Before setting foot in Syria, my mind was filled with dreams of adventure and discovery. I was a young explorer, driven by an insatiable curiosity to unearth the secrets of ancient civilizations. The tales of the ancient land of Syria, with its rich history and archaeological wonders, had captivated my imagination since childhood.
Preparations for my expedition were meticulous. I assembled a team of fellow researchers and scholars, and together we poured over maps, documents, and historical accounts. We planned our journey, hoping to delve into the heart of Mesopotamia, where remnants of the Akkadians and Assyrians awaited our discovery. Wanting to find their ruins, and to discover any treasures of the past.
As I ventured into this unforgiving land with my group, the harsh reality of the desert unfolded before our eyes. Endless stretches of barren sand and scorching heat greeted us, testing our resolve and stamina. The relentless sun beat down upon us, threatening to drain our energy and our spirits.
Days turned into nights as we pressed on, our thirst growing with each passing hour. Water became our most prized possession, and we rationed it meticulously, hoping to find an oasis or a freshwater source in this arid expanse. But the desert seemed to taunt us, offering no respite, no signs of life.
Until we made camp for the night. I have gotten ready to sleep, until one of the men of my group shouted of an incoming sandstorm that threatened us. It was something that was unexpected. I prayed to God to save us from this predicament. Huddling within my tent, Iaid down wishing that nothing would happen to me. But I was too tired to do anything, until I succumbed to sleep.
On the following morning I woke up from my slumber. And there I crawled out of my tent, when my eyes widened to my utter disbelief. I was alone. Abandoned by my so-called peers, whom I once trusted, I found myself navigating this treacherous landscape alone.
The isolation was suffocating, the vastness of the desert swallowing me whole. But I pressed on, driven by an unwavering determination to uncover the mysteries that lay hidden within Mesopotamia’s embrace.
I have searched for water for days and nights, wandering through the unforgiving land of Mesopotamia. There I looked upon a shadow of a great derelict slowly emerging as I walked. Only for me to come before a ruined red temple. How long has it been here, and who built it? Was it the Sumerians or the Akkadians? Only the sands know.
There I sought shelter within the great temple as the sun became ever more punishing. Pillars held the ceiling like an atlas, holding the foundation over the ages.
The temple exuded an aura of both awe and foreboding. Its grandeur was undeniable, the walls, the columns, and the ceilings were decorated with Hieroglyphs and Cuneiforms of life that were before. Beautiful yet haunting as I walked past the silent sentinels of statues.
The more I ventured deep within the great halls, the cooler it became. Behind me was the light of the sun, which became dimmer as the evening progressed. How long have I been here? I must’ve lost track of time due to the distraction of these ancient wonders.
I stopped and gazed upon a statue either made of red clay or stone, as there were no fractures or any sort of damage. It seemed to be well intact, as if it were made yesterday. It took the form of a woman who is curvaceous, busty, and, I believe, voluptuous.
How many ideas popped into my mind? Was this a fertility goddess or a goddess of love? Or it could have been a queen. In front of her is an altar made of marble, decorated with events of the past displayed in art, yet nothing that is familiar with Sumerian. Who has made these illustrations? On top of it was the body of a dead, petrified woman, with her flesh dried.
Yet I can still make out from its olive-tan pigments that she is wearing some sort of clothing that I do not recognize. It does not look either Sumerian or Akkadian, and it definitely is not Egyptian. Her clothes were red while she was wearing jewelry composed of platinum, which was extremely odd to me as usually people of high royalty tend to wear golden jewelry but not Platinum.
As I gazed upon it with fascination. She must have departed in her late twenties or early thirties. But her preservation even to this day is amazing; she even retained her full head of red hair.
Something then caught my eye as I examined the mummified corpse, and there was a yawning hole in her chest as my eyes looked past it and found her abnormal heart laying in her hand. It was dried, yet it wasn’t shriveled or shrunk, but intact with its great blood vessels.
It was odd that it was lying on her hand. Yet I found no dagger or sharp instrument near her or around her. I looked around for one, but there was nothing. It is preposterous that she did this to herself, and the only explanation is a sacrifice done by priests. And if so, what gods have they offered too? Was it for this unknown goddess that was before me?
Only this mummified woman knows. Of course, this was done thousands of years ago, before the birth of our Lord. I placed my fingers upon the organ as it felt smooth yet rough, and somehow It did not break apart.
She must have suffered greatly by the hands of these ancient priests. But who knows what the situation was in the past? Until I felt a slight rhythm, then life came upon it.
Her dry heart began to throb. I walked back in shock. The hairs on my arms began to rise. My eyes were fixated on that beating heart as it slowly began to reanimate itself. The veins soon started to pulsate and wiggle. Fear immediately took hold of my body, but curiosity took the better of me. Until I heard a breath emanating from her mouth, followed by a groan, her fingers twitched with the stretch of her hands, just as if she were waking up from a long slumber.
My legs could not move as I stood frozen, like the columns that held the ceiling. There, the heart, with its thunderous beating, picked up its pace. My very foundations of intellect were shaken in their place, and my own mind was trying to wrap itself in this so-called reanimation.
