Without warning, everything becomes still.
“Good grief, it’s dark.” The voice echoes off the walls and through the silent, near empty, surroundings.
There is a moment of quiet before a gruff voice sends back a response. “Yeah, might as well just camp out here
for a little bit. Won’t take long for them to turn the lights on.” Ray pulls out a cigarette lighter and lights up a smoke.
“See, we’ve got some light anyways. Would you look at that.” He holds the tiny flame up to the wall. “Rock, rock
and… more rock. Still in the tunnel.”
There is a mild sound of hacking, and then a loud cough. “Excuse me, would you mind not smoking?” says the
other person in the vicinity. “We are after all, in a tunnel, and there undoubtedly a limited supply of fresh air.”
“There’s plenty of air.” Ray sits down and leans back against the wall. “There’s a bajillion exits and entrances to
this thing. Air coming in and out all the time. Besides, a little tobacca smoke never hurt anyone, anyhow.” He
chuckles to himself and exhales. The smoky glow of a face appears faintly in his vision and before he can react a
hand has plucked the cigarette from his lips. He hears the scuffle of a boot scratching out the butt on the dirt floor.
“Now look what you’ve done, ya went and doused all the light.”
“Lighter please,” instructs the stranger.
“Whadd’ya want my lighter for?”
“Well I am certainly not planning on just waiting around in here forever, especially now that I can’t even breathe.”
“Listen lady, what did I tell you, the lights will be on in less than ten minutes. Just got to wait it out is all. You jes’ sit
down and relax. Here, have a smoke.” The small white cylinder is barely visible in the smoky darkness and
nobody reaches out to take it. Ray shoves the cigarette back into his newly opened pack of Camels.
“Seeing as you’re just planning on sitting here until the lights come on, whenever that may be, it seems perfectly
reasonable for me to take the cigarette lighter so I can find my way out. And at least that way you won’t be able to
asphyxiate the rest of the visitors.” Merve Jenkins taps her foot and waits for a response. It is just her luck to get
trapped in a pitch-black tomb with only an insolent redneck for her sidekick.
“What’s the matter,” the redneck says. “Afraid you’ll get stuck in here with King Tut?” He gives another coarse
chuckle. Merve is not amused. A lady of her age shouldn’t have to be bothered by such riffraff. A lady of her age
shouldn’t be faced with the task of wandering blindly around a faux-Egyptian tunnel, hoping to happen upon a way
out. She will most certainly be filing a complaint. If the redneck doesn’t suffocate her to death first. Or worse. One
never can tell what kind of people might be found inside an imitation pyramid and things were certainly not looking
bright for Merve so far. Shouldn’t there be emergency backup lights in such an exhibit? Is that not a reasonable
idea for an enclosed, dark thing?
Merve turns and starts down the dark tunnel empty handed. She treads slowly, and runs one hand along the right
wall in case she should encounter a sign or an exit. The complete darkness makes the eerie quiet even more
discomforting. She hears the sudden hiss of a cobra at her feet, and then another. Merve stops short, foolishly
frightened by the life-like sound effects.
“Boo,” a voice half whispers in her right ear. Merve whirls around to see the redneck standing there, a casual
smile on his face.
“Scared ya, did I?” he says. Merve sends a stony glare, penetrating through the darkness, in his direction.
“Didn’t want you to get lost,” the redneck explains. “ And I reckon I know this place better’n you.”
“You do, do you?” responds Merve. This may be her first time visiting the “Tomb” but certainly she would have
superior knowledge to this character with the rotting teeth and the tobacco addiction.
“Well I’ve been here several times, see,” the redneck says. Several times, thinks Merve; the exhibit’s only been
open for a month.
“You might even call me a bit of a regular,” he adds. Merve doesn’t want to know how regular. Perhaps the
redneck is a homeless man and lives in the tomb.
“Fact is, I could probably find my way out of here without the lights.”
