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Journal of Evan Marshall III
March 9th, 1926 - East of Cairo, Egypt
If it weren't for men like myself, and Carter before me, the mysteries of these ancient lands would be lost to the ages. Even though I'm just starting out, I feel that I'm destined for great things. My guide, Mahmud, assures me that we'll find something in this barren wasteland besides scorpions and sand fleas. Supposedly, it was his father that led Carter to Tut. We shall see.
March 16th, 1926
We've been digging at this site for days now, I'm getting a bit discouraged. The weather here is unbearable, the insects a plague, and not a single one of the men can make a decent cup of tea. It's not at all how I imagined it. Still, I won't give up yet. That's just what father expects me to do.
March 23, 1926
Mahmud brought me some pieces of pottery this morning. Despite his great excitement, I only date them a few hundred years old. Nothing interesting at all.
March 30, 1926
I can't wait to get home and out of this pervasive sand. I'm sure father will welcome me back with open arms now that I've been gone this long. Besides, I have some lovely bits of broken pottery to show for all my time here. Maybe I can buy something at the bazaar in Cairo.
March 31st, 1926
Mahmud rushed into my tent today claiming that he had found something. It's a crudely made goblet that clearly does not belong in Egypt. Parts of it are gold, and there's a large silver coin inset into the base. This is a great find... I'll be famous!
April 1st, 1926
Considering today's date, I am a fool indeed. Mahmud wants to turn the cup over to the museum. It'll sit there for decades untouched, and I'll come away with nothing. What can I do?
April 2nd, 1926
I've booked my passage for three days hence.
April 5th, 1926 - Cairo
At least I won't be leaving here empty handed. After Mahmud packed the goblet away, I snuck in and pried off the silver coin. It looks Roman in origin.
__________
Evan could feel the weight of the coin in his pocket. It was similar in size to the rest of his coins, and that was what he was counting on in his efforts to smuggle it out of the country. He waited nervously for the call to board the ship.
A commotion at the other end of the dock drew Evan's attention. He could see soldiers rushing his way and, blast it, Mahmud was leading them. He had to get rid of the coin! Reaching into his pocket he hastily scanned the cargo still left on the dock, and stuffed the coin into a crate that was about to be hoisted aboard the ship. Pleased with himself and confident that he'd be able to retrieve the coin later, he stepped forward and awaited the arrival of the soldiers.
An ominous creaking sound and shouting caused Evan to look up. He was just in time to witness the means of his own demise, as the rope hoisting the crate onto the barge snapped, sending it plummeting downwards.
As the dust settled, a tall, thin man approached the scene. To any casual observer, it would appear that he was standing in shadow, but in the unrelenting Egyptian sun, there was no shade to be had. A glint of silver caught the thin man's eye, and, cat fast, he scooped up the missing coin. He opened a small leather pouch on his hip and dropped it in, where it clinked against others of its kind.
With a voice like a freshly opened tomb, the thin man said, "Ten to go."
Showing posts with label coin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coin. Show all posts
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Thursday, July 26, 2007
The Piece of Silver
It was old, there was no denying that. Gerry turned the coin over in his fingers and looked at it more closely. Over the centuries, countless hands had nearly rubbed all traces of identifying features from the silver disc, but, if angled just right, he could make out what looked like a laurel wreath on one side and the profile of some long-dead king on the other. It felt slick in his hands, and for some reason, that made Gerry a bit uneasy.
Looking at the expensive display that the coin had been housed in, Gerry decided that in the old man’s collection, this was surely the most prized. If anything would hurt the old man, losing his pride and joy would be it. And Gerry definitely wanted to hurt the old man, especially after being betrayed as harshly as he had been. “A man shouldn’t have to go through that,” thought Gerry as he carefully retraced his steps out of the office and relocked the door.
It was just after midnight when Gerry finally got home. That uneasy feeling hadn’t left him since he had taken the old piece of silver and he vowed to get rid of it in the morning.
The dreams that plagued Gerry that night were vivid… brutal… and in all of them: Death. Bloody death. The last dream had the old man, covered in blood that wasn’t his own, standing over the wreckage of what was once another person. He looked different though… younger, and with more hair.
When he crawled out of bed, Gerry felt worse than he did the night before. The uneasy feeling was now a sense of dread. He had to get rid of that coin! He rushed out of his house, deciding to cut through the vacant lot at the end of his street and over to the pawn shop on Weston.
In his haste, Gerry tripped over a half-unearthed root at the back of the lot. He threw out his hands to save himself from the fall, but the impact was still hard enough to send the contents of his shirt pocket flying towards the street. He watched in horror as the ancient coin bounced twice on the sidewalk then rolled into the street. Without even standing up, he scrambled over the sidewalk and dove for the coin. He never saw the car that killed him.
---
The car opened and the man within, despite having the sun almost directly in front of him, seemed to be bathed in shadow. He looked down and saw the flash of silver from the old coin. He reached out a thin hand and snatched it from the road with a movement almost too fast to see. He opened up a small leather bag beside him and dropped it in, where it made a pleasing clink against the other coins that were there. His voice rumbled out, sounding far too big to come from someone that thin, “Six to go.”
