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Echoes of the Forgotten Tomb
#WritcoStoryPrompt35
The discovery was mind blowing by most standards. I mean who unearths an Egyptian mummy after so many centuries?
"Dr.Hima! "
I turn surprised by my assistant's shout. His wide, frightened eyes stare back at me. "What is it, Ron?"
He points at the corner of the mummy's coffin. "That's dried blood, Dr. I think there's someone else in there with that mummy."
The discovery was mind-blowing by most standards. I mean, who unearths an Egyptian mummy after so many centuries?
“Dr. Hima!”
I turn, surprised by my assistant's shout. His wide, frightened eyes stare back at me. “What is it, Ron?”
He points at the corner of the mummy's coffin. “That’s dried blood, Dr. I think there’s someone else in there with that mummy.”
I quickly shine my flashlight at the spot Ron’s trembling finger indicates. The blood is indeed there, dark and crusted, unmistakable against the aged wood of the coffin. My heart races as my mind tries to comprehend the implications. This wasn’t just a mummy's tomb; it was a potential crime scene frozen in time.
“Get back, Ron. We need to document this,” I say, keeping my voice steady, even though my hands are shaking. We’ve worked together for years, but nothing has prepared us for something like this.
We carefully step back from the coffin, and I instruct Ron to start filming. As he does, I pull out my phone to call in reinforcements from the museum’s forensic team. The air feels thick with dust and anticipation as we wait, each second stretching into an eternity.
When the team arrives, they swiftly take over, setting up a perimeter and bringing in specialized lights and equipment. One of the forensic archaeologists, Dr. Meredith Chase, approaches me with a serious expression.
“Dr. Hima, we’re going to carefully remove the top of the coffin. Please step back with your team,” she instructs, and we comply, retreating to a safer distance.
As Dr. Chase and her team begin their delicate work, the room falls silent, all eyes on the coffin. The lid creaks as it’s slowly lifted away, revealing the mummy, wrapped tightly in its linen shrouds. But it’s not just the mummy that captures our attention.
There, wedged into the corner of the coffin, is a small, shriveled figure—definitely not a mummy. It’s a human skeleton, its bones darkened with age, and, more disturbingly, traces of dried blood are visible on the remains and on the linen wrappings of the mummy.
The air feels colder, and I instinctively shiver, an unease creeping up my spine.
“What on earth happened here?” Ron whispers beside me, echoing the question spinning in my mind.
Dr. Chase examines the scene carefully, her face pale but composed. “This is no ordinary burial,” she says quietly. “This person must have been trapped alive, buried with the mummy. We’re looking at a case of ancient human sacrifice…or something far more sinister.”
My heart sinks. The weight of this discovery is almost too much to bear. How many years had this person spent entombed, lost in the annals of time, a tragic secret buried with the pharaohs?
As the forensic team continues to work, revealing more of the grim scene, I can’t help but feel a strange pull, a connection to the soul that once inhabited those bones. What story remains untold, locked within this forgotten tomb?
And then, almost as if in response to my thoughts, a sudden gust of wind blows through the chamber, snuffing out several of the lights. The temperature drops sharply, and a low whisper, barely audible, echoes through the room.
“Help me…”
Ron and I exchange horrified glances. We both heard it.
Dr. Chase looks up sharply. “Did anyone else hear that?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly.
Before anyone can answer, the coffin lid suddenly slams shut with a force that shakes the ground. The lights flicker, casting eerie shadows on the ancient walls, and the whispering grows louder, more insistent.
“Help me…free me…”
A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. The room feels alive with something unseen, something ancient and desperate.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “We need to leave. Now,” I say, urgency clear in my voice.
But as we turn to go, the whisper transforms into a wail, a cry of torment that echoes through the chamber, filling our ears and our minds with its desperate plea.
And in that moment, I realize the true horror of our discovery: we have awakened a spirit trapped for centuries, bound by a curse that no one in this room can hope to understand or escape.
As we scramble out of the tomb, the ancient wail follows us, a chilling reminder that some secrets are best left buried.
