Types of Prose Narratives: A Text-Book for the Story WriterFansler, Harriott Ely
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Types of Prose Narratives: A Text-Book for the Story Writer
Fansler, Harriott Ely
English prose literature; Storytelling
The men had gone to their camp as usual, but Dr. Aukirt remained
behind. During the day an interesting inscription had been uncovered,
and the moon shone in among the pillars of Karnac before the explorer
thought of leaving the scene of the day's work. As he turned to go,
he noticed a slight movement at his feet, and stopped. A tiny stream
of sand was sliding slowly into a crevice between two stones in the
pavement, and was disappearing beneath him. He seized a pick and at
length was able to dislodge the block. A flight of steps led down
into the darkness. He soon stood at the foot of the stairway with the
wealth of his discovery about him. The light from his pocket lamp was
reflected from the thousands of silver points in the ceiling of _lapis
lazuli_ and from the porphyry pillars with their exquisite capitals
of lotus leaves. Under a frieze of small windows was a divan with the
imprint of a head so plainly visible in the draperies that it seemed as
though the sleeper must have but just arisen, but the fabric crumbled
to dust under the Doctor's hand.
At the other side of the room was a table, evidently a student's desk,
with a litter of writing materials and curious instruments. Across
an unfinished papyrus lay a brass tube with a lens at each end. Dr.
Aukirt picked up the strange telescope and instinctively applied it
to his eye, although he was convinced that he should be unable to see
anything, for the body of the glass was a double curve, like a much
elongated S. But as he pointed the lens toward the divan, a priestly
figure seemed to be sleeping there, and this room brightened, light
streamed in through the windows which had been hidden by the sand of
hundreds of years. The Doctor looked up; everything was dusty and
deserted.
When he reached the open air again, he saw that the sun was rising away
at the rim of the desert; and once more he looked through the new-found
spy-glass. The surface of the Nile that had been so peaceful a moment
ago, was aswarm with boats. Figures of dusky slaves with sad Hebraic
features passed and repassed with their burdens. He turned to the ruin
which he had just left, and beheld a stately temple with the sunbeams
flashing from its carved and polished façade.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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