This story was written for submission to Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine in 1992. The Mysterious Photograph showed a man on the steps of a pyramid wiping his head with a kerchief.

The Vacation

The heat of the desert air rushed across my brow, raced down my back, and grasped me in its searing grip. I gasped from the suddenness of it, and dizzily leaned against the huge blocks that made up the pyramid's entry to its vast secrets. I wiped away the minute rivers of sweat, and chuckled soundlessly to myself, as if a madman. Mad, no! Quite, quite sane, and now quite, quite rich. I savored the heat, embraced it, and let my mind wander to the beginnings of this, my greatest adventure.

Chancing upon the advert while strolling down High Street, the possibilities had presented themselves to my mind. Not all at once, oh no! but piece by beautiful piece over the days; while serving my mum's afternoon tea, she, along with all her white-haired friends, tittering insanely at who knows what inanity, while driving her to the theater, while signing for all her deliveries of art and designer clothing, until at last they formed into a delicious whole. It was troubling, at first, withdrawing the final sums from the grand old bank, reducing my already pitiful balance to nothingness. Buying the tickets, and convincing the doddering witch of my heartfelt devotion, and my fervent wish to treat her to a grand holiday, just the two of us... 

My, but this heat is dastardly! Not at all like the cool depths of the pyramid, where even great exertion brought little more than the tiniest beads of sweat. I absently tuck the twisted cord into my summer-weight pants; then once more wipe my neck and face with my linen kerchief, tidily fold it into a jaunty shape, and arrange it in my breast pocket. I brush the clinging sand from my trousers, and, chuckling my soundless mirth once again, I resume my ascent toward the desert sands. "How quite fitting", I think... "after all, what better place to bury your mummy?"

Copyright 1992, J Montgomery