“No one knows more about this than you. So, help me out here a little. I’m just the pyramid guy,” said David. “We’re looking for any signs of….” He looked expectantly at Anna to fill in his sentence.
“For signs of haunting or supernatural discontent,” Anna finished, “which could be just about anything. We just have to start looking around.”
Anna peered down the stairs, seeing each step leading further into the darkest tomb she had ever visited. The darkness at the bottom seemed like an abyss, her mind nagging that this chaos held the answers to immortality.
Without waiting for David, she began hastening towards the abyss. “We should probably start in the Prince’s Chamber: that’s where the most incidents were.”
Watching their steps, they proceeded down into the tomb, Anna’s flashlight beam invading the abyss. Anna and David walked quickly down, though they could see only a few feet ahead, stepping from one section of darkness into another. Anna’s anxiety impelled her to feel entrapped in this particular tomb; but, she felt pacified by David behind her, her partner for the last half-year.
At last, they reached a break in the stairs: the steps leveled out, another dark tunnel leading to their left. As David came up beside her, Anna shined her light to the side, seeing a dulled, gold door, shut.
“Must be the Queen’s Chamber,” David said.
They journeyed down one more level until the stairs ran right down into the Prince’s Chamber, the lowest spot of the tomb. A huge room with more sandy interior, its walls were strong, the sand still solidly packed and not disintegrating to the floor.
Anna and David quickly stepped down, Anna feeling the hard floor beneath her. She instantly started looking around, quickly turning her head round almost like an owl. Painted along the walls like a modern wall border were strips of Egyptian funeral scenes and passages to immortality. Jars with animal head tops were scattered on the floor near the back. Some jars still stood and some were toppled over, their lids strewn several feet away. Sitting in separate corners, the only gold pieces in the room were two huge statues of sphinx-like creatures with jackal heads. Clay pots sat in tidy rows along the ground against the walls. And in the center lay a sarcophagus of worn black stone, its top painted with a dissolving picture of an elegant masked figure.
David walked alongside the walls, looking back at the scattered jars.
“The prince that never became king: that in itself is a reason for spiritual discontent,” he said, referring to the fact that Prince Revvel’s tomb was built before he died of a virus, before he even took the throne. ©Brenna Pierson