The grand entrance hall of a natural history museum at night, lit only by pale moonlight streaming through high arched windows. Towering exhibit banners hang on either side. Sue and Fillbert stand together at the center of the marble floor, both looking straight up with nearly identical wide-eyed, open-mouthed expressions. Just above their heads, a small brown bat swoops through the moonbeam, wings fully spread. The shadow of the bat stretches large and dramatic across the marble floor below them. Fillbert's acorn-cap hat is slightly tilted. A mounted ancient whale skeleton is barely visible through the shadows in the background.
Our Path

Sue and the Museum Ghost

The museum is dark. The museum is quiet. The museum is supposed to be empty. "OOOooooOOO!" Sue stops. "Is it a ghost?!" Fillbert pushes up his acorn hat. "Scouts don't believe in ghosts." Then a shadow swoops right over their heads. "OOOooooOOO!" "Is it a ghost?!" they both yell. It's a bat. Just a bat. The bat flies away. "...Scouts don't believe in ghosts," says Fillbert, again. Louder this time.