“Is that so,” says Merve. She isn’t thrilled about taking help from the man, even if he could find the way out. “I think I’
ll be alright on my own,” she says. “No need to trouble yourself. You jes’ sit and wait for the lights to come on.”
Merve starts off again down the tunnel. The soft pad of footsteps signals that the redneck is still following her.
Merve stops again intending to reprimand the fellow when there is a loud creaking noise from above. She
freezes, craning her head towards the top of the tunnel.
“What was that?”
“Just the ceiling most likely,” says the redneck.
“What do you mean, just the ceiling,” asks Merve shortly.
“The ceiling moves, see. It’s part of the activity of the tomb, which they run sometimes for the school kids. They
have to find the lost treasure or the mummy in the allotted time before the ceiling comes down. Makes it more
exhilarating, like the actual excavation of a pyramid that way.”
“I’m not in that activity,” Merve protests wildly. “What do they do, just squish the children?”
“Reckon it’s probably just a malfunction,” says Ray calmly.
“A malfunction! Do you mean to say that the ceiling is simply going to collapse on our heads?”
Ray strokes his bearded chin. “I wouldn’t say so, it only ever goes down to about five feet.”
Merve shudders. “Fine. If you know how to get out, lead the way,” she concedes. The redneck steps forward. “My
pleasure,” he says.
Ray pulls out his cigarette lighter and holds it up to the wall, illuminating a set of pale blue hieroglyphs. He runs the
small spark of light along the strand of pictures. “We’re approaching the grand gallery,” he announces. “On the
west side of the pyramid.”
“What is that? I don’t want to go to the grand gallery, I want to go out. How do you know that?”
“It says so right here.” Ray points to the tiny pictographs while Merve looks on coolly. “I’m fluent in
heiroglyphology,” says Ray. “If you could call it that. Can tell you how to spell anything you want. What would you
like to learn how to spell?”
Another snake hisses by Merve’s foot. “Nothing,” she says. “Just lead the way out.”
“Spent years studying this stuff. Pyramids, mummies, kings and tombs. I could tell it all.”
“That is lovely,” replies Merve. “But unfortunately for you I’m not all that interested in ancient Egypt at the
moment.”
“Can’t see why not,” growls Ray. “It’s fascinatin’ stuff.”
“I’m sure it is,” replies Merve. “But I really have no desire to be excavated from underneath all of this fascinating
stuff a thousand years from now, so if we could please keep walking.”
“Nah, they’d get to it sooner than that, these days,” says Ray. “Ya probably wouldn’t be in there for more than a few
days.” There is a silence. “Well alright, let’s go.” Ray takes several steps and then pauses again, pointing off into
the darkness. “There’s a little tunnel that goes off right there,” he says. “Into a little chamber. They used it for
storing extra –
“That is lovely,” repeats Merve. “I saw one on the way in.”
“Well ya didn’t see the same one I bet. Each of ‘em has a different function see. If you jes’ follow me in here I’ll –
“I don’t care to see the chamber, thank you. Are you sure you know where you’re going?”
“You’re an awful grumpy lady,” observes Ray. There is another creak and they both stare blindly at the ceiling as it
lowers itself another few inches.
Merve points upward. “That is why I’m grumpy,” she says. “Now do you know where you are going or not?”
Ray flicks on the cigarette lighter and their eyes meet. That’s all that can be seen in the extreme black – the
smallest glimmer of the whites of their eyes and the flickering flame. Merve tries to determine if the redneck looks
malicious or not. He still has not answered her question. Merve feels her own eyes begin to twitch from staring.
The redneck cackles and Merve catches a flash of his teeth. She wonders whether it would be quicker to continue
forward or to try and return the way she came. “Ya blinked,” the redneck says, before she can decide.
Merve blinks again, this time in disbelief.
“I was just trying to give you a little tour is all. Jes’ good customer service, jes’ giving ya your money’s worth.” Ray
receives no response. He sighs. “Alright, c’mon let’s go, I’ll lead ya out.”
