The Cursed Ring

Author: Nahed Ali

And on a day that seemed ordinary like any other, the priest summoned her and assigned her to clean a room untouched by light. A room that seemed like the belly of the earth, with a silence hanging from the ceiling, and emanating the smell of decay and dread, as if it held the breaths of those who entered and never left.
Nawara entered, clutching her rag, as if holding onto a fragile lifeline, and began to work in silence. But the place was heavier than her endurance, so sleep slowly crept into her eyes, and slumber descended upon her eyelids like a thick fog. She sat in a distant corner and surrendered to an eerie stillness.
And when night fell upon the room, almost swallowing her breaths, the priest entered. He began his rituals, and his murmurs rose like voices from the depths of hell, dancing on invisible flames.
The words shattered in the air, intertwined, summoning unseen forces, for he sought to conjure a demon from among the jinn, to be a servant to the Pharaoh, a tool of domination and terror.
As the incantations echoed like a demonic reverberation throughout the room, Nawara suddenly awoke. She opened her eyes to a sight beyond horror, her heart pounding like merciless war drums.