An Egyptian Tale of Irony

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Where I came from,
There weren’t many skilled architects such as I, Rhashin.
There was only one other than myself, to be exact.
His name was Lazuir.
He was an arrogant fellow
with a mellow tone and nothing on his mind but greed.
He would stop at nothing to become recognized by royalty
and to have the people of Egypt bowing down at his feet.
The pharaoh sent his servants all around the land
to gather all the skilled laborers that could help build one of the Great Pyramids of Giza.
We were both selected and began constructing the pyramid the next day.
Our feet sizzled as they landed in the hot, burning sand.
Sweat trickled down our faces and the wind stood still.
Just the week before,
gray clouds somewhat shaded us from the sun’s rays.
But at that very moment,
there were no such clouds in sight
making our golden brown skin want to cry out for rain.
I prayed a good prayer that day
and asked my God, Hathor to put me in good spirits as I worked in the blazing heat.
After an hour,
I established the layout of the first level of the pyramid.
I placed the stone that I had mapped the layout on beside a nearby stool.
Other laborers saw the art that I had created and adored me for my idea.
Out of jealousy,
Lazuir pushed me into his secret chamber that he made for the pharaoh.
While looking for a way out,
I fell through a trap door.
The walls began to close in on me and eventually I could feel my bones cracking.
As my body was compressing,
my lungs were collapsing,
leaving no room for breathing.
There was absolutely no escape.
As I waited to take my last breath,
I messily carved these last words in the stone walls,
“Lazuir, I did not deserve this. May this unfortunate event happen to you three times as worse. Once you read this, may I rest in peace.
Signed your friend, Rhashin.”
That marked the end of my days.
I was never seen or heard of for months.
After my disappearance, Lazuir gained all the praise for the level of the pyramid that I created.
Years after the construction of the pyramid was completed,
all of the laborers who worked on the building revisited the site.
Lazuir not remembering where he had built the trap door
fell through.
Unfortunately for him,
poisonous snakes and beetles dashed out from the walls pricking his skin.
As the stone began to cave in.
dust filled his lungs
allowing no one to hear him as he screamed.
As he took one last look at the wall,
he read,
“Once you read this, may I rest in peace.
Signed your friend, Rhashin.”
My spirit has told this tale of irony;
A man’s own need for attention, has killed him.





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