0:03

The river runs foul with the stench of

0:05

death. It won't be long now. For

0:09

ten years I have fled, found each

0:11

and every rock to hide beneath, a

0:14

plethora of gutters soaked in the

0:16

outcast remains of civilization. No

0:18

city, nor village, nor town has

0:20

provided me with shelter. No

0:23

home or friend to offer me sanctuary.

0:26

I am untouchable, a rotten

0:28

reminder that knowledge can be the bane of

0:30

all who seek and thirst for it. Ten

0:33

years of nights have passed quickly since, and

0:36

the dust does not shake easily from my feet,

0:39

nor does the memory of what I uncovered

0:41

simply dislodge from my mind. This

0:44

recording will be my final testament, and

0:46

this piece of rock by the river Nile

0:48

my last resting place. Thank

0:51

God for that, for I cannot continue

0:53

in this wretched shell. To

0:55

those who are listening, heed my story.

0:58

Forget the relics of the past, for

1:00

they are surely cursed by things far

1:02

fowler than the modern mind can ever

1:05

comprehend. I must speak quickly,

1:07

for the sun is low in the sky,

1:09

and soon my pursuer will be upon me.

1:12

My name is Dr. Samuel Russell, and

1:15

if you're listening to this, let my tale

1:17

be a warning to the curious. When

1:20

all this started, I was an ambitious type. As

1:23

an archaeologist, I dreamt of the day that

1:25

I would make an earth-shattering discovery, one

1:27

which would lead to fame, a sentence

1:29

in the history books, perhaps even a paragraph

1:32

or a whole volume, a

1:34

name not to be forgotten at the very least. This

1:37

was my desire, my passion, to

1:40

find a fragment of mankind's past which would

1:42

rewrite a chapter of our story as a

1:44

civilization. By the age of 32,

1:46

I was convinced that I had found

1:48

just such a thing. The

1:51

public does not realize that many archaeological

1:53

breakthroughs have been decades after their initial

1:55

discovery. So many

1:57

digs, so many ruins uncovered. so

2:00

many bones unearthed. Too

2:02

many, in fact. More often

2:04

than not, these relics lie packed away

2:06

in crates and boxes in the bowels

2:09

of academic institutions and museums, waiting

2:11

to be categorized and understood by

2:13

future generations. In some

2:16

instances, this can take years and

2:18

in the case of my discovery, the dusty

2:20

old crate which held the tainted promise of

2:22

fame and fortune had been left to fester

2:24

for over a century in the dark. I

2:27

had been searching through the archives at the

2:30

Kellengrove Museum in Glasgow, Scotland. After

2:32

traveling there from New York to study the

2:34

South Oost Mummies, a colleague,

2:36

Dr. Greeley, was kind enough to allow

2:38

me access to the museum's basement area

2:41

where the vaults of crates, documents

2:43

and relics from digs over the past two

2:45

centuries waited to be discovered. It

2:48

was purely by accident that I stumbled across the

2:50

tablet. I was looking for

2:52

an old text on ancient burial practices

2:54

to aid my study when I noticed

2:57

a strange entry in an archive book.

2:59

It read, 1883, Pre-Dynastic

3:02

Stone Tablet, Origin

3:04

Unknown. How could I refuse

3:06

such a mystery? Surely

3:08

I could spare a few hours to investigate

3:10

such a curious description. As

3:12

I wandered between the crates and other

3:14

boxed relics looking for the item, my

3:17

excitement grew at the possibilities held within

3:19

that description. Origin Unknown.

3:22

How could its origin be uncertain? After

3:24

all, it was a relatively easy task

3:26

for an expert to identify such things,

3:29

the language or hieroglyphs used, where

3:31

the material was quarried from, etc.

3:34

After wandering around the labyrinth of

3:36

dimly lit containers, cases and bookshelves,

3:39

I finally found it. The wooden crate

3:41

had a number of old weathered traveling stamps

3:43

on its side, which read, Bethlehem,

3:46

Cairo, Boston, Vienna,

3:49

London, Glasgow. It

3:51

certainly had done the rounds, no doubt

3:53

being handed from expert to expert as they

3:56

scratched their heads trying to identify it. The

3:58

crate was nailed shut. But, as I

4:00

prepared to pry it open with a crowbar, it

4:03

was at that moment that I first noticed it, a

4:05

sensation which would grow with time,

4:08

becoming a constant, unwanted companion through

4:10

these past few years. I

4:12

can only describe it as the feeling of

4:14

someone walking over my grave. Dread

4:17

and foreboding, a coldness

4:19

running up my spine and the blood

4:21

draining from my face. It

4:24

was not unusual to feel uneasy in

4:26

such a quiet and isolated basement, but

4:29

there was something uncanny about the experience.

4:32

A momentary breathlessness, as if suffocated

4:34

by the earth, with a

4:36

taste of sand in my mouth. The

4:38

uncomfortable feeling passed, and my zeal for

4:40

a new discovery soon quelled such thoughts.

4:43

Plunging the sharpened end of the crowbar underneath

4:46

the crate's lid, and with some effort, it

4:48

finally gave way, offering up its

4:50

secrets to me. Wrapped in

4:52

cloth, the stone tablet lay there, cadaverous

4:55

and solemn. Its

4:57

appearance immediately surprised me. I

4:59

had encountered other Egyptian tablets before, but

5:02

this one was unique. Older,

5:04

cut in a peculiarly haphazard

5:06

fashion. Its great edges

5:09

cracked and crumbled like ash. It

5:11

was obvious why the archaeologists of 1883 had difficulty reading

5:13

it. The

5:16

face of the stone had been chiseled

5:18

at, vandalized by some implement. It

5:21

did indeed seem as though the tablet was

5:23

barely legible. Egyptian had

5:25

not wanted its message to be read. On

5:27

consulting with the museum's archivists, they could only

5:29

tell me that a letter sent with the

5:31

tablet was the last known mention of the

5:33

archaeologist who had discovered it. His

5:36

name was Dr. Fitzsimmons. Apparently,

5:38

a well-respected academic of his time.

