Some people call me a conspiracy theorist. Some people call me crazy. And by "some people", I really mean "my family". Currently, I'm upstairs in my bedroom, feeling down because neither my parents nor my brother would listen to me at dinner, even when I was talking about something other than the rumours and whispers I'd recently heard concerning a certain museum located a few minutes' walk away from our house.

"...come to life..."

"...lights and music coming from the place in the middle of the night…

"...roaming the streets…"

"...dinosaur tracks…"

Either the nightguard at that museum is conducting an elaborate publicity stunt or something truly magical is happening in that place.

I glance up at my walls, staring at the photos up there: Teddy Roosevelt, Sacagawea, the dinosaur skeleton, the Neanderthals, Attila the Hun, Pharaoh Ahkmenrah's tablet, Neil Armstrong, Florence Nightingale, the Roman diorama, the Wild West diorama, the Hall of African Mammals… I've had my photo taken with nearly every exhibit in that museum. My classmates taunt me and say I need to get a life, but history IS my life. Other seventeen-year-old girls in my class are always going out to parties, shopping, hanging out, stuff like that. But I've always been an odd duck; I hate that kind of stuff. I'd much rather hang out with wax exhibits instead. Hence the taunting.

Out the corner of my eye, I spot someone coming into the doorway of my room.

"Go away," I snap, before the person can say anything.

"Mom says to come down and get some fruit," responds my older brother, Nathan.

"Tell her I'm going to bed now."

"Fine."

Nathan disappears.

I wait until I hear his footsteps on the stairs, before hopping off my bed and heading over to where my backpack is sitting. I arrange my cushions and a couple of soft toys in the bed in such a way that, if someone looked into the dark room, they would think it was me under the covers. I often sleep very lightly, so my parents avoid coming into my room while I'm sleeping if they can avoid it. I'm a little afraid that they'll get suspicious because I'm apparently going to bed at six o'clock in the evening, but I haven't really been sleeping well lately, so maybe they won't question it.

I change out of my pyjamas and hide them under the covers as well. I pull on jeans, a blue flannel shirt, and black converse shoes, before slinging my backpack onto my back and opening my bedroom window. I climb out onto the sloping bit of roof directly under me, then I carefully drop down to the ground and, being sure to avoid any windows, sneak out onto the road. Like I previously mentioned, it's only a five minute walk to the museum from where I live.

I know what I'm about to do is pretty illegal, I know that. But I can't help it; I've always had an insatiable curiosity when it comes to history and enigmas like these, especially when it's surrounding my favourite place on Earth: the Museum of Natural History, New York. "Where history comes to life" is their motto, and maybe it's not hyperbole after all. I need to find out exactly what's happening in that place or I'll go mad. I can't spend another day being ignored and ridiculed by my friends and family for my "wild theories"; I just can't.

I reach the museum just as the sun is beginning to set. I sneak my way through the revolving front door and immediately dart behind the stairs, avoiding the detection of the nightguard, who is standing behind the reception desk underneath the revolving globe, tidying away some papers. The museum otherwise looks empty, and no wonder; the sun is about five minutes away from setting.

I wait until the nightguard leaves the reception desk and heads off down the corridor, before hopping out from my hiding spot and dashing up the stairs. I'm not sure where I'm going to start my investigation, but if exhibits are going to be "coming to life" tonight, then I'm certainly not going to begin in the Hall of African Mammals.

Eventually, I decide that the Ancient Egypt exhibit is the best place to begin my search. It's secluded and there're gates to protect me. Plus, I love looking at that golden tablet on the wall. I guess it'd look really bad for me if I'm caught there, with an item of such immense value just a few metres away, but as long as I'm careful, I doubt I'll be caught.

When I reach the exhibit, I rush past the two jackal statues and into the room at the end with the tablet and the pharaoh's coffin. It's absolutely gorgeous, with its glowing golden shape and intricate hieroglyph detail. I wish I had one for myself, honestly, Maybe I should suggest the gift shop here start selling keyrings of it or something. I'd totally buy one. Or twenty.

"Sunset is coming," I mutter, glancing down at my watch.

At that exact moment, the tablet begins glowing brightly, the hieroglyphs on it shining directly in my face. My eyes widen, but what happens just after that is the thing that shocks me the most.

The lid of the pharaoh's coffin begins to move.