The Mummy

Adam leaned back on his folding chair and stared at the ceiling of the tent. The sight of the mummy was still fresh in his mind. It had been found deep inside the northern cave seated on a large stone throne. The walls, ceiling, and floor of the room had been smoothed by human hands. The throne sat on a large dias both of which were sculpted from the back wall. Certainly, Adam thought, this was a king.

Both the manner of its preservation and odd features had bothered him for days. Naturally preserved bodies were not unheard of in British Columbia, but this one was deliberate. That fact alone was significant enough to call into question the advancement of technology and culture in ancient North America. It was the body itself, however, that bothered Adam the most.

Roughly four feet tall, it seemed to be a child. The head was larger than that of a normal human and devoid of ears. Its small mouth had been sewn shut. Overly long arms and legs emanated from its otherwise short body. Each hand had only four elongated fingers, including the thumbs. Its feet were wrapped together, but the visible ridges in the cloth indicated a similar length and number of digits. Child or not, Adam thought, this being was clearly deformed. And that did not sit well with him. Who ever heard of a mutant king, he wondered?

Angela ran into the tent, short of breath. She was a woman of unexceptional beauty, attractive but not captivating. Adam was far more attracted to her intelligence and enthusiasm. Seeing her run around the site at the smallest hint of a find was a common occurrence, but the look in her eyes betrayed more than suspicions. “Dr. Smith,” she panted. “We found another one.”

February 11, 2007 • Posted in: Fiction

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