5:41

Accounts were blurry, incomplete, but

5:43

it appeared as though Dr. Fitzsimmons had

5:46

discovered the tablet somewhere in the Saharan

5:48

Desert in Egypt, before falling gravely

5:50

ill with a sickness. In

5:52

his letter, a feverish, nonsensical

5:55

mess, he repeated the bizarre

5:57

phrase, a thing of ash, several times.

6:00

A description which for some reason made me

6:02

shudder. It was clear

6:04

that Dr. Fitzsimmons had been struck down by

6:06

a terrible illness shortly after his discovery. One

6:10

which had left him delirious, and his

6:12

disappearance was probably the result of his premature

6:14

death in a foreign country. With

6:17

a little persuasion, my friend at the museum was

6:19

able to procure the tablet for me so that

6:21

I could study it more closely. Indeed,

6:23

most of the museum's other academics

6:25

seemed relatively uninterested in an illegible

6:28

inscription from the past. For

6:30

them, the message was lost to eternity, but

6:33

it was not lost for me. It

6:35

fascinated me, occupying my every

6:37

thought, almost to the point of

6:39

obsession. I was continuously fixated

6:42

on the message which had been erased from

6:44

the tablet. What could

6:46

it have told us about the past, and why

6:48

was it deemed offensive enough to be deliberately removed?

6:51

Something which had clearly taken some time and effort.

6:54

From then on, my days were filled with studying the

6:57

tablet as best I could, and at

6:59

night I thought of nothing else. I

7:01

dreamt of the sands of the Sahara Desert, and

7:04

what secrets lay covered by the grains of

7:06

time. It was then that I

7:08

stumbled upon an idea. I knew

7:10

that several recent scanning methods had been

7:13

used to decipher messages, inscriptions, and

7:15

details from old texts and pottery. Words

7:18

and pictures which, to the naked eye,

7:20

seemed unreadable, and yet could

7:22

be enhanced through modern imaging techniques. I

7:25

wondered if a similar approach could be taken with the

7:27

tablet. Perhaps enough information still

7:29

remained within the stone, subtle

7:31

depreciations and marks which would reveal the

7:34

hidden message beneath. In

7:36

1883, archaeologists could not have conceived

7:38

of the investigative tools available to

7:40

their 21st century counterparts. It

7:43

was a long shot, but after a few

7:45

months, and a not inconsiderable amount of money,

7:48

I was able to glean new data from the tablet.

7:51

Thankfully, I had been working alone with

7:53

the equipment I had procured, and you'll

7:55

forgive me for not mentioning the methods

7:57

I used, or exact details I uncovered.

8:00

I simply cannot take the risk that some

8:02

other unfortunate soul will use this information to

8:04

seek out the truth and find themselves in

8:06

the same horrid predicament as I. What

8:09

I can tell you is that the inscription

8:11

spoke of a tomb which dated back to

8:13

before the founding of the great Egyptian dynasties.

8:16

I was enthused. There

8:18

was the very real possibility that the images

8:21

I stared upon were the oldest known examples

8:23

of Egyptian writing. Furthermore,

8:26

it was clear to me that they depicted

8:28

an event to which my knowledge had never

8:30

been seen in all of archeology, along

8:32

with a unique location, one

8:34

which I knew of almost immediately due

8:36

to the unique geographical features which exist

8:38

to this day. At

8:40

the foot of a mountain range in the

8:43

Egyptian part of the Saharan desert, the tomb

8:45

lay nearby, in line with the

8:47

rising and the falling of the sun, and

8:49

a constellation above. Whoever

8:51

had carved the tablet was reaching out from

8:54

the past and telling me where something important

8:56

could be found. As for

8:58

the depicted event, much of its

9:00

story remained too damaged to tell. It

9:03

seemed to depict a celebration of a

9:05

group of people visiting the tomb, their

9:07

arms raised praising the sun. And

9:10

yet one part of its broken facade bothered me.

9:13

A stone carving of a malformed,

9:15

withered figure standing amongst those who

9:18

had celebrated, now lying still and

9:20

dead. I was certain

9:22

that this was a metaphor for a plague of some

9:24

sort, which must have killed many

9:26

people to have been recorded in a tablet. Not

9:30

wanting to share my discovery with the wider

9:32

academic community quite yet, for I feared that

9:34

someone with more influence would seek to claim

9:36

whatever lay inside the tomb for themselves, I

9:39

returned the tablet to the museum and kept

9:41

the recorded images for myself, informing

9:44

those at the museum, even my friend,

9:46

that I had failed to uncover anything

9:48

of interest. Ego

9:50

was indeed my first sin, but

9:52

it most certainly would not be my last.

9:56

It was not long before I was headed for the

9:58

Egyptian desert, to the place where the tomb whom

10:00

lay, the source of all that has

10:02

befallen me since. Of course

10:04

finding it was difficult. Indeed

10:06

it took me over nine months of geophysical

10:09

surveys and failed digs, but by

10:11

God I found it eventually. At

10:14

the foot of the mountainside, covered in its

10:16

shadows, I quickly saw the proof I needed.

10:19

I had hired four Egyptian archaeology students,

10:21

keen to make a name for themselves, and

10:23

under the suggestion that after such discovery

10:25

they could work anywhere in the world,

10:27

they were more than happy to keep the

10:30

expedition a secret. We

10:32

did not officially have permission to dig there

10:34

in the first place, but I wagered that

10:36

the uncovering of an ancient part of Egyptian

10:38

history would outweigh any punishments, and

10:41

my name would already be heading for the history books

10:43

by then, which was all that mattered.

