Rameses had promised his favourite concubines that he wouldn’t bury them alive upon his demise, but apparently that had been a catacomb-sized lie.
‘Well that’s just great,’ wailed Hehet over his mummified corpse. ‘What now?’
Ngozi began to angrily carve at the stone walls. ‘Now we make shit up and screw with future historians.’
Written for: Twittering Tales
As an immortal it was necessary to fake one’s own death once in a while. It wouldn’t do to live suspiciously long or be the last man at the party. As such his latest manifestation, Raymond Brinegeld, sleazy lawyer and hopeless gambler, had to go.
He left ample clues as to the cause of his demise – bank statements denoting desperation and a pyramid of addiction. The dog bowl filled with vodka was a nice touch.
Far away in a fortress filled with priceless antiquities dating back to the dawn of time he selected a new identity and strode forth, unblemished once more, into the world.
Written for: Friday Fictioneers