The long lost diary of the mummy

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The long lost diary of the mummy

 “Welcome to San Francisco,” the tour guide, said with a smirk her blond hair glowing in the sun. Her voice echoed in the marble lobby of the tall office building. “This is the famous pyramid building the city’s most famous sky scraper.”

“When do we get to see the mummy?” My four-year-old sister whines at my side. I cringed and squeezed my sister Prêtte’s hand. I wished I didn’t have to drag her around.

Although after all it was my duty to take care of her during family vacations.

Oh, well, I think. Who cares? This is going to be the greatest vacation ever. My family and me are staying in a hotel in down town San Francisco. I have a view of the whole city from my window including the tall spindly pyramid just a few blocks away. And this month there is a display of ancient Egyptian artifacts in the lobby. Including a real life mummy! I can’t wait to check it out!

“I want the mummy!  I want the mummy!  I want the mummy!!” Prêtte whines again.

“I want my mummy! I want my mummy! I want my mummy!!” my older brother Tony chants, imitating Prêtte’s babyish voice I laugh at Tony joke. Then I whisper to Prêtte “we’ll see it as soon as that tour group get out of the way.” I peered through the crowd at the mummy in the glass case. Wait a second did that mummy just moving. My heart starts to pound. It can’t be it just can’t be. Mummies can’t move they are supposed to be dead. Although it wasn’t so convincing that the mummy was alive or even moving for some unexpected reason, I knew the mummy did move in my heart. I knew that what ever happened I did see the mummy move its arm towards me. Why didn’t anyone else see what I just saw? Maybe those mummy movies are really getting to me like my mum always says to me. I stared hard at the display case in the middle of the lobby then I seem to go all cold. A strange chill runs up my spine, as I get closer. Then the other group’s tour guide snaps at me, which startles me a bit, he tells me to get back to my own group or I might get lost.

Something about this place gives me the creep I say to my self. The other tour group eventually drift away from the mummies display case. “Come on!” Prêtte squeals pulling me towards the mummy case. I shivered, as I got closer, the whole lobby suddenly seemed to get colder as I walked towards the display, which contained the mummy. I gazed at the mummies face and shuddered. Its hideous part of its face was still wrapped up and part wasn’t. I could see dry and leathery skin I could also see where there must have been a blood clot it was on the side of the mummies head and you could see some of the content of the head and stomach. The content of its stomach must have oozed out as the mummies stomach exploded it must of bloated because of the access amount of methane gas in its stomach. There were still some ancient bloodstains on the bandages, the leathery skin was stretched tightly over the mummies shrunken bony nose. I back away and my foot bumped into something on the floor. I glanced down to see what I had kicked on the floor.

“Look what I have found!” I cried out softly but no one was listening it was as though they had gone deaf for the split second I had been talking. The whole tour group scattered. Prêtte let go of my hand, she was pressing her nose against the glass in front of the wooden mummy case. As usual my sixteen year old brother, Tony, was acting as though he did not know any of us. He was talking to some girl by the door. My parents examined another display case.

No one notices what I have just recently discovered a few seconds ago. I pick the item up. It’s a small clump of folded pages tied together at the edge with dried grass. It looked like some kind of ancient book. I opened it carefully, the pages seemed as if they would crumble in my hands. I peered at the squiggly markings on the page. To my surprise I recognised the words they seemed to be in English! The handwriting was hard to read but I finally figured out it said:

“This is the first day in my tomb. I am wrapped so tightly that I may never breathe again. The bandages that preserve me are a prison. I am a king, yet they brought me here, boiled me and bound me with this bandages. Against my will! Stop! I beg them. Do not do this horrible thing! I am not dead! I am alive!”

My mouth drops open I flip through the ancient pages. Could this be a diary of some kind I wondered, a mummies diary, except shouldn’t the diary be hieroglyphics I thought.

Join now!

This is weird I said to my self definitely weird. Against all odds I still thought the diary was real even though it wasn’t in hieroglyphics. I turned over the page and read on:

         

“I am embalmed alive. Me. The pharaoh. The king! And why? For one reason only. Because upon my neck, I bear a strange birthmark-a red stain in a strange shape that frighten my people. They think it is a sign of evil.

Even I am not sure what it means. Does it mean I am evil? Could I actually hurt people? ...

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