Hi. I'm Vereo Ming, second year college student. Fun? Yes. Easy? Not so much. When I applied for class, I didn't think it would mean falling in love with a living, breathing, four-thousand year old Pharaoh.

Welcome to my World

"Vampires suck." I said out loud, staring at the computer screen in front of me.

Of all the topics in folklore and mythology, I just had to get stuck with vampires. Ugh. It's 8:30; and the library is going to close in a few minutes. That's bad. Even worse, since that damn history paper I've been working on for the past three days deleted itself. Technology hates me. It freaking hatesme.

"Sorry, Vereo, but the library is closing." Mrs. Van Russell, the Librarian, walked coolly over to me, her blonde tresses in a neat bun. Not a single hair misplaced.

"I know, but can I just say in for a few more minutes? I'll lock up after-"

"I can't do that." The Librarian said, while adjusting her thick-framed glasses. "That goes against our whole policy."

"I'm a history major, for God's sake!" I placed a tired hand to my forehead, in near defeat, looking over the small windows of doubt etched into the librarian's face. "I'll be doomed to a life of flipping burgers if I fail this."

"I'll tell you what. I can give the keys to the security guard outside. When you're finished, just tell him to lock up." She smiled at me, and I grinned back gratefully.

"Thanks. This means the world to me." I continued to type, adding a word, and subtracting another word.

"I'll see you tomorrow then." The librarian walked off, her purse in hand, out through the far doors of the large library. Now I'm left sitting here on the first floor, facing my laptop, hunched on an uncomfortable plastic chair inside a library so bigthat it makes Vatican City look like a convenient store.

I stare up at the dome ceiling, the glass panels painted black with the darkness of the night. The four floors circle around, all connected by four long stair cases, each at one point of the compass. There's an elevator somewhere back there, but only few bodies bother to use it. Something as great as this place practically begs to be looked at in its full and wondrous glory.

Floor two of the library serves as a part-time display, for whatever department has the spare money to spend on educating the masses; whether it's the Geography Department with their rare rock samples, or the Biology Department with their dead things floating in jars. But right now, it's the Egyptology Department that has me interested. Currently, a sarcophagus is on display. It's a coffin from a king that lived in the Eighteenth Dynasty who died during an invasion. Sure, it's not half as famous as King Tut's coffin, but there is a body in there. Somewhere behind that big stone sarcophagus is a figure that lived thousands of years ago. That king lived though one of the most important times in human history- Ancient Egypt.

I so have to check this out.

Leaning forward, I turn off my laptop, and stuff it into my knapsack. I sling my backpack on and stick the portable USB drive the pocket of my sweat pants, hurriedly jogging down the row of computers, and approach the stars. One by one I climb, trying to ignore the long way down. Finally on the second floor, I huff, out of breath.

What can I say? I'm not exactly the most active person in the world, even more so since that 'freshman fifteen' came packing on last year.

Moving forward, I enter deeper into the second floor, amazed at the ancient decor that the department so artfully created. If it weren't for the fake lighting, the carpet, and the information plaques, it would feel almost real.

It looks like one long hallway; the ceiling is still high. Like a mini museum. Vases on pedestals encased by glass and surrounded by velvet ropes, and display cases along the wall with tiny trinkets of little glass beads and broken wine bottles. But all that doesn't matter. I've reached the end of the exhibit; and there's my prize. The Sarcophagus of Pharaoh-...

Looking down at the information plaque...

Pharaoh Thuth-Ahksetrahmun. Now that's a mouthful. But it says here that the researchers called him Ramun; or Ra for short, after a God in the Egyptian pantheon.

There's nothing blocking the plain, grey Sarcophagus except a thin velvet rope. King Tut's resting coffin was a bit more pimping. It had jewels coming off the derriere.

But there's something, almost humbling, about this one. With the small spotlight shining on it from above, it looks like a stage prop. Too undamaged, too perfect to be from the distant past. Too smooth; too generic. Yet stunningly beautiful at the same time. I wonder who's in there. Besides the name. I wonder. Did he have a family? Yes. The plaque says he had one half brother, plus six other siblings. How old was he when he died? The estimation is mid twenty. Pets? A mummified Gazelle was found in the tomb. Oh. It's on display too; a mummified Gazelle body standing upright in a long glass case, there on the right.

"I wish..." I said out loud. No one can hear me now. The security guard is downstairs. He knows that nobody bothers to come up here this late. "Oh God. I'm talking to someone who's been dead for the past four thousand years."

Laughing to myself, I step under the velvet rope, placing my hands on the cool, smooth stone.

"They don't even take security precautions with you. Do you, beautiful thing, really mean that little to them?" I say, staring into the carved stone face of the Sarcophagus. "You're not the only dead thing I've talked to. I did the exact same thing with a frog in formaldehyde during the biology exhibit."

The sarcophagus didn't laugh. Of course it didn't. It's made of freaking stone.

"So, Pharaoh, the plaque said that there's a curse on this. Didn't specify whatkind of curse, mind you, but I guess all those Egyptian tombs had curses placed on them anyways."

"Not all, only some, but that is rather trivial, do you think not?" Said the Sarcophagus in a hollow, closed-in tone.


"I'm going crazy. I'm going freaking crazy!" I move back, and tip over the velvet ropes. "Or you could be stuck in there. Oh crap, oh crap!"

Great. Just my freaking luck. Some wasted freshman thinks it's funny to desecrate a poor man's coffin.

"Just wait until the administration gets a hold of you!" I yell at the coffin, walking away.