10:46

We soon found our first relic deep under the

10:48

sand and earth of the Sahara, but

10:50

it was not an ancient piece of stone

10:53

or pottery as expected, but rather a digging

10:55

tool. And no doubt

10:57

from the nineteenth century. As

10:59

we dug further, we found more. Shovels,

11:02

trowels, and then bags, old

11:04

supplies, all manner of provisions. While

11:07

the desert was quite capable of covering

11:09

anything in vast amounts of sand, as

11:11

we continued digging, that hoared sense

11:13

of dread which I had experienced the first

11:16

time I set eyes on the tablet, welled

11:18

up inside when I thought of what it

11:20

might mean. I suspected

11:22

that the area had been deliberately filled in

11:24

by someone, covering whatever label

11:26

below, both relics

11:28

from nineteenth-century archaeology and objects from

11:30

the dawn of history. There

11:33

was little doubt in my mind that

11:35

the belongings were from Dr. Fitzsimmons' excavation,

11:38

as we uncovered an old empty box with the date

11:40

1883 on it. It

11:43

seemed likely that he had found the tablet somewhere, and

11:45

like me, followed its directions to the

11:47

unknown tomb. But why had

11:49

he left his equipment to be reclaimed by the sand?

11:52

Worse still, why would he have

11:54

buried such a discovery? What

11:57

was there to fear beneath the desert surface? Unperturbed

12:00

by such ruminations, we continued.

12:03

For three days we dug deeper, and

12:05

at night, as the cold and dry

12:07

desert wind blew through our camp, I

12:10

slept little. There was a

12:12

palpable sense of urgency among the group, and

12:14

while the student archaeologists I had hired were

12:17

grateful to be given the opportunity, they

12:19

began to complain about the situation, accusing

12:22

one another of rummaging around their belongings.

12:25

One of the students, a man by the

12:27

name of Harking, even claimed to have been

12:29

awoken just as the figure of an intruder

12:31

left his tent, scampering off into the night.

12:34

As the most experienced member of the team, I

12:36

had to calm their nerves, and told them to

12:38

focus on the dig and the incredible discoveries which

12:40

we would be part of. This

12:43

seemed to only act as a catalyst to the

12:45

tensions, and by day four,

12:47

as we dug, each member remained

12:49

silent, eyeing one another suspiciously. The

12:52

silence was finally broken later in the day

12:54

by a celebratory yell from Harking. Looking

12:57

at the sand, each of us worked

12:59

furiously, digging, shifting buckets of golden grains

13:01

away from the focus of our efforts.

13:04

And there, finally, it

13:06

stood, the sealed stone entrance

13:08

to a tomb of unknown origin, a

13:11

completely new discovery in the realm of archaeology,

13:14

well, except for poor Fitzsimmons, but

13:17

I was sure that I would honor his memory in

13:19

any papers I published on the subject. It

13:22

quickly became apparent that the tomb had indeed

13:24

been previously opened, as several blocks

13:26

at its mouth lay discarded in front, square

13:29

holes wide enough to fit the

13:31

body of an archaeologist, a tomb

13:34

robber, or perhaps something from inside.

13:36

A peculiar thought, but nonetheless one which

13:38

gripped me for a moment before passing.

13:42

As the sun dimmed in the sky, I

13:44

packed my haversack with a voice recorder, dynamo

13:46

flashlight, and a camera to document

13:49

any immediate findings, and gave

13:51

orders that the others should set up

13:53

battery-powered lamps and remain outside within radio

13:55

contact, partly to make sure that

13:57

as little of the inside was disturbed as possible.

