59. Love and Death in Tamir
The whispers of the scary forest faded behind Rosella as she came out the other side safe and sound with a little help
from the threatening axe she acquired from the ogre’s cottage. A few yards ahead the wary princess could see the
silhouettes of the headstones in the cemetery under the pale glow of the watchful moon. Some of them were rounded
and hunched like great shoulders; others were flat like the top of a neck where a head has been severed. The frogs
and the crickets made their atmospheric music unaware or unafraid of the death that lay beneath the broken earth just
waiting for a warm and foolish ankle to happen by. Rosella shivered and pull her skirt around her tighter at the thought
of the rotting fingers of the zombies touching her pale skin. A sigh of reassurance allowed her to recall the ornate black
scarab that adorned her neck. The jagged rusty chain from which it hung chaffed the skin of Rosella’s slender neck and
delicate collarbone as it continued to make her stomach turn from nausea. Ladylike or not, she would vomit soon from
the dark magic she realized, long fingers holding her belly.
The imminent fear of sickness superceded her fear of what lie beneath the many headstones of Tamir’s cemetery, and
the intrepid princess made her way through the tall grass leading up to the unkempt grounds. Her heels were met with
uneven ground, nose with earth that smelled of rot. Rosella was a dainty girl by all means and this was almost more
than her senses could bear. One hand fanned the air in front of her face, while the other clutched at her cramping
belly, enduring the trials like a good little heroine. But a new sound borrowed her courage with no intention of giving it
back. It was a shambling, a crackle, and the sound of earth breaking up from big pieces into little crumbs. With her
courage out on leave, Rosella let out a whimper along the lines of “please no.” Her spine went rigid and the muscles in
her arms in legs tightened with cramp. She dipped her face down ever so slightly to see decaying hands reaching up
from the earth around her ankles. The putrid skin did its best to dangle on to the hands, but mostly the browning tips of
the finger bones were poking through the dead flesh. The contrast was alarming to the pristine sheer white nylon fabric
that coated the princess’s delicate little ankles. The hands were just “dying” to see how soft they really were!
While Rosella foolishly stood frozen in fear, she failed to notice that a circle of moaning death had surrounded her.
There were nearly a dozen zombies moving in on her with sightless yellow eyes, slack falling jaws, and blood curdling
groans. Rosella let out a choked sob as she realized her impending doom. The hands coming from the ground around
her would shred her frail white stockings with ease to get to the flesh underneath, while the other zombies would pull at
her long blonde hair and drag her into the earth to a very untimely end. Squinting her eyes while cringing to brace
herself against the seeking claws, Rosella waited. But nothing scratched at her ankles and nothing tugged at her
flowing hair. Nothing touched her at all. The overflowing adrenaline that forced her eyes shut impossibly tight passed
when the anticipated assault seemingly never came. Her big blue eyes opened slowly with a squint, her body’s muscles
releasing the cringing stance in tandem.
A sudden flood of confusion drowned the fear that was dominating Rosella’s body. All the zombies were recoiling from
the slender and decidedly non-intimidating princess. Even the claw-like rotten hands had retracted back within the earth
at her feet. The zombies groaned and hissed as the fled as far as they could from Rosella’s body in the confines of the
cemetery imprisonment. The scarab was… working! The young girl had little time to celebrate. On cue, she doubled
over and gagged from the pulsating power of the dark amulet. After a few moments of crippling pain, Rosella was able
to right herself and take back her borrowed courage. While the mere sight of the zombies made her shiver with
revulsion, she felt safe enough with the scarab’s proven protection to take measured steps through the graveyard
toward the mummy’s crypt.
The Mummy's Crypt