Author: Sthitee Mohanty
Ah… I had hoped that it wouldn’t catch your attention. Sure, the curator placed it in the center, its central spike superimposed over the central pillar of the exhibition room.
It’s a cursed item, you see. Not cursed in your skin rots off and falls if you touch it way, but cursed like this brought great ruin to my family way. So you don’t really need to worry about the curse. Unless you’re like royalty or something.
Right. The item. You can read the neat little placard underneath it. Tells you all about the item. Belonged to Queen yada yada from blah dynasty… whatever right?
Why are you even in a museum now, looking through dusty exhibits? I am here because of necessity and this pesky thing called duty – a duty passed down through blood. I’m a ghost. Of course, I am.
I am a ghostly little voice whispering into your ears as you stare at a crown with four cut, polished gems. Boo.
It doesn’t matter if you take your headphones off and shake your head. It’s not like I’m haunting you. I’m … just hanging around.
Back to the crown. It’s pretty, right? Metal twisted around stones, a flickering beauty if the light hits it right. Crane your head a little, just a bit more, and you can see the inscription inside. You won’t be able to read the language – let me tell you what it says.
Bearer of kings. Fun, right? Very patriarchal. Oh, you’re asking why? The king gave it to his queen, of course. To celebrate the birth of their four sons.
Poor woman. To have gone through countless medical scares and unpleasant beddings, only to get four very cold stones in return.
Oh, you want to know more about the sons? You don’t?
Too bad. Get ready for a history lesson right now. You’re stuck with me now – close your eyes and walk where I want you to.
I dare you.
