Non-Fiction Short Story Prose for Windsor U - The Divers ' Mummy Curse

My Mummy Doesn’t Love Me: A True Prose Poem About A Diver's Curse. Three Down, Two To Go

By Stephen Weir. November, 20. 2021
I have to ask you something. It is not like you are doing anything anyway is it? Besides, who doesn’t want to talk about hearses and modern day Egyptian death curses?
Look at my back; do you see the tiny monkey? It may seem small but it weighs heavier than the Sphinx. It has been there for a decade and killed four dive buddies in a blink.
Oh, this is the truth, but you’re not feeling brave? Call it a waking nightmare that comes from the wrong side of the grave. All of the deaths were underwater. All caused by a ghostly Egyptian mummy stalker.
We were a crew of five standing in Cairo’s White Desert saddled with cameras, lights, and a pyramid of dive gear. Oh and guess what else? Ten cases of Molson Beer. We were to be the first TV crew to film a death ship deep down in the nearby Red Sea. Our dive boat was late; we had time to explore a pyramid with the tourist bourgeoisie.
This isn’t THE big question but I need your answer, ever been to the base of a pyramid in the high season? No steps. Just a steep ramp where you will drown in an ocean of very large Yankees pushing frenetically both up and down.
Michel our safety diver was so hot and tired he broke a sacred pyramid rule. He climbed into an empty sarcophagus for a nap; Sound like a fool? The tourist police crowded the chamber and one swung a walking stick at my head. He yelled that we were cursed and said we five were already dead.
Running, avoiding the swinging stick now aimed at my heel I escaped the Chamber of the King. I got out with nary a scratch so I figured the Pharaoh’s curse had an inauthentic ring. Fun tales from inside the huge Pyramid of Giza. Back in Cairo, we laughed it off with a beer and a “ Mummy’s Special Pizza”.
We took to our boat and went out into the Red Sea to explore the Salem Express shipwreck. She sank in 1991 filled with Mecca pilgrims trapped below her main deck. 35 metres down, we were about to make scuba TV history inside the ship. The powers that be forgot to mention that the 500 victims were still inside the submerged crypt.
Three days later we finally docked and left the sea. Sick with unwanted dead children memories, the crew ran to the waiting taxi. Except Radar, our local guy who stayed to fix the ship’s prop. Accidents happen, the engine kicked in – I heard the sickening sound when his severed hands drop.
Two years later we lost Michel when his rebreather failed during a Tobermory trip. He was dead before he could be pulled onto the waiting tender ship. At the funeral we three remaining Egyptian divers toasted the two lost men. Dissing the heathen curse we gave a loud loud Christian Amen.
Three years later, our underwater videographer was 100 meters down in Lake Superior filming the Gunilda wreck. His rebreather failed, he didn’t make it back alive onto the dive boat deck.
Three down, two to go, just me and Jim the producer of the Red Sea Show. We’d drifted apart over the years until I got the call that he had just flat lined down below. He had been filming schooling hammerheads at Cocos Island when his gear went to shit. He was brought to the surface; his heart and lungs had quit.
I was about to make the now required toast when the phone rang again and I was told to hold that drink. Jim was barely alive; a doctor had brought him back minutes after his Pacific Ocean sink.
A year later I almost took my own final underwater spree. 35 metres down, five hours out to sea, aggressive Tiger sharks, my missing boat and me. Both Jim and I have escaped the mummy’s beckoning hands. Has that curse of old finally disappeared in the Sahara Sands?
There is where you ALL come in; tell me truthfully do I have to stay out of the sea? Am I going to buy the farm soon or is the rocking chair for me? Jimmy says he died and though he did make it back, he has fulfilled the hex. “Buckle up and be a man, Stevie Boyo, you are next.”
What do you think? Please hurry. This is a true story.




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