Happy is he who...writes from the love of imparting certain thoughts and not from the necessity of sale-who writes always to the unknown friend.

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)





Saturday, September 29, 2012

Entry # 11


Soul Mates
by Jaleta Clegg


Silence reigned in Teremun’s tomb, as it had for a thousand long, dry years, since the last mummy had been deposited and the crypt door sealed. Sand filtered into the hot darkness, trickling over the sarcophagus in amber waves that piled on the stone blocks of the floor.

Munahmunah the rat longed to flick his ears clear of the sand, but the mummification spell held tight. He lay on the carved face of Teremun, one haunch resting on the Ankh of Termuthis. Munahmunah wished to die completely. The Ankh prevented his spirit from leaving his desiccated body. He would have sighed in frustration, had he breath.

Sand was the least of his irritations. Maibe, the virgin sacrifice, faced Naeem, the undead defender, across the chamber, two mummies locked in eternal longing, unable to touch, to consummate the desire born and nurtured in silent death. Munahmunah lay between them, their raging lust pounding in his bones.

The entrance block slid, grating on layers of dry sand. A thief slipped through the gap, a burning torch clutched in one fist.

The Ankh of Termuthis flared into heated life, the spells of protection invoked by the intruder lending movement to dry muscle and bone. Munahmunah the rat squealed, leaping away from the angry glow of the Ankh. The hair on his rump burst into flames. He launched himself in angry attack at the face of the thief. The man screamed, clawing the dead rat free as he fled the tomb.

The magic of Termuthis surged through the burial chamber. Munahmunah chattered his rage at the unjustness of death and accidental mummification.

Maibe shifted, her tightly wound form lurching from the wall. One hand tore free of her wrappings to beckon Naeem forward, seduction in the tilt of her head.

Naeem, a bundle of ancient rags, inched towards the object of his desire through the sand drifts. His wrappings writhed as he worked muscles desiccated and decayed by desert heat.

Maibe hopped once, twice, gaining ground toward the object of her thousand-year desire.

Munahmunah showed his teeth, disgust wrinkling his lip. The dead flesh cracked, flaking away to leave his jawbone bare.

The newly animated lovers ignored the smoldering rat in the doorway. The Ankh glowed, shedding a greenish light in the tomb. Power throbbed, giving temporary life to the dead. Naeem’s wrappings caught on the corner of Teremun’s sarcophagus. He sprawled in the sand, tripped by trappings of his death.

“Ah.” A faint breath of sound from Maibe as the defender sprawled, one abnormally short leg breaking free to roll across the sandy floor. Maibe's linen parted as she strained arms against ancient bindings. Her beckoning finger crumbled to dust.

Naeem rolled to his back. Maibe toppled, body pressed to his. A thousand years of watching, sensing his spirit, she would not waste this moment. Virgin in life, she would not remain so in death. Breathing a prayer of thanks to Termuthis for her Gift, Maibe tore at Naeem’s linen wrappings with mummified hands.

Naeem arched his back, responding to her urging. His arms came free. She paused only a moment to note the shortness of his arms. Physical deformities did not matter, not to one who loved his spirit from afar. Until now.

His claws tore the linen strips prisoning her dead flesh. She shivered with delight as his skin touched hers. He pulled her closer, limbs wrapping her torso. Maibe ripped at the face coverings. She must look on her beloved, kiss his lips, feel their passion burning bright.

He grunted beneath her. She writhed, wishing only for a moment that she still lived in truth. She pulled the last of his facial wrappings free.

Naeem’s long snout opened, fanged jaws crushing her skull. Both mummies crumbled as green magic exploded from Maibe's decapitated body.

The Ankh’s light faded, taking life with it.

Freed of their mummified servitude, the spirits of Maibe and Naeem rose from the tangled bodies on the sandy floor.

“A crocodile?” Maibe’s spirit voice echoed through the chamber.

Naeem snapped his spirit jaws in a reptilian smile.

“Virgin in life, virgin in death. Horus the Vulture-headed better have a good reward waiting.” Maibe’s voice faded as her spirit rose from the tomb.

Munahmunah gnashed his teeth as Termuthis gathered him to her Ankh. At least his eternity of sitting between unrequited lust and hunger was at an end. He had suffered for his inadvertent intrusion into Teremun’s eternal rest. But now, peace filled his soul as his body crumbled to dust.

Silence reigned in the tomb of Teremun, as it had for most of the last thousand years.

1 comment:

  1. This one has my vote. It's very clever. It reminds me of Lord Dunsany.

    ReplyDelete