Then I felt a hard grasp on my left ankle. I looked down and saw the petrified woman on the ground. But! How did she even get so close to me? She raised her head up and fixed her face towards me with those closed sockets and her ghoulish grin. I could not move. I could not run. I could not scream. I fell on my back, dumbstruck.
She forcefully dragged me to her altar with such superhuman strength. I pleaded with her and begged her to unhand me at once as I tried my best to pull away from her. I had not committed any crime against her or done harm to anyone.
I am just an archaeologist from Oxford trying to make my name. She gazed at me and wrapped her arms around me. She laid her head on my shoulders. The sounds of the doors were slowly shutting, and the light that shines through is getting dimmer and dimmer. But who is closing these doors? There was no one closing them. How is this possible? Am I going to die inside this mausoleum? A mausoleum—yes, that’s it. It is no temple; it’s a mausoleum of all things.
How am I a fool not to realize what this structure is?
To my horror, the doors of this forgotten mausoleum were about to be sealed, with me imprisoned within them.
Why me, why me of all men stuck in this dire situation? I demanded an explanation from her. But it was fruitless, as I came to the fundamental realization that she may not understand my language. How can she even know what I was saying or even my own mannerisms? How can she even know?
I came looking for water, but instead, I came upon this undead woman and her domain. The sarcophagus unsealed itself as if some invisible force had pushed the lid open. She dragged me into it. I fought for my very life not to get inside. With sheer luck, I broke free from her clutches. I ran towards the entrance and did not look back.
There it was—the great door. I tried to pry the door open with all of my strength, but to no avail. I found it impossible. There I saw a bronze spear lying on the floor. I grabbed hold of it and tried my very best to pry it open. Until I heard a giggle behind me. I did not dare turn my head the other way, as I feared that she might be behind me. Sweat poured from my face profusely.
Trying so hard to pry this obnoxious door open. I begged God to at least help me on this day. There, I felt two hands on my shoulders. I kept on praying for the good Lord to help me in my time of need, furiously prying open this diabolical door with all my might, I pushed against the unyielding door, straining every muscle in my body.
The hands on my shoulders tightened their grip, and a chilling breath grazed the back of my neck. The sensation sent shivers down my spine, but I refused to give in to fear. I summoned every ounce of courage within me and summoned a final surge of strength.
The door creaked and groaned, as if protesting against my efforts, but it slowly gave way under the relentless force. Light seeped through the opening, piercing the darkness of the mausoleum. With a final heave, I pushed the door wide open and stumbled out into the blinding sunlight.
Gasping for breath, I turned around, expecting to see the undead woman right behind me. But to my astonishment, there was nothing. The mausoleum stood silent and still, its secrets hidden once again. It appeared as though I had escaped its clutches.
I collapsed onto the sand, my heart pounding and my body trembling from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I was filled with both relief and an overwhelming sense of dread. What had I witnessed in that ancient tomb? How had that mummified woman come back to life?
Realizing that staying in this desolate place was no longer an option, I gathered my remaining strength and began my trek back to civilization. The images of the undead woman, her reanimated heart, and the eerie mausoleum haunted my every thought.
Weak and disoriented, as I lay on the sand, panting and trying to gather my thoughts, a sense of unease washed over me. A chill ran down my spine, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. I slowly turned my head, hoping against hope that I was mistaken. But my heart sank as I saw her standing there, her ghoulish grin etched on her face.
She was different now, her form shifting and changing before my eyes. Her flesh, once dried and withered, now appeared almost alive, pulsating with an unnatural vitality. Her eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, fixed upon me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.
I scrambled to my feet, my legs weak and trembling. I couldn’t comprehend how she had found me or how she had escaped the confines of the mausoleum. It seemed as though there was no escape from her relentless pursuit. She was there, and she was there to stay.
Her movements were slow and deliberate as she closed the distance between us. I stumbled backward, my mind racing, searching for a way out. But she was relentless; her grip on me was unyielding. I pleaded with her and begged for mercy, but my words fell on deaf ears.
She laid her hands upon my shoulders once again, her touch sending a wave of icy dread through my body. The realization struck me like a thunderbolt—I was trapped, caught in the clutches of an undead entity from a time long past.
At that moment, my thoughts scattered like ashes in the wind. I had ventured into this forsaken land seeking glory and discovery, but now I found only terror and despair. The world around me blurred as I succumbed to the darkness, resigned to my fate as her prisoner.
And as she led me back towards the mausoleum, her laughter echoed in my ears, a haunting melody that would forever haunt my nightmares. I had become a captive in her macabre domain, a living testament to the horrors that lay hidden within the ancient ruins.
With the last ounce of hope, I reached into my pocket and felt the familiar shape of my smartphone. How it had remained undamaged amidst the chaos is a mystery to me. I quickly composed a desperate message, my fingers trembling as I typed.
I knew the reception in this desolate place was weak, but to my astonishment, I saw two bars appear on the screen. It was a glimmer of hope, a lifeline to the outside world. I poured my plea for help into that message, praying that someone would receive it. Please, I begged silently, let them see my words and come to my rescue.