Here's a recap of the countdown~
9. Nightmare on Elm Street
7. Friday the 13th
6. Pet Sematary
5. The Howling ~ might watch this later :)
4. The Crow
3. Night of the Living Dead
2. Double Feature~ 30 Days of Night and Bram Stocker's Dracula
1. The Mummy
Hope you enjoyed the countdown. Now unto Cursed!
By M.A. Kastle
~ Time does not stop for the dead, you know this, and still, part of you pleads for a different way. ~
The Gods, who once demanded obedience and ruled the world with evil, grew weary of their immoral diversions. With weak hearts and weaker minds, they crept into their tombs to die. In their apathetic state they encouraged fear and darkness to keep their wickedness alive.
It is there, deep in the heart of a fiery desert, they remain hidden and lying beside their victims.
Traces of their existence have been swept away by the wind and sand. The elements have taken the task to bury their dark restless secret under the desert’s shifting layers. With each new day, the sun rises to caress the land and fool mortal men into forgetting the horrors that once stained the desert sands crimson with innocent blood.
~~~~~ The time for resurrection has come. ~~~~~
Evil’s essence weaves around him embracing his stagnant heart while breathing a thread of life into his soul to keep his body alive. Revenge keeps his ancient mind occupied while its black poison creeps in his withered veins. He waited for the Gods to weaken before casting his spell. Now with scarcely enough strength his once full lips, dry with death caress the wind with a motet of the starved.
Will the Called answer his feeble prayer?
Will the Gods sense his intentions and rise to finish what they started?
Caught in the web of delirium and suffering a flawed consciousness, the answer weaves itself into being. The Gods abandoned their people in the pit of their own selfishness. Seeking refuge in the darkness, they are as he is, suspended forever between life and the hereafter, between the tangible and the mythical.
Trembling, he knows there are risks to his design. Will the scavengers of the earth know what cursed creature summoned them and answer his motet? Will the words of the sacred text bring him the sacrifices he needs to live again?
His life depends on every manner of creeping crawling insect. In order to free his body from its suspended state, he needs their nourishment. The Called will be his vessels that carry the rich substance. They will surrender to the demands of motet and feed on humans and animals. Once fattened with the precious life force they will follow the ancient whisper to him.
Their sacrifice will give him the blood of man and weaken the malevolent curse binding him to his prison and the edge of death. It won’t end there, no, it is merely the first step. His body quakes and the sound of dead skin rustles in his ears. As if poisoning him further, he feels time slipping away. The wait, revenge, and dreams of having life in his grasp push his frustration further.
He should have stayed in the new world as instructed. The promise of wealth and riches drew him to the desert. He laughed in his mind just as Anubis had laughed at him when he begged for death and mercy that night centuries ago. The god of death told him it had been his voice calling him. Following the voice had led him to the very spot he lay bleeding to death. And there were no riches to be had. “Curse you.” he had yelled. With his word, he tasted the sweetness of blood. Tangy drops of spoiled meat coated the back of his throat as it threaded down. The knowledge it was his blood churned his stomach.
“Swear your life to me.” Anubis growled.
Two dark points immerged from midnight’s hold, grew darker and stopped. Saad backed away when the god’s face became clearer and his form, nothing more than a spirit, floated in air. The black eyes held in mist narrowed on him, conveying a silent threat.
The mummy woke from the memory to the sound of grating sand. ‘Could it be?’ he asked himself as hope worked through his black heart. Had the Called arrived to sacrifice their lives? He waited with tormented patience. His limbs yearned to move, his body starved for life, and his mind, his mind rushed with every desire from his past. Lying motionless, seconds turned into minutes stretching out and turned into hours. Doubt struck parading deceit and uncertainty through the hope his motet had been answered. When silence grew as thick as the walls surrounding him his weakened body wanted to thrash inside his stone prison. His hoped died and his mind slipped into darkness as it had for centuries. Only now, it tasted sour with wasted years and threw him in the abyss of failure and sadness. As he fell deeper into his bleak consciousness, his memories played before his unseeing eyes.