14:00

possible and partly because I wished

14:02

to be the first of our group to lay eyes

14:04

on what the tomb contained. I

14:06

did, however, allow Harking to follow me, as

14:09

he had been the one to first recognize that we had

14:11

found what we were looking for, and it

14:13

only felt right to include him. As

14:15

we slid through the open wounds in

14:18

the tomb's exterior, disappearing into its embrace,

14:20

I could feel the blood drain from my

14:22

face, sharply, and the dried taste of sand

14:25

return to my mouth. I

14:27

will not lie. This did make

14:29

me apprehensive, but I did not wish to

14:31

share those misgivings with the other archaeologists, as

14:34

they were already nervous of the dig. I

14:37

had feared that the tomb's ceiling could have given

14:39

in at some point to the countless eons of

14:41

sand and wind, and it appeared

14:43

that those concerns were justified. A

14:45

long stone corridor led off into the

14:47

darkness, with broken rubble and sand from

14:50

above obscuring most of the way. Thankfully,

14:53

one slab from the ceiling had landed

14:55

at an angle, holding back the unknown

14:57

tons of material on top. This

14:59

gave us a tight space through

15:02

which to continue towards whatever secrets

15:04

the tomb contained. As we crawled

15:06

along the small openings and across ancient

15:08

sands, which had festered for an age

15:10

within that silent place, we

15:12

whispered quietly and treaded carefully for fear

15:14

of causing a dangerous cave-in. Finally,

15:17

the passageway opened up into a

15:20

small room, and as my flashlight

15:22

illuminated the cold interior, at

15:24

first I was disappointed. The

15:26

tomb seemed to contain only one chamber, but

15:29

quickly this disappointment bled into

15:32

utter excitement. While the room

15:34

was in bad condition, an entire section

15:36

of the room having fallen with age,

15:38

allowing piles of sand and earth to

15:40

reclaim that world beneath, something

15:42

wondrous lay at the heart of the ruin. There,

15:46

entombed for thousands of years, was a

15:48

relic unlike any I had ever seen

15:50

before. Rising up

15:52

above me was a statue at least five thousand

15:54

years old. If not even

15:56

more ancient than that, I

15:58

rushed over utterly and thoroughly. After all, reaching

16:01

my hand out, I touched its cold

16:03

and jagged black surface without thinking. Two

16:06

aspects of its appearance were immediately

16:08

captivating. It was entirely made

16:10

from onyx, jet black volcanic

16:12

glass, and it was of a

16:14

style and form I had never seen or heard of

16:17

before. It was shaped

16:19

something like a man, with arms and

16:21

legs, but its appendages were misshapen, as

16:24

if twisted by a genetic malformation. One

16:28

arm was longer than the other, and its legs

16:30

gave way to a curved stoop, as

16:32

it contorted at the hips. Stranger

16:35

still, the statue was faceless. No

16:37

eyes, mouth, or nose to speak of,

16:39

and yet its head bowed down towards

16:41

me in a frozen pose. Its

16:44

surface crumbled and uneven. Yes,

16:46

there were no eyes, but in every way

16:49

it felt as though I was being looked

16:51

at. I took out

16:53

my voice recorder to document my thoughts, when

16:55

it occurred to me that in all of

16:57

my excitement I hadn't heard Harking's reaction to

17:00

the statue itself. Turning round

17:02

to face my colleague, I was greeted with

17:04

an emptiness I cannot describe, as

17:06

my heart thumped what felt like frozen blood

17:08

through my veins. Harking

17:11

screamed and stumbled backwards, falling to the

17:13

ground. Quickly he scrambled to

17:15

his feet and ran off into the tunnel back

17:17

towards the entrance. At first

17:19

I thought he was merely spooked by

17:21

the strange statue, but no, the

17:24

horrific truth was much worse than that. We

17:27

were not alone in that room, nor had

17:29

we ever been. Something

17:31

ancient had been watching. From

17:33

behind me I heard nothing but

17:35

the sound of sand, powdered rain

17:37

shifting, moving with purpose. Spinning

17:40

around, I caught only a glimpse of what

17:42

was there. Uncertain but

17:44

definite in its existence. Almost

17:47

human, a thing which lacks

17:49

substance. I'm not sure

17:51

how it appeared at first, for a terror

17:54

had taken me, but its face turned towards

17:56

me from the corner of the room, and

17:58

in that instant I recognized it. that

18:00

it bore a startling resemblance to the statue at

18:02

the center of the tomb. Char-cold,

18:04

misshapen limbs and all, looking,

18:07

yet not looking, seeing

18:09

with eyes which were not there. The

18:12

madness which then took me was all-encompassing.

18:15

No longer did I care about a cave-in

18:17

or fear of being buried alive. I

18:19

had to escape. I rushed from

18:21

the room into the precarious corridor and

18:23

scrambled over fallen blocks and through layers

18:25

of festering sand. And yet,

18:27

as I reached the entrance, I heard the thing

18:30

in the tomb, an utterance

18:32

of some unknown origin, a

18:34

language which I did not recognize or

18:36

comprehend. Yet some sounds

18:38

are universal, transcending all

18:41

epochs and cultures. And

18:43

in that moment, I was certain

18:45

that the indefinite figure in the darkness laughed.

18:48

By the time I neared the outside, I found

18:50

the rest of the group attempting to console harking

18:52

from his delirium. As I slid

18:55

back through the open into the now

18:57

nighttime desert landscape, the air seemed strange,

19:00

colder somehow, almost burning

19:02

my lungs with each breath. I

19:04

opened my mouth to speak, and as I did

19:06

so, one of the archaeologists looked up. His

19:09

reaction took me by surprise, for he

19:11

screamed in abject terror. All

19:14

four of my colleagues jumped frantically to their

19:16

feet and panicked as they scratched and clawed

19:18

their way out of the excavation hole. I

19:21

chased quickly after them, asking what was

19:23

wrong, but they only continued their escape.

19:26

I then found harking cowering in his tent,

19:28

and as I entered, he pleaded with me

19:30

to spare him. I spoke

19:32

nothing but calming words, but it seemed as

19:34

though recognizing my voice sent him into a

19:36

more pronounced madness. He screamed

19:38

with such despair that I stumbled backward

19:41

in shock, falling to the ground outside.

19:44

A searing pain suddenly etched across my face

19:46

as one, then two of my colleagues began

19:48

to attack me, kicking at my

19:50

face and hands as I lay helpless on the ground,

19:53

each kick showering me with the grit of the desert.

19:57

As blood poured from my nose and mouth,

19:59

I realized there... There and then that my team were

20:01

going to kill me. They were going to beat

20:03

me to death. That realization gave

20:05

me a life-saving surge of energy, and as

20:07

they continued their attacks, I was able to

20:09

crawl onto my knees, then to my feet,

20:11

before running away as fast as I could.

20:14

I fled our camp, confused, bloodied,

20:17

and afraid. The desert

20:19

did not want me. My insides

20:21

were frozen, and while I had no water,

20:23

no provisions to speak of other than the

20:25

haversack I took into the tomb with me.

