Prompt Day #249: Pen the monologue of a nostalgic mummy or vampire
I know this is short, but really, what would a mummy have to say about its history in the horror genre? Besides the Brenden Fraser Mummy franchise, it really has received the short ends of the crook and flail compared to its contemporaries. And what I find most interesting is: A mummy is real, it actually exists. It is really a dead body meant to live on while all the others are the stuff of fantasy. I’d be pissed if I were a mummy. Walk like an Egyptian has been replaced with The Walking Dead. Fucking Zombies.
The Curse of the Mummy
There was a time we were feared. We had power; we were mysterious. Death suspended beneath layers of muslin and spice. We lay in opulent tombs covered in threats and curses warning intruders to stay away. And in the beginning, we followed through on those threats. Beliefs of the living provided all the energy we needed to return and seek our vengeance. Scientific ignorance made monsters out of us for centuries.
Soon we were a fad, we were sought after as much as we were feared. Our crypts were violated, curses ignored, our secrets unwrapped, probed, and dissected. Our golden adornments were stolen and we were left shrunken and hideous, no longer sexy, fashionable conversation pieces. Yet again, we were relegated to monsters, but now, lesser creatures. Vampires and Wolfmen, even reanimated conglomerations of humans held more sway than we. And please do not get me started on “the walking dead”…Fucking zombies.
Once truly magnificent living gods given life eternal through occult ceremonies and burial techniques now relegated to the “classic monster” aisle of the local costume store while fantasy beasts become hairy high school jocks and sparkling Romeos.
In this world, reality as it eventually gives up all its secrets, can never hold the terror of the unknown, unmeasurable, and undiscoverable realm of the imagination. It is the true curse of the mummy.