“You will be granted the revenge your heart seeks. If you swear your life to me.” he growled. Anubis drifted closer, his floating spirit towering above Saad.
A new fear moved around him wrapping him in its evil embrace. He prayed for his revenge and now it was within his grasp. At what cost? Shaking his head he repeated no, no, no, then laid back into the hot sand and prayed death to take his soul. No mortal had ever denied a god, especially one as great as Anubis. Death had become nothing but a promise of peace and now lying in the desert sand it had become a lie. He made his oath to the pagan dog and now his life was no longer his own.
He struggled to escape the hostile god’s grip. In his mind he turned, grains of sand covering him and felt as if they were as heavy as stones. It took minutes for his suspended mind to decipher and then understand what was happening. His knees hit the inside of the sarcophagus as he tried to push himself away from the pain. Blackness swam around him, pushing his senses to their breaking point. He was lost in what had been his sanctuary and resting place for so long. The mummy cried out, a sliver of space between his shedding lips, a rough whisper escaping his throat.
Inside his skull, a melody broke through his never ceasing nightmare. A sharp chirping rang in chorus as the army of the Called marched over his body.
Anubis, the guardian of the dead was not a healer. Instead of giving the gift of death, the god had kept him between worlds for centuries. As the days and years passed and he was left drifting between life and death, it had grown tiresome. He wanted to die before he went insane. By then, hate for Anubis had become his only thought. Dying meant he would never get revenge and living meant he was no longer a free man. It was a web he couldn’t escape.
They broke the silence of a lost tomb scurrying across the floor thick with sand. Without question, they found a path through the rock wall threading their paths with lines trailing behind them. Soon, not one line stood out. As one, the insects descended on the crack riddled sarcophagus. The Called arrived, thousands of them marching through the sand following his plea until they found the source and gave him their lives. They were pushing him through another birth, an unholy birth that included the blood and lives of insects and reptiles. Saad, nothing more than a decaying mummy, struggled to maintain the blood the called were giving to him. With sudden animation threading through age dried bones, he could only absorb what his weak state would allow. The rest was lost, seeping out of his sinuous arms and legs. His hollow abdomen filling with thousands of lives soaked the silk wrapping that had cradled his body. If there had been any light in his final resting place, it would have shown the sickly yellow film clinging to the wrapping.
One full day and one full night of feeding gave him no more strength than that of a newborn infant. Still, the savagely wrapped arm of the mummy fought for freedom. His slow movements ended the silence, as a dry rough groan escaped into the air accompanied by the sound that only thousand year old silk could make as it pulled away from its resting place. He struggled with his want of movement and the weakness of his body.
One by one, the dead insects fell from his body to lie at the bottom of the stone sarcophagus. There they would remain as proof of their sacrifice. The mummy knew he hadn’t the strength to call a bigger army, not yet. He made his demands on those he could. Life would take time, for the Called were nothing more than insects. His arm lifted unnoticed in the darkness then silently laid to rest. No more motion came from the sarcophagus. No more noise came from the dried lungs. The mummy gave up the struggle for movement. It had been enough for one day. After he grew in strength, he would call bigger couriers. He only needed time and time was something he didn’t fear, but reveled in.
While the mummy rested, intent on regaining what strength he could, the sun outside the tomb blazed the last of its heated kiss before sinking below the horizon. Twilight brought a strong wind licking at the cooling sand before gathering it up and swirling it into a funnel. With a violent hand, it carried away thousands of grains and scattered them across the cursed land that was awakening beneath those who tread innocently upon it.
The chill of night retreated as the sun, not yet at the horizon chased it away with its promise of heat. Once the sun rose, another day would open its arms to the cycle of life and death. Under the desert sand another world opened, a new calling was taking place. Death was feeding from life. The insects had done their job sacrificing their lives. His ambition grew and a stronger voice sent a new motet, a new song out demanding a more powerful sacrifice. One fit for a god. He desired the serpent’s poisoned kiss. Onward toward the buried tomb they slithered across the warming sand. Each slowly buried itself, digging deeper on their way to their shared sacrifice, their shared death.