20:28

I welcomed the unrelenting Saharan sun,

20:31

as it finally rose above the sand

20:33

dunes, baking the landscape below. Yet

20:36

I felt no warmth, no comfort. I

20:39

felt only ice, as if my

20:41

insides had been steeped in snow. The

20:44

pain spread to my bones, and while I

20:46

could bear the sensation, before long, I could

20:48

think of little else. Utterly

20:50

lost, I knew that whether I could feel the

20:52

heat or not, it would soon kill me. Although

20:55

I had to search for our camp, hoping to

20:58

reason with my team, who it

21:00

seemed had been devoured by some form of

21:02

hysteria, or if they could not

21:04

be reasoned with, perhaps I could at least have

21:06

taken some provisions. Just

21:08

what had happened to them? But

21:10

to no avail. I was lost,

21:13

and the first, utter thirst which

21:15

could not be quenched, had grown so strong

21:17

that my mouth felt like sand, removed

21:20

of any moisture. A

21:22

torturous feeling which continued unabated and

21:24

unrelenting, as if springing forth from

21:26

some infinite source of horror. I

21:29

staggered through the desert, shivering to

21:31

the bone, yet suffering from the

21:33

fatal symptoms of severe dehydration. While

21:36

the sun shone bright and unforgiving in

21:39

the sky, I continued on, with each

21:41

and every icy breath, looking for hope,

21:44

some way to survive my cursed situation.

21:47

But I knew that the thirst would soon kill me, and

21:49

before that, the searing pain and

21:51

confusion of sunstroke would arrive. I've

21:55

never considered myself a particularly lucky

21:57

person, but it was at that

21:59

moment that luck per- perhaps tried to shine on

22:01

me. For as I descended

22:03

a steep sand dune, I saw before me

22:05

a long, thin crack in the desert floor,

22:07

a ravine of some

22:09

sort, and thirty or forty meters

22:11

below, a small subterranean pool of

22:14

clear water, sat like an oasis

22:16

in shadow. In

22:18

my weakened state, I knew that I risked

22:20

falling to my death, but I had to

22:22

try to descend, or otherwise the thirst would

22:24

kill me. With each movement of

22:26

my leg and tight grip of my hands,

22:28

I squeezed down through the slit of rocks

22:31

towards the water below. But

22:33

despite my calculation, a shard

22:35

of stone which I grasped onto gave way,

22:37

and I fell to what should have been

22:39

my death. All I

22:41

remember is clipping my elbow and dragging

22:43

my face off the opposing rock wall

22:45

before smashing abruptly against the stone floor.

22:48

I do not know how long I was

22:50

unconscious, but the sun was no longer high

22:53

in the sky, and night was approaching. The

22:56

thirst continued, as did the

22:58

coldness within, and my throat felt

23:00

as dry as the sand which surrounded everything.

23:03

Nearby I could see the pool which could save me,

23:06

and eventually managed to get to my feet

23:08

in anticipation of a soothing gulp of clear

23:10

water. But no sooner did I

23:13

step towards the pool that I saw the liquid

23:15

begin to change, turning from its

23:17

healthy transparency to a blackened ooze.

23:20

By the time I stood over it, nothing

23:22

faced me other than an oily sludge, foul-smelling

23:25

and curdled. I

23:27

could not understand such a hideous transformation.

23:30

Collapsing once more to the ground, I

23:32

admitted defeat, and the thirst

23:35

which so painfully engulfed me persuaded me that

23:37

death would be a sweet release. There

23:40

I lay, waiting for my demise, and yet

23:42

I did not die. I only

23:45

festered. Hours turned to days,

23:47

and my torture continued without mercy with

23:49

no end in sight. Then,

23:52

on the third night, as I lay

23:54

beside the poison water, I

23:56

heard the footsteps of someone nearby. I looked

23:59

up, and in the moonlight I could see

24:01

out the crevice to the world outside, the

24:04

stars shining bright in the night sky. My

24:07

heart began to falter as I saw the shape

24:09

of someone peering down at me from above. With

24:12

all the energy I could muster, I yelled

24:14

upward for help, hoping beyond hope that whoever

24:16

was staring down at me could get me

24:18

out and back to civilization. But

24:21

there was no answer. Instead, the

24:23

shape just glared at me. And

24:26

then, without making a sound, slowly started

24:28

climbing down towards me. There

24:31

I lay, and as I watched the figure

24:33

scramble across and down the rock face, I

24:35

began to dread its every movement. How

24:38

I wished I had remained silent and

24:40

allowed the nighttime passerby to have moved

24:42

beyond the ravine and continue on its

24:44

journey. But no, I

24:46

had yelled. Playing dead was useless to

24:48

me. The figure's back arched

24:51

and convulsed in the moonlight, and as

24:53

it drew closer to the bottom of

24:55

the pit, I could see that its

24:57

arms were different lengths and its movements

24:59

malformed. Almost human. Almost,

25:02

but not quite. Finally, it

25:04

reached the foot of its descent and then

25:06

moved quickly towards me, on two

25:08

legs cumbersomely at first, then

25:10

on all fours. Faster, quicker,

25:12

its shoulder blades contorting and

25:14

skewing with every movement. I

25:17

let out a scream, not for help, for

25:19

no one could save me from whatever evil I

25:21

had disturbed in that tomb. Rather,

25:23

my cry was of dread, gripping

25:26

and complete. As

25:28

it approached, I could feel the coldness within

25:30

me growing, an icy chill deep

25:32

within my bones, painful at

25:35

first and then agony. Just

25:37

a few meters away, the thing from the

25:39

tomb rose back up to its feet and

25:41

for some reason of everything which disturbed me.

25:44

One aspect of its being provoked the most

25:47

terror. For all its

25:49

movements, its climbing of the rock

25:51

face, its crawling in stooped advances,

25:53

there was no hint of breath from its form. And

25:56

without breath, surely there can be no

25:58

life. A shard of moonlight caught

26:01

the side of its head. Charcoal,

26:03

crumbled. No features. A

26:06

darkness of the earth. Something

26:08

older and more putrid than even the heart

26:11

of mankind. Something of

26:13

ash, as Dr. Fitzsimmons had put

26:15

in his letter. A

26:17

warning which could not protect me in that

26:19

cavernous gorge of the Saharan Desert, but now

26:21

I wished I had listened to it. Reaching

26:24

out its powdered fingers, the creature placed its

26:26

hand on my chest. Ice

26:28

ran through my heart, searing through my body.