"They already know I'm here." Said the voice from inside.

That's a strange thing for someone to say.

"What's your damn name?"

"Pharaoh Thuth-Ahksetrahmun of Egypt, son of Pharaoh Thuth-Ahksetrah." The voice seemed to beckon. "This chamber is air-locked. If I was to be alive, I would need air, would I not?"

"Oh shit!" I sprang forward, pushing on the stone lid. "I'll get you out!"

I don't care if he's crazy. All I care about is if this jackass lives or not. And I'm not a biochemist, but last time I checked people need air to breathe. Slowly, the stone lid budged. One millimeter.

"I can't." I stopped, weighing my options. I can call 911! My cell is dead. Shit. Emergency button? We don't have any up here. The security guard! But then it could be too late.

"Push from the bottom of the cask." The voice said in a cool manner.

I moved down to the end of the sarcophagus, and gave the lid a push. The entire lid shifted, opening like one of those cell phones with a sliding keypad. I'm looking into a Sarcophagus with a knot in my stomach, expecting to see a bored, intoxicated twenty-year-old on top of a priceless artifact of history. Instead, lying down in the coffin, with the calmest face in the world, is a young man with a golden crook and flail in each hand, a sun-kissed tan, and some kind of sheer robe that has the most brilliant hue of blue that I have ever seen. He's wearing a blue-coloured hat of some kind. That war crown we learned about. What was it called? Oh, yes. A Khepresh. Worn by Pharaohs who have gone to battle.

Battle. Didn't he die in a battle? Oh my Jesus. The figure sat up, placing his crook and flail down, stretching, breathing in the air.

"Hell, it's like Night at the Museum on steroids." I thought back to a movie I watched many years prior. "Who...are you?"

The man seemed to look annoyed.

"I am Pharaoh Thuth-Ahksetrahmun of Egypt, son of Pharaoh Thuth-Ahksetrah."

"Yes. Alright, alright." I wiped my brow, assessing the situation. "Do you know where you are? Do you know what year it is?"

Of course. He's speaking English. This has to be some kind of trick! I just know it. Funny, just funny. Everyone thinks it's just sohilarious to scare the shit out of the history geek.

"I know. I am at a library. I believe that it is century the 21st." He said with a grin, as he swung his legs over the side of the sarcophagus and hopped out. He's wearing one of those ancient man-skirts with a heavy gold belt, laden with blue lapis stones and rubies. His raven black hair is probably cropped short under the hat, but little curls are sticking out. Not the typical Ancient Egyptian hair style, but hey, he's not a Pharaoh. Just a bored boy…um, man, who happened to be locked in an empty coffin. Yes, that must be it!

"Ha, ha. Hay-larious. Just hilarious." I shook my head slowly from side to side. "If you're so ancient, then how can you speak English?"

"The God's have graced me with the language of this foreign world." He looked around, and smiled once more, his hazel eyes darting around the room. "They said I would be born again, but I would have never imagined this."

He has some sort of slight foreign accent that I just can't place. Sounds a little French, or Greek, but what the hell do I know.

"Whatever." I sighed. "Let's pretend that I believe you. There are many imposters out in the world. Prove to me that you are the Pharaoh."

"I am the Pharaoh." He said.

"Then prove it." I couldn't help but smile in triumph.

He reached back into the coffin, pulling out the golden crook; a long stick-like object with a hook at the end. He then turned towards the mummified Gazelle in the glass case. Its face is all twisted and worn; its body is thin and dried. Pretty much like a road-kill deer that got freeze dried, buried, unburied, and got a stick shoved through its abdomen so it would be able to stand upright. Pointing the crook towards the glass case, he begins to utter simple, exotic words in a language long forgotten.

He then ceased, and slowly, the dead body and bandages of the Gazelle seem to absorb an invisible liquid, and, like a sponge, take on a new shape. The cartilage and tendons of the animal are forming. The brown skin appears over the flesh and muscle of the creature, the crumbling bandages giving way to new life. The body is taking on movement as the rest of the skin is still forming. The neck is quivering slightly, and the eyes are glistening black and blinking with the fire of, what seems to be, curiosity. As abruptly as the transformation began, it ceases; and in the place of a dried corpse is now a living being, deer-like animal, with horns and all.

"Come, my pet!" Mote the Pharaoh, a smile on his sun-kissed lips.

The Gazelle turns its head, to find only the glass. Its eyes flash brightly, and in one swift motion, it bucks its rear legs and the case shatters, sending glittering glass shards all over the exhibit. I drop to the ground and cover my head, as the Gazelle kicks and bucks wildly upon its pedestal, the sharp sounds of the glass mimicking the echo of bullets from a Smith and Wesson.

The near deafening noise comes to a halt, the animal jumping off of its modern throne to greet its master. I stand up, body shaking, watching the long-legged animal bow low before the Pharaoh, and the Pharaoh rubbing the animal's head with an outstretched palm.

This has to be a dream. Real life is never, everthis interesting. Never, ever this surprising.

"Okay." I collect my thoughts, a million questions running through my mind. "So." I took in a deep breath. "You're a Pharaoh…"

Xoxo End of Chapter One oxoX

I actually got around to completing this story! This is a re-post of a similar story I had on here ages ago. I will update once per week (on either Wednesday or Friday). There will be more than ten chapters, some longer and some shorter than others. Keep in mind, this is a action/supernatural/romance story, and there will be a certain degree of fluff in later chapters.

Love it, hate it? Please, leave a review. All comments are moderated.

With all due respects,

Victorian Conspiracy