Emotions raged through his thoughts teasing his mind with revenge, its honeyed syrup glazing over his silent tongue. The anticipation of thinking and feeling again conjured a coarse laugh inside his cadaverous chest. His emaciated heart lying restless in the insect’s slick cream began reforming. Scarlet threads reached, wrapped, then covered the muscle as the silence was broken by the new invasion. Once more when he heard sand grating against stone. The throng of snakes dug through the layers of sand, drove their narrowed heads through the tombs crumbling walls, and slithered through the cracks of his sarcophagus. They carried the outside world with them on their scales, in their entranced minds, and in their fangs.
The mummy wanted to recoil from their glassy touch. His motet beckoned them even knowing snakes are an evil without reach and the devil’s instrument. Was he willing to become the devil? He was going to do the devil’s work of revenge. The snakes knew what he really was and answered the call to feed him.
Each slithered their taut bodies into the sarcophagus covering his withered body while the scales of their under bellies pulled the rotting silk away from his chest, arms, and legs. For the first time in years, the cool air of the tomb caressed his exposed flesh. Tissue and muscle not yet whole, he thought with ecstasy. Hundreds of thoughts swirled around his mind. Some real, some dreamlike, some of his past while others served as warnings. Anubis was there somewhere in the desert waiting as he was.
Would the serpent’s kiss allow him the revenge that ate at his being? Doubt crept in his mind.
Any clear thoughts carrying weight were short lived as his mind gripped the pain that had sent him to the grave to begin with. The snakes were forgotten as fire ruptured in his spine then crept slowly up his neck and head. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself curling into the fetal position while scorching sand burned his bare arms and legs. Soon hot tears rolled down his tanned cheeks, glittering in the high sun.
All of it was a memory of who he was, not what he was turning into. With his mind remembering another life, a rough cry escaped his raw throat. Everything was forgotten with the pain until a thousand fangs sank into bone and new flesh, pulsing new fire through his body. Muscles contracted trying to push the pain and fangs out of his flesh. The snakes with their scales gripping the mummy’s body continued to work their offering from their slender cores. Each bite brought him closer to the tangible.
“Curse you Anubis.” he yelled out. The sound of his voice foreign to him, the sadness it held burning his ears.
Pain seared his thoughts as hate boiled in his middle. He would have his revenge. As new muscles covered graying bone and veins thickened with blood, his mind reminded him of the vow he had made with the cursed god of the dead, before his life had ended all those years ago. Anubis took his mortal life and left him to serve in a tomb alone. In the throws of pain, the mummy cast his old self, Saad aside and made a new vow, he would destroy Anubis and take his place. It might take another round of sacrifices and countless hours. He had plenty of time, if he moved cautiously and had patience. In the end, he would test the other gods and see if he could destroy them all. Ruling the world was better than being its slave. The mummy moved his new flesh, proving to himself his strength was returning. The sound of rotten cloth echoed in his ears as the first beat of his new heart echoed in his chest.
“Cut, cut, cut.” the director yelled from his perch above the crumbling sarcophagus. “I said you are a ‘tortured man whose life had been taken away from him’. For god’s sake, Anubis mummified you. That makes YOU a mummy bent on revenge! You are not a nar-ra-tor!” The entire cast and crew heard the deep breath taken by the director. “Have the decency to understand the sarcophagus you’re in and try looking pissed off.” he ended.
“I can only do so much lying in this thing!” the actor yelled back. “If you hadn’t noticed it’s like a hundred and twenty in this tomb. Why we had to come to Egypt is beyond me.” The dyed polyester fell away with the actors struggle to yell at the director. As the material lay against his chest, his bright blue eyes stared up from the sarcophagus.
“Why couldn’t I have worked with Christopher Lee?” the director mumbled to himself. He shook his head with frustration. “Fine. Go to make-up and get those wrappings fixed.” With controlled anger, he pointed over towards the crewmembers. “You- over there- get the snakes out of there. Even I can tell they’re plastic!”
Spying on them from behind an untouched wall of the tomb, black eyes stared down on his next victims. ‘Why must they invade and disturb me?’