26:31

I convulsed, and with one last ounce of

26:33

strength, I instinctively turned to my side and

26:36

fell into the rotten pool of liquid which

26:38

had once been watered. I

26:40

sank deep into the unknown. The

26:43

thick soup of viscous, rancid sludge pulled

26:45

me down into the abyss. I

26:47

flailed. I kicked my legs and threw my arms

26:49

as hard as I could, vainly

26:52

attempting to swim. Yet, each

26:54

panicked movement only pulled me deeper into the

26:56

dark. The sludge touched

26:58

and stuck to my open eyes, covering

27:00

my vision in an absence of light.

27:03

I held my breath and continued to

27:05

fight against my descent into the filthy

27:07

tar-like substance, but it was too much.

27:10

I could hold on no longer. Finally,

27:13

I involuntarily took a deep breath

27:15

inward. The thick goo oozed

27:17

down my throat, filling my lungs and choking

27:19

me. My eyes felt bulging, and

27:21

the accompanying pain in my chest made me feel

27:24

as though I was being crushed from the inside.

27:27

As the pain continued, I gave up, exhausted.

27:31

I stopped fighting and waited for death. Indeed,

27:34

I welcomed it by then. And

27:37

yet, I did not die. I

27:39

did not drown. I merely stayed,

27:42

remained in this world, and lingered at the

27:44

bottom of that pit of rotten liquid. For

27:47

the next few hours, I experienced an agony

27:49

which words could not fully convey. I

27:52

was drowning, continuously drowning, but I

27:54

would not die. If

27:56

I could have killed myself, I would have. Such

27:59

was the anger. I experienced, but

28:01

I soon realized that, for whatever reason, the

28:04

world would not let me go. To

28:06

escape the pain, I moved around from side

28:08

to side and eventually found the wall of

28:11

the pool with my hand. Fighting

28:13

against the weight of the thickening liquid on top

28:15

of me, I pulled myself up inch by inch,

28:18

all along with no breath. Perpetual

28:21

suffocation. Even in

28:23

the throes of such pain, I knew that

28:25

I was merely climbing towards my death and

28:27

that ashen figure above. But

28:30

any alternative to drowning, but not dying,

28:32

was a far more desirable situation to

28:34

the one I currently faced. Finally,

28:37

after many hours, I felt the air with

28:39

my hand, and with one draining effort, I

28:41

pulled myself out and onto the floor of

28:44

the ravine. The black liquid

28:46

stained my lungs at first, but as

28:48

I retched, coughed, and vomited, the rancid

28:50

gunk was slowly expelled from my mouth.

28:53

Trapping the sludge from my eyes, I looked around

28:55

and was surprised to see that I was alone,

28:58

the sun beaming down through the slits above.

29:01

I assumed that the thing from the tomb

29:03

had believed me dead and let me be,

29:05

hopefully forever. The

29:08

thirst was still resolute, and all I

29:10

could think of was finding another place,

29:12

another source of cool, clear water to

29:14

quench the urge and remove the barren,

29:17

arid sensation from my mouth and throat,

29:19

which had quickly returned. There

29:22

in that stone prison, I knew I had

29:24

to escape and find water, or

29:27

perhaps even find my team, who

29:29

I hoped had survived the madness which seemed to have

29:31

taken them. It was clear to

29:33

me that we all had been affected by

29:35

our discovery, and that while it seemed outlandish

29:37

there was only one word to describe my

29:39

situation. Cursed. Though

29:42

it took a monumental effort, nearly falling to

29:44

my death several times, I managed to climb

29:46

up to the rock face, taking

29:48

a similar route as the creature from the

29:50

tomb had but in reverse and

29:53

found my freedom. The

29:55

sun beat down upon me, and yet the

29:57

icy chill in my bones remained. At

30:00

the time, I hypothesized that it was

30:02

a disease, an illness or poison

30:04

of some form, contained within

30:06

the tomb, which perhaps invoked

30:08

severe hallucinations. For

30:10

weeks I searched the Saharan desert, looked

30:13

for a sign of civilization, hoping above

30:15

all else to find water, to

30:17

quench my horrendous thirst, and a fire

30:19

to take away the perpetual coldness. On

30:22

two separate occasions, I did locate a small

30:25

pool of liquid, but as I

30:27

approached, both turned to the same

30:29

blackened, hoared sludge as before, an

30:31

undrinkable, festering ooze, and

30:33

yet, again, no matter how dehydrated,

30:36

I did not die. While

30:38

I experienced all of the agonizing realities

30:40

of first, the world would not relinquish

30:42

its grip on me. And

30:45

then there were the nights. While

30:47

others would prepare me for a comfortable sleep after

30:49

the sun had set, each time

30:51

that swollen globe of light dipped beneath

30:53

the horizon, I knew it would not

30:55

be long before the thing from the tomb, that

30:58

something of ash would find me. Relentless

31:02

climbing along the sand dunes, no matter where I

31:04

was in the desert, it would appear with the

31:06

dark. Chasing, stooped,

31:08

and malformed, lifeless, and

31:11

yet, of intent. Its

31:14

charcoal appearance, crumbled and powdered, sought nothing

31:16

else but to reach me. For

31:19

what purpose I did not know, but I

31:21

was certain that its reasons were steeped in

31:23

an ancient and inhuman mind. All

31:26

I could do was run, and so

31:28

it was that I found myself a fugitive of

31:30

my previous life, running from an

31:32

ancient horror after sunset, and getting

31:34

any rest I could during the day. Finally,

31:37

one night, as a small sandstorm cast

31:39

its grains across the landscape, and I

31:41

moved quickly through the desert to ensure

31:43

the ashen figure did not catch me,

31:46

I did indeed find civilization. A

31:49

small Egyptian town, its

31:51

name meaningless to me, but at the sight

31:53

of it, I cried. Sure

31:55

that it and its people would prove my salvation.

