Globe

The globe was spinning round, faster than comprehension, trajectory slowing down until it came to a shuddering stop. The room was dark and musty, the man hunched over the globe rubbing his hands and laughing gleefully. The room was dim, the only light, casting long shadows over the objects in the room, sucking out all the darkness was from the torch in his hand. It shone upon the earth, a sun open a planet. The globe stopped spinning, a long, crooked, wrinkled finger stretch out, and tapped a spot on the globe that had just come to a halt. It tipped a little, a shudder, evil coming at it from every direction. Somewhere in Egypt, a foreboding of ill crossed the hearts of every resident. A pyramid trembled, shaking off dust, waking up to the reality that even with the pharaohs buried, the Book of Dead hidden and buried under the many winding tunnels in the great triangular obelisk, evil still roamed the earth, made it a playground for mischief, and all those thoughts that came bumping in the night. An archaeologist, examining rocks at a sight nearby saw the dust being shaken off, and rubbed his eyes in bewilderment, magnifying glass dropping from his hands. The laborers, sweat dripping from their bare backs, locals uncaring whether they were clothed or shirtless, also saw it. They too had questions, but soon enough, the dust settled, and like all the minds of weak men, they convinced themselves that they had been deluded, rather than being strong in their convictions.

A few months later, a plane landed in Egypt, and an odd passenger stepped out, or rather was strolled out. On a wheelchair, by a smiling lady believed to be his daughter, indeed the papers claimed it was so. His condition had deteriorated, but such was the case every few centuries, then he would find his way back to the pit, and all would be fine for a few more. She brought him out, his constitution did not seem to be of the strongest nature, it was the worst heat Egypt had seen in decades, and officials were worried about the poor old man. They expedited the process, and along with warnings out of concern, armed him and his daughter with caps and maps and water bottles and instructions. He had wanted to see the pyramids before he died.

That day, a fire lit up in the Western Desert, huge, rising fast to the heights hardly believed, another pyramid, except for the fact that this one glowing red and dancing cheerily by its light. It fast spread through the desert burning through sand as if it were old timber. Oddly enough, it had no smell. Locals swore they saw a figure tall as the devil himself, laughing in the shadows of the flames. Hunched over, and then standing tall, a staff in his hand, three spikes on it, two horns on his head. Locals swore by it, until they too would be consumed by the fire, which ran faster than humans could. That same day, the obese lady with the headscarf turned off the television and came out of the room for the guards when she saw the man hurrying towards his flight. Glad he had taken her advice, she smiled. Something felt odd. She too would be consumed by the fire that would come to be known only as The Fire, a unique and matchless thing. No river would hold it, it would feed on them just as easily as it burnt through wooden bridges. The entire country was consumed.

The globe was spinning round, faster than comprehension, trajectory slowing down until it came to a shuddering stop. The room was dark and musty, the man hunched over the globe rubbing his hands and laughing gleefully. The room was bright, a new bulb had recently been fitted in. it was bright, yet there were shadows impossibly dark and tall dancing around the room. The man stood tall, and removed a mask from his face.