I Found

ii. his suffering

Italics=Hieroglyphs.

A M U N E T

I immediately, grabbed the bag, which held my clothes, as I parked my car. I picked out some clothes fit for a tourist and my fake passport. I took off my top and put it in a bag for dirty clothes, choosing a shirt to wear over the tank top, I had previously worn under my top. I left the last button undone, tying the ends of the shirt together. I took off my boots, wearing my less worn boots instead.

I grabbed my comb, running it through my hair a few times before wrapping it up in a ponytail. I grabbed my camera, hanging it on my neck. I took a clean backpack with things, I would need, in order to look like a tourist. I had taken my goggles off and hidden them in my backpack before I took my scarf off my head and wrapped it around my neck.

I made my way to the tourist site, faking a curious look. It was the remains of an exposed Amun temple, barely saved by those who found it. Pillars stood everywhere but, sand covered the ground, burying half the once big temple. Nature really did get to it. I always believed that everything happened for a reason. That just like all the suffering to one person gives good outcome, nations were destroyed for a reason, too.

So, I let my thoughts drift into what the people of that temple did to have most of their temple buried four feet under. What cruelty had they possibly done? What crime had led to their memory getting buried? Even Imhotep had the Book of Death mention him and very few tapestries here and there.

I ran my hands over the engravings on one of the pillars, reading it with my eyes. I was always amazed with the stories they told. I was always amazed with the words, one pillar can tell - even if I had been there to witness those words unfolding or being written. Standing there, reading about the Great Medjai - the grand warrior of some queen, I tried to hide my surprise as I found that the queen was Nefertiti. I read further, finding more about them then, about Ahm Shere - the place, I never found because, someone had found it before me.

It felt nice sometimes to see that the people, I once knew, led a good life. To know that during the period, when I had been hidden in Lower Egypt, they still had been okay. They had still led a good life and had made a name for themselves.

Other times, it angered me. It angered me that they were cruel but were immortal in history while peaople like me lived for thousands of years, yet they wiped my name from history. It absolutely drove me mad how the first female teacher in history was wiped away and the title was instead given to some Greek bloke's daughter, who took her own life. Fire blazed in me, seeing how ungrateful they had been for all the blood and sweat, I had shed.

However, it did not matter anyway, for my anger was for naught.

As I read further, I found that the Great Medjai had married his queen after locking up the man who killed her father. The engravings described that man as cursed.. Horrible.. Inhumane.. Heartless.

And I could not help but, chuckle dryly. Egyptians. Always ones for theatrics.

Then, I continued on, reading about the criminal even more. I gasped in surprise. They wrote that he had been cursed with the Hom Dai curse. It was no news for me. I knew my old friend had been mummificated alive. I knew that they placed scarabs in his sarcophagus. What surprised me was that they wrote about it. This must have been engraved way after that period, as they wouldn't have written about it, then. Because no matter what a man could do, no one deserved to feel as they slowly dessicated. And they had known that.

But then, came my terror as I continued to read how they had placed him under that curse. Images ran through my mind as I pictured what had been done to my old friend. He had resisted until the last moment - until they wrapped him up and put him in sarcophagus. And even after that, it was written that at night and even during the day, they could still hear his struggling inside his sarcophagus that some bypassers tried to help but, were punished by the raging young queen.

I know where he had been buried and I had already checked so, reading about his whereabouts again, did not help. Then, after that.. Nothing. They had not even written his name. They had known a name gave a person power and even in death, they didn't give him that honour.

I swallowed the bile in my throat before continuing on.

I M H O T E P

Her voice whispered, pulling me from the depths of pain - reminding me that I shouldn't give up - that I should keep on fighting, for maybe it could all lessen if only for a bit. It reminded me of how she would rest her head against my shoulder as we'd read a book together. And I pushed a monster, which was clawing at my chest, off of me. More monsters grabbed at me, making me let out a shout of pain. But I had to keep fighting. I had to fight.

I let my head fill with thoughts of her, fueling me with power so that, I wouldn't give up. I thought of which had I preferred better - how her silky hair draped over my shoulder as her head rested there or the softness of the back of her hand or the callouses on her palms. I thought of what had made me prouder - watching her tiredly correct her students' homework or watching her read in content in our secret garden.

I thought of what had made me happier - how she had trusted me with everything or how she had stood by my side, even when I was in the wrong. I thought of what I had liked better - her laughs or her sweet voice as she talked. I thought of what I had loved better - her kindness and the sweetness of her heart or her strength and determination.. Or was it that sparkling smile, which had easily spread on her face whenever she saw me? Or was it that she had been the only person who loved me?

Or was it everything?

And I fought. I battled monsters, pushed dead people, pulled away from gaurds, all just to get out - all just to fight my way out if I could, wanting to find her. I wanted to apologize - beg for forgiveness and throw away my pride as I admitted that I was wrong. I wanted her to tell me it was okay - that maybe all the suffering and all the tears were worth it.

And I fought.

And suddenly, it all stopped as sand started rushing in, pushing me back ae I kept trying to push my way out. I couldn't breathe. I needed to breathe. I pushed sand away from me, trying to climb up - to feel the sun on my face, again - to breathe. I needed to breathe.

As my hands pushed sand away from me and my eyes closed to prevent it from getting inside them, my lungs were slowly giving in. And I fought. I fought and I fought and I fought, until...

Until there was nothing to fight.