32:00

still had light beaming through their windows, and,

32:02

unable to contain my joy at the possibility

32:05

of seeing another human being, I walked

32:07

into the nearest open doorway I could find,

32:09

yelling for help. The

32:11

first person to see me was a young man

32:13

in his teens, who screamed both in fear and

32:15

rage at the sight of me. Quickly,

32:17

others from the town appeared, and their

32:20

reaction was violent and brutal. I

32:22

was hit across the back of the head with a

32:24

stone, and then I staggered through the town's streets, unable

32:27

to comprehend why they hated me so. A

32:30

mob soon formed, and it became clear that

32:32

my life was in danger, as it had

32:35

been before with the archaeology team. The

32:37

same madness, the same terror, the

32:39

same violent anger. They chased

32:42

me, throwing rocks and beating me with

32:44

sticks and other accursed objects. Luckily,

32:46

I was able to make it to

32:49

the town's outskirts, weaving and dashing along

32:51

lanes and through small gaps between houses.

32:53

Soon, the sandstorm obscured me, and

32:56

the townspeople did not follow, cheering

32:58

that I had been driven out. I

33:01

rested for a moment, unsure if the taste

33:03

of grit in my mouth was due to

33:05

the storm or my constant agonizing thirst. I

33:08

sat in the shelter of a dune, utterly

33:10

heartbroken, and as the wind howled,

33:12

bringing forth the sands, I looked out

33:14

to the night and saw the malformed

33:17

figure of my ashen pursuer wandering through

33:19

the elements toward me. Each

33:21

night I would walk, and each time

33:24

I stopped to rest or a ceased

33:26

movement in the hope that the thing

33:28

of ash would not follow, it soon

33:30

appeared out of the night, clamoring, shifting,

33:32

decrepit, and yet unstoppable, roaming over

33:35

the sand dunes in search of its prey. With

33:37

no town or village willing to take me, for

33:40

there had been many, and nothing in front of

33:42

me but an endless escape, I

33:44

knew the only recourse left me. I

33:46

had to return to the tomb. Perhaps

33:49

there I would find an answer. A

33:51

hint as to why this had occurred, reaching

33:53

out from the darkness of time and

33:56

therein a solution. Something

33:58

to end my suffering. For

34:00

years I walked through the nightly sands of

34:02

the Sahara in search of the place where

34:04

it all began. But I

34:06

had no means to chart my progress, no

34:09

compass or map to follow. And

34:11

yet, finally, one day, I saw

34:14

the mountain range on the horizon. I

34:16

headed straight forward, and before long, I

34:19

stumbled into our abandoned camp, which

34:21

at one time had promised so much. A

34:24

career-defining archaeological find, a

34:26

name in the history books at least, to

34:29

have achieved something worthy of being remembered.

34:32

One of the tents still stood, having

34:34

weathered the Saharan climate remarkably well, but

34:37

the others had been lost to the sands. It

34:40

was clear that none of the archaeologists in my team

34:42

had returned to the site. Had

34:44

they not thought to search for me? Was

34:46

Dr. Samuel Russell such an unknown that

34:48

he could simply disappear without anyone ever

34:50

caring for him? Or wondering

34:53

where he had gone? The

34:55

sentiment made me angry, furious at

34:57

the way I had been treated, and enraged at

34:59

the world for producing such an evil thing, which

35:02

surely was not far behind. In

35:04

a rage, I pulled at the tent's canvas,

35:07

tearing it from its pegs, only to see

35:09

my belongings sitting there underneath. Soon

35:12

to be covered by the sand. My

35:14

things, forgotten and obscured, just as

35:16

Fitzsimmons had been. In

35:19

my search for fame, I was to be forgotten.

35:22

I climbed down towards the tomb entrance, still

35:24

ardent that I would have some answers, and

35:26

scooped enough deposited sand away, allowing me

35:28

to slip inside. Removing

35:31

the old dynamo flashlight from my now-worn

35:33

haversack, I was delighted that it

35:35

still worked, and so I moved

35:37

through the familiar passageway, cluttered with rubble,

35:39

and squeezed my way into the tomb,

35:42

that place which haunted my dreams. The

35:45

room sat as it had before, silent

35:47

and grave. The statue

35:49

which remained in the center sent shivers

35:51

up my spine, looking every bit as

35:54

terrifying as the ashen monstrosity which had

35:56

pursued me for years across the desert.

35:59

And yet, I had to be forgotten. had to be brave. I

36:01

had to know why this had happened to me. I

36:04

had to have answers. It was then

36:06

that I noticed something at the feet of the statue.

36:09

A block of granite under the sand which

36:11

the foul thing stood upon, warped

36:13

limbs and all. I

36:15

began digging wildly with my hands

36:17

and recognized the inscription immediately. It

36:20

was the same as the tablet which had

36:22

led me here, only in this case the

36:24

scene was complete, unlike the damaged version sitting

36:27

in the basement of the museum. How

36:29

I wished I had left it there,

36:31

undisturbed. How I wished I could go

36:34

home. The stone carvings showed

36:36

the people praising the sun outside of the tomb,

36:39

and I saw the thing of ash in the end

36:41

reveling in their deaths. But this

36:43

tablet had not been worn by the sands of time,

36:46

not broken by the chisel of the archeologists who

36:48

had found it. No, this

36:50

tablet told the entire story. It

36:53

appeared that the statue had been dug out of a

36:55

cave in the mountains nearby. This

36:57

would suggest it to be much more

36:59

ancient than even the Egyptian civilization itself.

