My mummy is lying in a cold and dusty chamber. Not my mother but my dried out, dead body all wrapped in bandages. I’ve been here for over 3,000 years and I am very lonely and bored.
When they first put me in here it was very exciting. I heard people crying, the priests praying to Anubis, and musicians singing and playing music but then it went quiet. The only sound was a few spiders scuttling, and the dust slowly settling. I was all alone in the dark.
My name is Tutankhamun and I used to be king of Upper and Lower Egypt. When I was alive I loved to go hunting on my golden chariot, chasing wild bulls in the fresh air with the sun god Ra shining on my face. Now my chariot is over there in the corner in pieces next to my game boards. I haven’t played any games for a long time. I miss other people’s company. I miss being able to use all my nice things.
My coffin is made of wood, which is covered with gold and jewels. I heard the priests gasping in amazement because of the beautiful artwork but I can only see the inside which is black and dull. But my coffin is nothing compared to my death mask – a dazzling, wonderful portrait of me done in pure gold inlaid with lapis lazuli, obsidian, carnelian and turquoise. The priests said there was nothing like it anywhere in the world and there never would be. All I know is that it is uncomfortable, cold and heavy.
I remember them saying to me: “Your Majesty, if you are buried in the right way and we say all the right prayers and you learn the right spells then you will make it to the afterlife and you will be Pharaoh for ever with the other Kings and Queens and all the gods.” I’m still waiting here. Even meeting Ammut the Devourer of the Dead would be better than being stuck here in a hole in the ground under Ramesses VI.
Then a few days ago something different seemed to happen. I heard this faint noise like a chip-chip-chipping. It got louder and closer and it reminded me of something I’ve heard before. I think someone is coming down the stairs digging out the rubble as they go. Then I heard someone at the front door knocking a hole through it. Perhaps it could be tomb robbers again. To be honest I will be happy to see anyone after all these years. Then I heard a strike of a match and a flicker of a flame.
“Can you see anything?” asked a strange voice in a foreign accent.
“Yes,” said another quiet voice. “Wonderful things!”
I wonder what is going on and I wonder what they want. I wonder if they’d like to ride my chariot and play my games with me. Whatever it is I think things are going to get exciting again.
By Josie (age 7)