On the discovery of mummies and the cleaning of sheds

The excavation team was silent in the dark, submerged hallway. Only the dim light of a lantern illuminated the sealed doorway at the end of the passage. A worker, armed with a mallet and chisel, steadily worked at the stone. Each whack of the hammer echoed off the walls of the long corridor. 

Slowly but surely the wall began to give way. Eventually, the worker made a hole large enough to shine the lantern’s light. The head of the expedition, an Englishman with much experience digging through the sands of the north African desert, but little luck finding anything of great importance, shoved his way through the others, seized the light and peered through the opening. 

Behind the wall, glistening in the low light, were stacks of gold- and jewel-encrusted treasures. Further inside, would be the burial chamber of the young Egyptian king Tutankhamun, his body perfectly preserved and his riches untouched by tomb raiders. 

The man was Howard Carter, and on that November day in 1922, he and his team made what is possibly the greatest archeological discovery ever recorded. However, many believe that Carter unearthed more than history and a fortune that day. Shortly after the discovery, Carter’s benefactor and business partner, Lord Carnarvon, died of blood poisoning. Seven others would be dead within a dozen years. Rumors swirled that the Pharaoh’s Curse, a legend warning against disturbing the resting places of Egypt’s ancient rulers, had been unleashed. 

Anyone laying claim to one of the artifacts was susceptible to an untimely death. A warning was even adorned to a golden bracelet, “Cursed be he who moves my body. To him shall come fire, water and pestilence.” The bracelet adorned a mummified hand being used as a paper weight on the desk of famed publisher Sir Bruce Ingram, a friend of Carter. 

Why would you want a human hand as a paper weight? Maybe that’s what my desk is missing …

Fast forward 102 years to the yard of a rural Georgia home. In front of a metal-sided building, a tomb if you will, is a team of people, including myself. We were working the breach the door, but with a simple key, no hammer or sharp object necessary. Was there treasure inside? Maybe to some. But there were no artifacts, just stacks of boxes and bags containing my mother’s Christmas decoration collection. I was helping my parents clean and cipher through the piles for items to donate or throw away.

Among the items to-go was a 3-foot, full color Santa statue. I laid claim to the likeness of Saint Nick. I’ll give him a good home this Christmas season, after Thanksgiving of course. I’m sure it is hex free. 

Carter never put much faith in the alleged curse, though why should he? He wasn’t one of the eight who died. I’m not one to believe in that sort of thing either, but all the same, I’ll stick to cleaning out the shed and leave the grave exploring for someone else. 

You can reach Kyle Dominy at k.l.dominy@gmail.com or write to 115 S. Jefferson St. Dublin, Ga. 31021.