Merve is silent for the rest of the journey, but Ray continues to talk as they plod along through the darkness. “Spent
my whole life studying this stuff, I did. Right from the third grade. Right through high school an college an
graduating school. Sure looked nice on the certificate – Raymond Bolton PhD.” He waves his hands, as if
recreating the diploma out of thin air. “And I went to Egypt and saw the darn things for myself, that’s what I did. I
spent years there – best years of my life. Then I came back here and designed this.” Merve listens on skeptically
as Ray stops speaking for a moment and puts a hand over his mouth to cough. Lung cancer, thinks Merve.
“Now if we jes’ take this turn on the right here we should be good to go out.” They turn the corner and Merve sees
a small slit of light waving in the distance. It’s all she can do not to run for the exit and dive through the flaps out
into the sunlight. A lady of her age should not sprint, she reminds herself, but that doesn’t stop her from picking up
her pace to a brisk walk. As they near the exit Merve sees that several others are also clambering to escape. In
fact, there is a bit of a traffic jam in the narrow passage.
“Too many malfunctions these days,” Ray mutters. “ It’s those darn pigeons. Always trying to sneak in and screw
something up.”
“Pigeons,” repeats Merve.
“Well, looks like you got things from here,” Ray says. “Just straight ahead and you’re out. You have a nice day ma’
am.” He bows his head as if tipping a top hat and begins to retreat back into the darkness.
“You’re going back in there?” Merve blurts out in astonishment.
“Well, yes, I reckon so ma’am. I can’t say as I care too much for the rest of the world out there. I jes’ stay in here as
much as I can. Probably one day I’ll just be part of the exhibit. Come back in fifty years and you can see ol’ Ray
Bolton the mummy.” He gives another coarse chuckle. “Maybe get my own sarcophagus and everything too. You
have a nice day though, ya hear. Come back some time and bring the kiddos.” He backs up around the corner
and disappears, leaving his last words to echo down the blackened tunnel. “It’ll be all fixed up by then – good fun
for everyone. Ain’t nothing like an Egyptian pyramid.”
“Good grief, it’s dark.” The voice echoes off the walls and through the silent, near empty, surroundings.
There is a moment of quiet before a gruff voice sends back a response. “Yeah, might as well just camp out here
for a little bit. Won’t take long for them to turn the lights on.” Ray pulls out a cigarette lighter and lights up a smoke.
“See, we’ve got some light anyways. Would you look at that.” He holds the tiny flame up to the wall. “Rock, rock
and… more rock. Still in the tunnel.”
There is a mild sound of hacking, and then a loud cough. “Excuse me, would you mind not smoking?” says the
other person in the vicinity. “We are after all, in a tunnel, and there undoubtedly a limited supply of fresh air.”
“There’s plenty of air.” Ray sits down and leans back against the wall. “There’s a bajillion exits and entrances to
this thing. Air coming in and out all the time. Besides, a little tobacca smoke never hurt anyone, anyhow.” He
chuckles to himself and exhales. The smoky glow of a face appears faintly in his vision and before he can react a
hand has plucked the cigarette from his lips. He hears the scuffle of a boot scratching out the butt on the dirt floor.
“Now look what you’ve done, ya went and doused all the light.”
“Lighter please,” instructs the stranger.
“Whadd’ya want my lighter for?”
“Well I am certainly not planning on just waiting around in here forever, especially now that I can’t even breathe.”
“Listen lady, what did I tell you, the lights will be on in less than ten minutes. Just got to wait it out is all. You jes’ sit
down and relax. Here, have a smoke.” The small white cylinder is barely visible in the smoky darkness and
nobody reaches out to take it. Ray shoves the cigarette back into his newly opened pack of Camels.
“Seeing as you’re just planning on sitting here until the lights come on, whenever that may be, it seems perfectly
reasonable for me to take the cigarette lighter so I can find my way out. And at least that way you won’t be able to
asphyxiate the rest of the visitors.” Merve Jenkins taps her foot and waits for a response. It is just her luck to get
trapped in a pitch-black tomb with only an insolent redneck for her sidekick.
