In 500 words or less, resolve the following conflict:

You've stumbled upon an ancient tomb. Unfortunately, a monolithic stone wall has closed behind you just as you stepped inside. Will your bones dry next to those already amassed inside the tomb?

‘It won’t work,’ said a mournful voice behind me. I stopped pounding on the door, which was now tightly shut. Turning, I saw a dark shape in the corner. ‘This is a tomb,’ it intoned. It was shrouded and seemed fuzzy at the edges. ‘What is Inside is not meant to get Outside.’ There was a silence. ‘I don’t get many visitors.’ I looked at the pile. It would be a lot more crowded in here if they were in a position to take tea and biscuits. ‘That’s all the visitors I’ve had for five thousand years. The last one was 137 years ago.’ I frowned.
‘Five thousand years?’
‘That’s when I was embalmed. Over there,’ the shape said, waving arm vaguely backwards. ‘Six months later the grave robbers came.’
‘Oh dear,’ I said.
‘That’s them, by your foot.’ By my foot were powdered bones. I jumped to one side.
‘They got caught by the traps.’ I considered jumping again. The problem was knowing which way to go. Suddenly, a hopeful thought occurred to me.
‘If no-one can get out, what do you need traps for?’
‘I like traps,’ said the ghost. ‘They’ve all been sprung though.’ It sounded regretful.
‘How come you speak my language then?’ I asked.
‘How come you speak mine?’ Right. A figment of my imagination? Studying the figure, I was sure I had a better imagination than that.
‘Are there other rooms here?’
‘You wouldn’t like them. They’re dark.’
‘Why isn’t this room dark?’
‘Phosphorescent algae.’
‘Convenient.’
‘Yes, it gives me something to read by. But I don’t have to that. I’ve got you to talk to now.’
‘Well a lot’s happened in the last 137 years,’ I said absently. There had to be a way out of here…
‘I’m not interested in anything that’s going on out there,’ said the ghost scornfully, ‘Hey, what are you doing?’ I was wandering around the edge of the room. ‘Stop it.’ I’d found another doorway.
‘This goes to a room I wouldn’t like?’ I asked.
‘Stay out of there,’ snapped the ghost.
‘If you get me out of this tomb, I promise never to come back.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘I think you can, if you try.’ After all, how did the tomb door come to be ajar? How did it come to close? The air was fresh and there were dry leaves on the floor. It was probably open nearly all the time, except when, like a Venus Fly Trap, it had prey. Wandering in, unsuspecting.

Inside the room was a sarcophagus and several jars. I smiled, picking one up.
‘Put that down,’ the ghost demanded. I jiggled the jar about gently. ‘All right all right, you barbarian, I’ll let you out.’ And it did. But I was careful to take the jar out with me and roll it back in when I was safely outside. This was a ghost that liked traps, after all.