Good Example Of Diary Of An Egyptian Creative Writing

Dear Papyrus Roll,

Today was a particularly hard difficult and confusing day. Work on the new pyramid was halted. Our Pharaoh Tutankhamun has died. The year is only 1323 BC; it seems as though he has just taken power. Alas he is with the gods now.
I must confess, Papyrus Roll, this is the first body I have ever helped mummify. While I am, of course, acquainted with our Egyptian customs of embalming a body, encasing the organs in ornate jars, stuffing the tomb full of the Pharaoh’s most prized possessions, and even killing his cats so that they too may join him in the afterlife, I must admit my stomach is weak . The sight of his dead form was enough to make me cringe.
Most irritatingly, I was hardly given any help with the mummification due to other appointed workers being too overcome with grief to help. Bes, God of Humor is with me; those ungrateful fools did nothing but complain of Pharaoh’s desires throughout his entire supremacy . Be their grief as it may, I was still forced to do most of the work on my own.
Lifting the body from his appointed coffin to the mummification table was easy enough; I managed to pretend he was my sleeping father. I used to raise him from his floor to his bed after he would come home from toiling in the pyramids. Typically, he would have had too many libations and, being of old body and weak constitution, he would pass out quite easily.
After Pharaoh was placed on the table however, oh Papyrus Roll, my stomach began to turn. Continually I begged Nephthys to bring my comfort as I transitioned from seeing Pharaoh alive, to seeing him dead . I later realized, however, as I pulled Pharaoh’s brains through his nose, removed his internal organs through an incision in his lower left abdominal cavity, and waited while they dried, that perhaps Nephthys only brings comfort to those who have died, not those left behind . Still, the process was profoundly disgusting.
After the organs had dried, I was able to steel myself long enough to place all but the heart in the ornate jars reserved for this very occasion. My so-called cohorts continued mourning by getting drunk and laughing at the reeds blowing in the wind, insinuating they looked like a certain part of the male anatomy. The heart I placed haphazardly back in Pharaoh’s body.
I must confess, Papyrus, that I am aware I am supposed to rinse the body clean with oils and spices, but I had had my fill of gore for the day. I could feel my stomach coming back up on me, and knew I would have no help from my appointed assistants. Still, because I like giving Bes a laugh, I requested my assistants fulfill the task, but found they were passed out, much like my father after a long day of difficult work. I found this scene to be far less honorable, admittedly, seeing as they had done nothing more difficult than pour themselves several glasses. If royalty ever reads this I will be executed I am certain, but I cannot keep a secret. I must tell somebody before I overflow upon the wrong ears. I DID NOT RINSE PHAROAH’S BODY IN THE ANNOINTED OILS AND SPICES! I know! I am ashamed. Pharaoh rose every morning with Ra to oversee us, ensure our safety and prosperity. I could not even cleanse the inside of his body with my bare hands.
I was able, however, to cover his corpse with salt. I had to drink the leftover libations my assistants left behind in order to touch his body again. By that time, the high sun had passed, and the body had begun to smell strangely. I wondered if the oils and spices would have prevented this, but did not have the patience or will to see if it would change anything.
Pharaoh’s body will stay covered in salt, uncleansed on the inside, with his heart admittedly inserted upside down (I performed this action with my eyes closed, Papyrus, please do not judge me), for the next seventy days and nights . In forty days’ time, I have been tasked with stuffing Pharaoh’s body with sand. I must stuff it full so that he maintains his human form now and in the afterlife . Unsurprisingly, I am dreading this. When the full seventy days are up, we will wrap Pharaoh from head to toe in bandages, completing the mummifying process. He will be shoved into his sarcophagus, and buried in his tomb with his wealth, as well as his cats, free to live as he had always hoped among the gods.
Fortunately, I was not tasked with mummifying, or killing all of his pets. I do not envy the individual who was. As I write this, I partake in more libations. My family believes I am mourning the loss of Pharaoh but truthfully I am only trying to forget being wrist deep in his stomach, pulling out intestines, shoving them into jarsit made me wonder what all of this was worth.
Pharaoh had died. It is sad. He gets a grand send off and a tomb full of gold. When I die, perhaps my body will be left on the side of the road. Perhaps I will die in my home and nobody will care to notice until I have turned back into dust; there will not be anything to notice then. I wonder if the gods are even real, Papyrus Roll. I wonder if I pray hard enough, if Pharaoh will give me a sign.
I must sleep now. Building resumes tomorrow.

Works Cited

Bard, Kathryn A. An Introduction to the Archaeology of Ancient Egypt. Chicago: John Wiley & Sons, 2015. Book.
Pemberton, Delia. The Civilization of Ancient Egypt. London: The Rosen Publishing Group, 2013. Book.
Watterson, Barbara. Gods of Ancient Egypt . Boston: The History Press, 2013. Book.