screaming, freaking out, we’re dead. Now listen, we’re going to climb out of the-“ I stop as a loud clanking noise fills the room. Both of our eyes go wide as a wax-covered being enters the room. We shrink back down into the corner. Please don’t see us, please don’t- I feel a sadistic gaze on me. I try not to make eye contact, but it’s too late. He saw us.

“Run,” Grace demands, her eyes still wide in terror. I get up and we bolt out of the room. The clanking noise behind us doesn’t grow quieter, nor does it become louder. The adrenaline pushes my body faster than I thought possible. While we’re sprinting aimlessly around the museum, Grace looks at a piece of paper in her hand.
“Follow me,” she yells, then abruptly turns a corner.
So many questions were floating through my head as we were running. Why does this museum exist? Wouldn’t more people know about it? Why are wax figures lurking around here? Is this the doing of someone? Is this just part of a bigger problem? But the most predominant one: are we going to die?

We come to a room and I slam the door behind us. We both put our backs to the door, heavy breathing. We slide down to the floor.
“That was close,” Grayson jokes, but I can hear the pure fear in his voice.
“I hope there’s not another one in here,” I whisper. After a minute, I stand up and feel my hand around the wall until I feel a switch. I flick it up and the lights in the room turn on. Somehow, we ended up in a room full of blocks of ice and blood, but thankfully there were no wax figures to be seen.
“Well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Grayson shivers. Suddenly a rush of nausea hits me as I realize there were people trapped in the ice. I look over at Grayson and I’m guessing he realized the same thing by his expression.
“Are these all people who died here?” I ask. I scan my eyes over the at least 50 ice blocks that are in front of us. Right as my brother is about to reply, I catch a pair of emerald green eyes. A man in the ice. I walk over, running my hand over the huge block of frozen water.
“Is this-” I start, but Gray cuts me off.
“Dad?” he cries out.

I couldn’t take my gaze away from those cold, lifeless eyes. His lips were purple, and his light brown hair was dishevelled. There was blood coating his hip and his wrist, where the bone was sticking out. I wailed internally. A hand lay softly on my arm, breaking me from my thoughts.
My sister meekly looked up to me. I could see tears brimming her eyes.
“Let’s go turn off this death trap before anyone else ends up like him,” she proclaims, determined. I could only nod.
She pulls out the map, directing us through the doors and around the corner. We walk until we reach a dead end with a control panel on the wall.
“Alright, here’s the key. I’ll keep watch, be quick and careful!” she orders me. I grab the key and start getting to work. I find the keyhole and shove it quickly into the slot.
“Gray, they’re coming!” she screams and tries to get me to hurry up. The key won’t turn! I try to press it farther in but it wouldn’t budge. I remove it from the hole.
“What are you doing?!” she yells, constantly looking over her shoulder.
“It didn’t work for a second, just hold on, okay?” That’s when the clanking noise could be heard. My heart started racing in my chest. I flipped the key so that it was facing the opposite direction this time. Then, I inserted it. It still wouldn’t turn at all.

I paced back and forth across the hallway as the clanking grew louder. What are we going to do, what are we going to do?
“What’s wrong with this thing?” I hear Gray hiss. Then, a figure rounded the corner. The dripping wax. The red eyes. I was frozen, staring into those venomous orbs. Any control over my actions I had immediately vanished and all I had left was an unfunctional fight or flight response. My feet were glued to the floor and my mouth was tied shut. Its eyes were trained on the metal in Gray’s hand. Grayson was still trying to get it to work, of course, so he didn’t notice the figure until it suddenly sprinted towards us at full speed. The next thing I knew, I was flying through the air, landing on the monster. I let out a shrill screech as it caught me.
“Grace!” my brother shrieked. Then, all I could feel was pain. My eyesight turned white. I could feel the blood already wetting my favorite sweater. The energy was being drained out of me as fast as the blood rushing out of my leg. I grasped what energy I could muster and left my final message. The only thing on my mind was my brother’s safety.
“Get out of here,” I murmured, and then I took one last breath before I was trapped in an endless black abyss.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I could only gaze at my sister’s limp and bloody body laying across the floor, the wax figure standing above her. Chills ran through my spine as I realized it was looking directly at me.
Get out of here. Those words replayed in my head like a mantra. It’s as if my body starts moving on its own. I twist the key in the lock the correct way and a loud buzzing sound rings through the building. I pivot around and reality comes crashing down on me like a tidal wave. My sister is dead. Those words just sound wrong. I collapse to the ground, weeping over her. Get up, Grace! Get up! My tears soak her orange sweater. Out of the corner of my eye I see a pile of wax on the floor. I clench my jaw and look at it. It didn’t even look like it was alive to begin with. Something tears at my heart, ripping a part out that could only be replaced by one person. The person who’s currently sprawled across the floor.

“You’d be here if it wasn’t for me,” tears rolled down my cheeks and I looked down. I was knelt in the grass, dirt coating my knees, but I didn’t care. I looked back up and read the newly carved grey stone in front of me.

Here lies Grace Annabeth Hall
2006-2019
A loving daughter and twin sister

More tears fall out of my eyes. I look next to my sister’s gravestone.

Here lies David Isaac Hall
1974-2013
A loving husband and father

Liars. I rip a clump of grass out from the earth. There’s no bodies below those stones. They’re still in the museum, where I regretfully left them. Well, of course I couldn’t just carry a dead body over to a cemetery and start burying it. I wish I never went into that museum. I wish I listened to her. I wish I waited. I pushed myself up and walked away, kicking a rock and watching it roll across the road.
This was all my fault. I was the one who was jealous. I was the one who wanted to prove a point and made that decision. I was the one who walked into that museum, and like a lamb, she followed. Of course she followed. That’s just her nature. How could I be so selfish? Everything would be fine if it wasn’t for me and my ridiculous emotions. I kicked the rock again. Then, I stopped walking. My heart ached. The one person that truly understood me was gone.
People say losing someone really takes a toll on you. That is an understatement.
I replayed those final scenes in my head over and over, playing out everything I could’ve done differently. I could’ve grabbed her before she fell. I could’ve opened the closet slower. I could’ve called the agency. I could’ve listened to her from the beginning.
This all feels like a dream. Not long ago, my sister was just telling me to be quiet or we’ll die, and look at her now. I couldn’t do anything but blame myself.
I sat down on the curb, my head in my hands. I tugged at my hair. It should’ve been me! She wasn’t doing anything wrong.
I lost 2 people to that museum. 2 of the most important people in my life. But, from then on, I knew I wasn’t going to let anyone else pay the price for my mistakes.
I did eventually call the agency but there was just silence on the other end of the phone. As I walked I led myself to that dreadful, frightening building. I swore I could never lay eyes on it again, but here I was.
I looked up at the entrance and noticed that the luminous letters that previously read DEATH were now rearranged to say HATED. I felt the color drain from my face as goosebumps arose on my arms and legs. Then, I turned and ran as fast as I could.