“What’s the matter,” the redneck says. “Afraid you’ll get stuck in here with King Tut?” He gives another coarse
chuckle. Merve is not amused. A lady of her age shouldn’t have to be bothered by such riffraff. A lady of her age
shouldn’t be faced with the task of wandering blindly around a faux-Egyptian tunnel, hoping to happen upon a way
out. She will most certainly be filing a complaint. If the redneck doesn’t suffocate her to death first. Or worse. One
never can tell what kind of people might be found inside an imitation pyramid and things were certainly not looking
bright for Merve so far. Shouldn’t there be emergency backup lights in such an exhibit? Is that not a reasonable
idea for an enclosed, dark thing?
Merve turns and starts down the dark tunnel empty handed. She treads slowly, and runs one hand along the right
wall in case she should encounter a sign or an exit. The complete darkness makes the eerie quiet even more
discomforting. She hears the sudden hiss of a cobra at her feet, and then another. Merve stops short, foolishly
frightened by the life-like sound effects.
“Boo,” a voice half whispers in her right ear. Merve whirls around to see the redneck standing there, a casual
smile on his face.
“Scared ya, did I?” he says. Merve sends a stony glare, penetrating through the darkness, in his direction.
“Didn’t want you to get lost,” the redneck explains. “ And I reckon I know this place better’n you.”
“You do, do you?” responds Merve. This may be her first time visiting the “Tomb” but certainly she would have
superior knowledge to this character with the rotting teeth and the tobacco addiction.
“Well I’ve been here several times, see,” the redneck says. Several times, thinks Merve; the exhibit’s only been
open for a month.
“You might even call me a bit of a regular,” he adds. Merve doesn’t want to know how regular. Perhaps the
redneck is a homeless man and lives in the tomb.
“Fact is, I could probably find my way out of here without the lights.”
“Is that so,” says Merve. She isn’t thrilled about taking help from the man, even if he could find the way out. “I think I’
ll be alright on my own,” she says. “No need to trouble yourself. You jes’ sit and wait for the lights to come on.”
Merve starts off again down the tunnel. The soft pad of footsteps signals that the redneck is still following her.
Merve stops again intending to reprimand the fellow when there is a loud creaking noise from above. She
freezes, craning her head towards the top of the tunnel.
“What was that?”
“Just the ceiling most likely,” says the redneck.
“What do you mean, just the ceiling,” asks Merve shortly.
“The ceiling moves, see. It’s part of the activity of the tomb, which they run sometimes for the school kids. They
have to find the lost treasure or the mummy in the allotted time before the ceiling comes down. Makes it more
exhilarating, like the actual excavation of a pyramid that way.”
“I’m not in that activity,” Merve protests wildly. “What do they do, just squish the children?”
“Reckon it’s probably just a malfunction,” says Ray calmly.
“A malfunction! Do you mean to say that the ceiling is simply going to collapse on our heads?”
Ray strokes his bearded chin. “I wouldn’t say so, it only ever goes down to about five feet.”
Merve shudders. “Fine. If you know how to get out, lead the way,” she concedes. The redneck steps forward. “My
pleasure,” he says.
Ray pulls out his cigarette lighter and holds it up to the wall, illuminating a set of pale blue hieroglyphs. He runs the
small spark of light along the strand of pictures. “We’re approaching the grand gallery,” he announces. “On the
west side of the pyramid.”
“What is that? I don’t want to go to the grand gallery, I want to go out. How do you know that?”
“It says so right here.” Ray points to the tiny pictographs while Merve looks on coolly. “I’m fluent in
heiroglyphology,” says Ray. “If you could call it that. Can tell you how to spell anything you want. What would you
like to learn how to spell?”
Another snake hisses by Merve’s foot. “Nothing,” she says. “Just lead the way out.”
“Spent years studying this stuff. Pyramids, mummies, kings and tombs. I could tell it all.”
“That is lovely,” replies Merve. “But unfortunately for you I’m not all that interested in ancient Egypt at the
moment.”