-Babaluzer
498 Words
July 26th, 2007
Looking at the expensive display that the coin had been housed in, Gerry decided that in the old man’s collection, this was surely the most prized. If anything would hurt the old man, losing his pride and joy would be it. And Gerry definitely wanted to hurt the old man, especially after being betrayed as harshly as he had been. “A man shouldn’t have to go through that,” thought Gerry as he carefully retraced his steps out of the office and relocked the door.
It was just after midnight when Gerry finally got home. That uneasy feeling hadn’t left him since he had taken the old piece of silver and he vowed to get rid of it in the morning.
The dreams that plagued Gerry that night were vivid… brutal… and in all of them: Death. Bloody death. The last dream had the old man, covered in blood that wasn’t his own, standing over the wreckage of what was once another person. He looked different though… younger, and with more hair.
When he crawled out of bed, Gerry felt worse than he did the night before. The uneasy feeling was now a sense of dread. He had to get rid of that coin! He rushed out of his house, deciding to cut through the vacant lot at the end of his street and over to the pawn shop on Weston.
In his haste, Gerry tripped over a half-unearthed root at the back of the lot. He threw out his hands to save himself from the fall, but the impact was still hard enough to send the contents of his shirt pocket flying towards the street. He watched in horror as the ancient coin bounced twice on the sidewalk then rolled into the street. Without even standing up, he scrambled over the sidewalk and dove for the coin. He never saw the car that killed him.
---
The car opened and the man within, despite having the sun almost directly in front of him, seemed to be bathed in shadow. He looked down and saw the flash of silver from the old coin. He reached out a thin hand and snatched it from the road with a movement almost too fast to see. He opened up a small leather bag beside him and dropped it in, where it made a pleasing clink against the other coins that were there. His voice rumbled out, sounding far too big to come from someone that thin, “Six to go.”
-Babaluzer
498 Words
July 26th, 2007
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
A Penny
Haran, literally down to the last and least coin from his shallow pockets, sat down heavily on the unpaved walk. He was hungry; that didn't stand to argument, but the last coin from his pocket was the coin that would someday lead to his own immense fortune. In this he had faith unwavering.
Turning the penny over and over in his palm, he squinted, imagining a time when the Great Magician Sonne was but the errand-boy of some minor mage, sitting as he was now at the edge of the walk, and pondering the magical potential of the circle. Surely a coin, formed into the purest of all shapes, was the ultimate vessel of power, for despite its size it possesses a strength of both material and form unequaled by any other ordinary object.
Still squinting, mostly to keep the sun and dust at bay, he rubbed at the penny with the corner of his tattered shirt, removing an age-old layer of caked-in grime. On one side, now, the penny symbol shone through. On the other, foreign lettering slowly appeared; surely this was no ordinary coin.
Haran was pulled brusquely from his daydreams by the tantalizing scent of honey-smoked ham from a nearby deli. Clutching the coin in his fist, he stood, hesitating only a moment before turning decidedly away. He must not think of food just now. He had only to harness the power stored in the coin by its previous owner, and the entire village would fall happily at his feet. He'd have all he needed, then.
He ran like the springtime rapids, far from the smells and sounds of the village. Down the forest pathway, his flight was interrupted by a root. A single, solitary root marred his path, and his hands splayed out before him to break his fall.
When Haran lifted his scraped palms from the dusty forest trail, he mourned over the loss of his beloved magic coin; for all he could find was a lone penny, no doubt dropped from the pocket of a long-gone passer-by.
-Faiora
350 Words
July 25, 2007
Turning the penny over and over in his palm, he squinted, imagining a time when the Great Magician Sonne was but the errand-boy of some minor mage, sitting as he was now at the edge of the walk, and pondering the magical potential of the circle. Surely a coin, formed into the purest of all shapes, was the ultimate vessel of power, for despite its size it possesses a strength of both material and form unequaled by any other ordinary object.
Still squinting, mostly to keep the sun and dust at bay, he rubbed at the penny with the corner of his tattered shirt, removing an age-old layer of caked-in grime. On one side, now, the penny symbol shone through. On the other, foreign lettering slowly appeared; surely this was no ordinary coin.
Haran was pulled brusquely from his daydreams by the tantalizing scent of honey-smoked ham from a nearby deli. Clutching the coin in his fist, he stood, hesitating only a moment before turning decidedly away. He must not think of food just now. He had only to harness the power stored in the coin by its previous owner, and the entire village would fall happily at his feet. He'd have all he needed, then.
He ran like the springtime rapids, far from the smells and sounds of the village. Down the forest pathway, his flight was interrupted by a root. A single, solitary root marred his path, and his hands splayed out before him to break his fall.
When Haran lifted his scraped palms from the dusty forest trail, he mourned over the loss of his beloved magic coin; for all he could find was a lone penny, no doubt dropped from the pocket of a long-gone passer-by.
-Faiora
350 Words
July 25, 2007
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