37:02

Of unknown origin indeed.

37:04

The statue was taken to a town

37:07

or city, while strange creatures seemed to emanate

37:09

from it at night. After

37:11

much death, the statue was placed in a tomb

37:13

at the foot of the mountains, where it had

37:15

been found. Those praising

37:17

the sun were brought there to die. Sacrifices

37:20

which perhaps would sate the relic.

37:23

That place wasn't a tomb at all. It

37:25

was a home, a shrine for

37:27

something wretched and evil. And

37:30

the ancient people of Egypt hoped to keep

37:32

it there by offering themselves to it. And

37:34

I, someone who had escaped its

37:36

clutches, was cursed to walk the earth

37:38

indefinitely. No water to sustain

37:40

me, and feeling only the chill of death

37:42

until that thing would find me and end

37:45

it all. Then I heard

37:47

a sound. Shuffling. Clawing.

37:50

Crawling. The creature

37:52

had returned home, and I was in

37:54

its lair. As its powdered

37:56

body skewed and hobbled into the room, it

37:58

stared at me without eyes. eyes or a mouth.

38:01

Without humanity, far older

38:03

than legend and myth, something

38:05

foul of the earth, it

38:07

kicked through the sands as it came

38:09

towards me, dislodging what lay underneath, revealing

38:12

something more terrifying than any creeping evil

38:14

in the night. I

38:16

knew then why I was always cold, for

38:19

it was the iciness of that horrid place which

38:21

I felt, and I knew

38:23

from that moment onward why I always

38:25

tasted sand, my mouth dry as

38:28

the desert outside. Never my

38:30

body had never left the tomb. Eyes

38:33

wide, mouth filled with sand, cold

38:35

to the touch, the rotting

38:37

corpse of Dr. Samuel Russell lay stricken

38:39

on the tomb floor. I

38:41

screamed at the sight of my own dead

38:43

body, and yet rushing past the statue, somehow

38:45

made it to the passageway and back out

38:48

into the desert, a place I

38:50

would never escape from. Ten

38:53

years have now passed since I first entered that

38:56

cursed place. I have been

38:58

unable to be near another soul without terror

39:00

being their response, nor have I

39:02

had one sip of water, not one

39:04

cool life-giving drink, for when

39:06

I am near, all that gives

39:08

life is soon corrupted into a black,

39:11

festering sludge, and the coldness,

39:13

an ever-present show from the tomb in

39:16

which it lies remains potent. My

39:18

dry mouth was sand, as it is filled

39:20

in its resting place, as

39:23

it always shall be. How many

39:25

towns have I entered at night? How

39:27

many times have I been chased and beaten by

39:29

those no doubt fearing for their lives? How

39:32

many people have I terrified with my

39:34

crumbling, ashen appearance? That

39:36

of a walking abomination, a

39:38

man not allowed to die, that is,

39:41

until that ancient evil is done with me. Sometimes

39:44

I question if I am even Samuel Russell

39:47

anymore. I have rested

39:49

during the day in the sands of the

39:51

Sahara, the sun beating down, yet

39:53

my bones as cold as a frozen winter.

39:56

Each night that ashen figure from the tomb

39:58

comes for me and Somehow I have been

40:00

able to continue on, to keep

40:03

moving, to stay alive, if you can call

40:05

it that. I do not claim

40:07

to understand it. How can my

40:09

body be lying dead in that ancient place

40:11

and yet here I am, walking the earth.

40:14

I suspect that whatever purpose the statue has

40:16

was not completed when I fled. Was

40:19

I to become one of those things? Cursing

40:21

those who happen to enter my home. To

40:23

hound and hunt those who leave. As

40:26

I too have been hunted. I

40:28

do not know what remains for me, but I

40:31

refuse to be like that thing out there in the

40:33

desert. I refuse to be taken

40:35

by it, to be made its slave or

40:37

worse. At night, when

40:39

I see it nearby, I often

40:41

wonder, is that all that's left

40:43

of Dr. Fitzsimmons? Chasing me,

40:46

his successor. All

40:48

conjecture, but that is all I am left with.

40:51

And now here I sit. I've

40:53

made it to the river Nile and as

40:55

it passes me, the waters turn rancid and

40:57

thick. A black flowing mass

40:59

of corruption. The sun has

41:01

now set. My story has been

41:03

told, but I will try to record as long

41:06

as I can. One way

41:08

or the other, this ends now. There

41:10

it is. I can see it

41:12

now, in the darkness, shambling nearby. I

41:15

will sit by this river, on this rock. I

41:18

will sit and wait for my moment. For

41:20

in all the years, only when I fell into

41:23

that pool of floods did the creature refuse to

41:25

follow. Perhaps if it

41:27

can be killed, I can be freed from this

41:29

torment. A decade of

41:31

burst and ice has worn away at my soul.

41:34

A decade of terror from the bleakness of

41:36

lost history has chipped away at my humanity

41:38

and I refuse to give up any more

41:40

of it. Whatever

41:42

curses lie beneath the Egyptian sands,

41:44

I often wonder. And

41:46

I know you wonder too. If

41:49

you're listening, heed my warning and leave

41:51

whatever foulness haunts the tombs of old.

41:54

Give them to the desert and to the

41:56

sands of obscurity. This

41:58

is the last statement of Dr. Dr. Samuel Russell.

42:01

And here comes the thing of ash, clawing

42:04

up the rock toward me. I'm

42:06

not afraid. My suffering has extinguished

42:08

my fear. If no one

42:10

ever hears from me again, know this. I

42:13

did something worth being remembered, worth

42:15

being written about and recorded for all time.

42:19

I pulled that ash and monstrosity into the

42:21

river, and we both

42:23

now sleep in each steps.