“Can’t see why not,” growls Ray. “It’s fascinatin’ stuff.”
“I’m sure it is,” replies Merve. “But I really have no desire to be excavated from underneath all of this fascinating
stuff a thousand years from now, so if we could please keep walking.”
“Nah, they’d get to it sooner than that, these days,” says Ray. “Ya probably wouldn’t be in there for more than a few
days.” There is a silence. “Well alright, let’s go.” Ray takes several steps and then pauses again, pointing off into
the darkness. “There’s a little tunnel that goes off right there,” he says. “Into a little chamber. They used it for
storing extra –
“That is lovely,” repeats Merve. “I saw one on the way in.”
“Well ya didn’t see the same one I bet. Each of ‘em has a different function see. If you jes’ follow me in here I’ll –
“I don’t care to see the chamber, thank you. Are you sure you know where you’re going?”
“You’re an awful grumpy lady,” observes Ray. There is another creak and they both stare blindly at the ceiling as it
lowers itself another few inches.
Merve points upward. “That is why I’m grumpy,” she says. “Now do you know where you are going or not?”
Ray flicks on the cigarette lighter and their eyes meet. That’s all that can be seen in the extreme black – the
smallest glimmer of the whites of their eyes and the flickering flame. Merve tries to determine if the redneck looks
malicious or not. He still has not answered her question. Merve feels her own eyes begin to twitch from staring.
The redneck cackles and Merve catches a flash of his teeth. She wonders whether it would be quicker to continue
forward or to try and return the way she came. “Ya blinked,” the redneck says, before she can decide.
Merve blinks again, this time in disbelief.
“I was just trying to give you a little tour is all. Jes’ good customer service, jes’ giving ya your money’s worth.” Ray
receives no response. He sighs. “Alright, c’mon let’s go, I’ll lead ya out.”
Merve is silent for the rest of the journey, but Ray continues to talk as they plod along through the darkness. “Spent
my whole life studying this stuff, I did. Right from the third grade. Right through high school an college an
graduating school. Sure looked nice on the certificate – Raymond Bolton PhD.” He waves his hands, as if
recreating the diploma out of thin air. “And I went to Egypt and saw the darn things for myself, that’s what I did. I
spent years there – best years of my life. Then I came back here and designed this.” Merve listens on skeptically
as Ray stops speaking for a moment and puts a hand over his mouth to cough. Lung cancer, thinks Merve.
“Now if we jes’ take this turn on the right here we should be good to go out.” They turn the corner and Merve sees
a small slit of light waving in the distance. It’s all she can do not to run for the exit and dive through the flaps out
into the sunlight. A lady of her age should not sprint, she reminds herself, but that doesn’t stop her from picking up
her pace to a brisk walk. As they near the exit Merve sees that several others are also clambering to escape. In
fact, there is a bit of a traffic jam in the narrow passage.
“Too many malfunctions these days,” Ray mutters. “ It’s those darn pigeons. Always trying to sneak in and screw
something up.”
“Pigeons,” repeats Merve.
“Well, looks like you got things from here,” Ray says. “Just straight ahead and you’re out. You have a nice day ma’
am.” He bows his head as if tipping a top hat and begins to retreat back into the darkness.
“You’re going back in there?” Merve blurts out in astonishment.
“Well, yes, I reckon so ma’am. I can’t say as I care too much for the rest of the world out there. I jes’ stay in here as
much as I can. Probably one day I’ll just be part of the exhibit. Come back in fifty years and you can see ol’ Ray
Bolton the mummy.” He gives another coarse chuckle. “Maybe get my own sarcophagus and everything too. You
have a nice day though, ya hear. Come back some time and bring the kiddos.” He backs up around the corner
and disappears, leaving his last words to echo down the blackened tunnel. “It’ll be all fixed up by then – good fun
for everyone. Ain’t nothing like an Egyptian pyramid.”
 |
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| New Hampshire Writers |
| A Lesson in Hieroglyphology by: Megan Ulin |