Tickle Torture Tales: The Tomb of Torment

CHAPTER ONE: NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM

A light breeze blowing in from the north-east, leaving a scattering of Saharan sand in its wake as it whirled and weaved its way across Cairo, afforded the 6 million or more citizens little respite from the blistering heat of the early evening sun beating down upon the dusty streets; The City of a Thousand Minarets sweltering in a summer heatwave as temperatures topped 48°C.

At the heart of the heaving metropolis, the Nile lapped lazily along beneath a permanent cloud of pollution caused by carbon dioxide, sulphur dioxide, lead and the like; the emissions from the many thousands of motor vehicles attempting to cross the congested city centre affecting the air quality to a dangerous degree.

Beside the river's east bank lay Tahrir Square, basking beneath the searing rays of the sun as it slowly began its descent beyond the Great Sphinx and its surrounding pyramid complex to the west of the city; a short distance to the north of the square stood the Egyptian Museum, its tall, white, oval-topped entrance surrounded by red brick walls currently closed to the public. The impressive interior of the museum housed a collection of over a 120,000 antiquities plundered from Egypt's past, its basement storerooms home to many more; amongst them ancient coins, sombre statues, crumbling papyrus and priceless death masks depicting the pharaohs themselves, each of which were inlaid with a wealth of solid gold.

High above the museum, heavy clouds began to sweep across the skies, blowing in from the east, completely at odds with the wind direction; dark, ominous storm clouds laden with an overwhelming sense of doom as they settled over the sprawling metropolis below.

Inside a cramped, air conditioned office of the museum, an attractive young woman by the name of Petra Fayed, employed in the capacity of an assistant curator, set down her fountain pen upon the desk at which she was seated; staring out through an open window several feet above street level, a pair of enchanting, almond-coloured eyes nestled beneath an obstinate fringe of obsidian locks framing tawny features, settled on the swirling storm clouds sweeping across the skies.

As dusk descended upon the streets of Cairo, a flash of forked lightning flickered across the horizon, followed by a distant rumble of thunder; soon, the heavens themselves had opened high above the metropolis, at once washing away the accumulation of dust and desert sand in the downpour. As the assistant curator, her slinky torso attired in a low-buttoned blouse of white cotton displaying the deep canyon of her cleavage, with cream-coloured skirt falling as far as the knees and feet slipped into a pair of thong sandals fashioned from leather, picked up her pen prior to returning to the pressing matter of the ever-increasing pile of paperwork that had somehow found its way into the office, stealthily slipped inside an intray by unseen hands, the overhead light began to flicker; finally its glow faded altogether.

With a frown of frustration somewhat spoiling the pretty features of her face as the office was instantly plunged into darkness, Petra's left hand at once stretched out towards the spotlight standing upon the surface of her desk; flipping the power switch several times, she was finally forced to admit defeat. Peering towards the window once more as above the museum the storm intensified, the assistant curator looked on as one by one the many thousands of lights flickering like fireflies beyond the open pane began to dwindle; perhaps a stray bolt of lightning had struck the city's power station, she pondered.

Of course, the power failure had caused the air conditioning unit to fail, the oppressive heat at once overwhelming the young woman; in the darkened square below, great whoops of delight reached her ears as tourists and locals alike revelled beneath the refreshing rainfall flooding the flagstones. Yet as a fearful flash of lightning no little distance away illuminated the office for a split second, accompanied by an almost deafening roar of thunder echoing amongst the many buildings bordering the square, the revellers soon took to their heels; scurrying at once to safety.