© poembyselly
The discovery was mind blowing by most standards. I mean who unearths an Egyptian mummy after so many centuries?
"Dr.Hima! "
I turn surprised by my assistant's shout. His wide, frightened eyes stare back at me. "What is it, Ron?"
He points at the corner of the mummy's coffin. "That's dried blood, Dr. I think there's someone else in there with that mummy."
The discovery was mind-blowing by most standards. I mean, who unearths an Egyptian mummy after so many centuries?
“Dr. Hima!”
I turn, surprised by my assistant's shout. His wide, frightened eyes stare back at me. “What is it, Ron?”
He points at the corner of the mummy's coffin. “That’s dried blood, Dr. I think there’s someone else in there with that mummy.”
I quickly shine my flashlight at the spot Ron’s trembling finger indicates. The blood is indeed there, dark and crusted, unmistakable against the aged wood of the coffin. My heart races as my mind tries to comprehend the implications. This wasn’t just a mummy's tomb; it was a potential crime scene frozen in time.
“Get back, Ron. We need to document this,” I say, keeping my voice steady, even though my hands are shaking. We’ve worked together for years, but nothing has prepared us for something like this.
We carefully step back from the coffin, and I instruct Ron to start filming. As he does, I pull out my phone to call in reinforcements from the museum’s forensic team. The air feels thick with dust and anticipation as we wait, each second stretching into an eternity.
When the team arrives, they swiftly take over, setting up a perimeter and bringing in specialized lights and equipment. One of the forensic archaeologists, Dr. Meredith Chase, approaches me with a serious expression.
“Dr. Hima, we’re going to carefully remove the top of the coffin. Please step back with your team,” she instructs, and we comply, retreating to a safer distance.
As Dr. Chase and her team begin their delicate work, the room falls silent, all eyes on the coffin. The lid creaks as it’s slowly lifted away, revealing the mummy, wrapped tightly in its linen shrouds. But it’s not just the mummy that captures our attention.
There, wedged into the corner of the coffin, is a small, shriveled figure—definitely not a mummy. It’s a human skeleton, its bones darkened with age, and, more disturbingly, traces of dried blood are visible on the remains and on the linen wrappings of the mummy.
The air feels colder, and I instinctively shiver, an unease creeping up my spine.
“What on earth happened here?” Ron whispers beside me, echoing the question spinning in my mind.
Dr. Chase examines the scene carefully, her face pale but composed. “This is no ordinary burial,” she says quietly. “This person must have been trapped alive, buried with the mummy. We’re looking at a case of ancient human sacrifice…or something far more sinister.”
My heart sinks. The weight of this discovery is almost too much to bear. How many years had this person spent entombed, lost in the annals of time, a tragic secret buried with the pharaohs?
As the forensic team continues to work, revealing more of the grim scene, I can’t help but feel a strange pull, a connection to the soul that once inhabited those bones. What story remains untold, locked within this forgotten tomb?
And then, almost as if in response to my thoughts, a sudden gust of wind blows through the chamber, snuffing out several of the lights. The temperature drops sharply, and a low whisper, barely audible, echoes through the room.
“Help me…”
Ron and I exchange horrified glances. We both heard it.
Dr. Chase looks up sharply. “Did anyone else hear that?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly.
Before anyone can answer, the coffin lid suddenly slams shut with a force that shakes the ground. The lights flicker, casting eerie shadows on the ancient walls, and the whispering grows louder, more insistent.
“Help me…free me…”
A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. The room feels alive with something unseen, something ancient and desperate.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “We need to leave. Now,” I say, urgency clear in my voice.
But as we turn to go, the whisper transforms into a wail, a cry of torment that echoes through the chamber, filling our ears and our minds with its desperate plea.
And in that moment, I realize the true horror of our discovery: we have awakened a spirit trapped for centuries, bound by a curse that no one in this room can hope to understand or escape.
As we scramble out of the tomb, the ancient wail follows us, a chilling reminder that some secrets are best left buried.
© poembyselly
