He stood, he saw, The cobwebs, the mess. Lone and musty was the Manor. Quiet and dusty was the room. Alone in the dark, He heard a shrill voice. His breath quickened, he shook. A chill ran down his spine. He turned. And then, he breathed no more.
It is one thing to be inspired and the other to be stupid.
Turns out, there is a very thin line between them.