Djedefre's Wrath

         "What the hell?" the man whispered aloud, the hand rolled cigarette falling from his parted lips. He nearly dropped his crowbar as well, but the fear following his shock caused his hand to squeeze with vice-like strength. The man had left for only ten minutes, but returned to find not only something out of place, but something added to his home bound cargo as well.

         A very familiar young woman stood before him, dusting the supposedly resealed corpse of Djedefre with a feather duster, and wearing a french maid uniform.

         "Hello, Leonard." The woman said, not yet turning to look at him. Now shaking hard, the man stepped back and dropped the crowbar. "I see you're still doing what you do best."

         "I.... I wa...." The man stammered in confusion.

         "Stealing."

         She still did not look at him, and instead continued dusting with increased vigor. Although the sight would startle any man, Leonard felt a fear he had never known. He and his team looted tombs for a living, at the risk of disease, capture, or curse, but never had he been unable to speak from fear. Only five minutes before he whistled joyfully, as the new century had proven very lucrative for him.

         The woman seemed perfect. Ripe. Short golden hair fell to her shoulders, and long silky legs ran up to her exposed panties. Her beauty juxtaposed the death and decay of the old pharaoh, who now stood a grim reminder to Leonard's inevitable death.

         "How can you... how... I..."

         "Shhhh," she said softly, finally turning to meet his gaze "How can I be here? Ha, why shouldn't I be here?" She began to walk towards him. "It looks to me like you are the odd one out, Leonard. Me and the great Djedefre are dead, you are not." A warm stain of piss soaked his pant leg. "Not yet."

         She walked around him now, dusting off his jacket and belt.

         "How long has it... has it been?" he finally said.

         "Three years." She stopped circling and stood before him. With a pout she asked, "How could you not remember?" Not waiting for an answer she continued to circle. "I'll never forget. July 7th 1913. My final day. That is, until today." Her voice was beautiful, just like it was that seemed eternity ago. "Do you recognize this?" She ran her hand down her uniform. "It was the last thing I ever wore. I wore it for you."

         Leonard attempted to step back again, but found that he was frozen in place. Not by fear, as one would suspect, but by some force that he could not control. The woman laughed at his struggle.

         "Did you think you could just walk away?" She asked, smiling. "The last time I ever saw you you were walking away. Leaving the room, leaving me dead with my blood on your hands." She rubbed her hand on his chest. "You thought you had gotten away with it." She now spoke more to herself then him. "You thought no one would care about a dead whore. No one would ask. And you were right, until now."

         He struggled to move. His arms somehow had become pinned by his sides, completely at her mercy.

         "You didn't believe in the curse, don't you feel foolish?" She continued to stroke his chest.

         "What are... what are you talking about? What curse?" Her hand was very cold, and her finger felt like an icicle as it poked it's way through his buttoned up shirt.

         "Your Egyptian is not very good, but don't pretend you did not understand." Her face became stern. "The man you killed, your men here killed, begged you with his dying breath to not open the tomb."

          'Do not open the tomb," She said in flawless Egyptian, "for you shall pour forth a great horror upon this world'"

         She smiled again. "But you opened it anyway. I bet you did not know the horror would emerge from your own heart." Her eyes glazed over for a moment, and with a beautiful smile she added "I'm so glad you chose me."

         His arms suddenly spread out beside him, fully outstretched. He could feel his death approaching.

         "It seems, deep down, you did feel bad about what you did. For what you stole from me." Her face began to change, fangs emerging from her small perfect teeth. "My Life." Her voice got deeper, demon-like. "Djedefre has a death for all that trespass these lands, and I am yours." Her eyes began growing red with hunger. "Djedefre demands sacrifice for your impure acts, and he will only accept death that is drenched in fear. In unspeakable horror." His eyes opened wide as she took her true form, a form warped by a truly tortured soul. Tortured before it's proper time, plagued by fantasies of revenge.

         As he writhed in agony, her gaze never left his.