Of Sand and Souls

As I ventured into the Valley of the Kings I recalled the story of the Pharaohs Curse. People who plundered the tombs would die from a shaving cut. Thieves would have their material lives ripped away from them much like they ripped away the material lives of the kings. I walked with caution, believing it possible to somehow upset the tomb, for a pebble to fall in my shoe, arriving home to shave, the blood to never cease till I’m blue and breathless.

Passing the vendors selling statuettes of Anubis and Ra, it was as though I was sinking into Duat. The Underworld in Egyptian mythology where souls went to be judged, Ra acquiescently waiting on his boat for his passenger, whilst the eyes of Anubis judged debating if I was worthy to go into the realm of the dead.

I walked over ramps, and through scurrying tourists to finally reach the majestic Valley. A sand storm abruptly began and I was forced to shelter my face from the brilliant winds that picked up the ground with ease and threw the earth into my eyes. Squinting them open I found I was inches away from Tutankhamun’s resting place, a boy who’s burial mask would be the face of Ancient Egypt after his tomb was found perfectly intact.

Purchasing my ticket I stepped inside the grave of the fallen King, Tuthmosis III. The roof was blue with white stars, the colours so vibrant they could have easily been painted the morning I arrived. I wished my hand to reach out and touch the inscriptions on the wall, a large part of the Book of Amduat, a detailed description on how to reach the afterlife. For the King, it was his map to his new kingdom, but to those that can’t believe, it was just his last bedtime story.

Almost as if the moonlight roof had predicted the time midnight was falling on me. Stepping inside the stationary car that awaited me I looked outward at the lonely Valley, abandoned of its population and possessions but remaining an allure that recited history with every wall. My heart quickly stopped, as when I pushed my foot to the floor, I felt a pebble that was not there when I arrived. I threw the pebble out on an open window, never to shave my beard again.