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Mysteriously Moving Statue Caught on Time-Lapse Video

An ancient Egyptian statue has frightened and confused museum workers – after it mysteriously started to spin round in a display case. But in recent weeks, curators have been left scratching their heads after they kept finding it facing the wrong way.  Experts decided to monitor the room on time-lapse video and were astonished to see it clearly show the statuette spinning 180 degrees – with nobody going near it.

The 10-inch tall relic, which dates back to 1800 BC, was found in a mummy’s tomb and has been at the Manchester Museum for 80 years.The statue of a man named Neb-Senu is seen to remain still at night but slowly rotate round during the day.There is currently no known explanation as to why the statue is moving. A true mystery.

Dissociation

Who am I?

I am but a body, a corpse, lying here, but not present. I am a shell, my body is frozen in place, glued to the bed. My body is stone, a statue, unable to move itself. I can’t move my body except to breathe and utter the occasional word absentmindedly.

The inside of me is light, trying to escape. It is banging against the walls of my brain, begging and pleading to be let out, to do something. It is fighting to stay alive, but to no avail. It cannot get out. It cannot emerge from my unmoving body.

My eyes are unblinking. They are staring at a spot on the window in my bedroom, a slit between the bottom of the blinds and the windowsill. Why I have chosen this place, I don’t know. My mind is still fighting to look away, to blink, to get up and get a glass of water. I cannot stop staring at the spot. I am still stuck. Each time I try to look away, I get irritated. I must watch the spot. I have to watch the spot. I can’t not stare at the spot without feeling panic in my very core. The spot blurs as my vision goes out of focus, and then comes back. My eyes hurt from staring so long.

My hand is tingling. I think it has fallen asleep. Then I realize that it is not a part of my body. I am watching it move and twist with curiosity and fascination because it’s moving beyond my control. It is not attached to my arm. My elbow is the last thing I feel, from there on my arm is a robot. It is beyond my control, but it is moving in a way I am thinking it will. How curious. It is moving in a way I would move it if it were attached to me, maybe it’s reading my mind. At any moment, my mechanical arm may fall off. My room is dark, and the robot’s hand is a mere silhouette against the street lamp’s light seeping in through the cracks in my blinds.

Suddenly, the hand drops onto the mattress, making a soft thump as it hits the cool sheets. I am back to staring at the spot. How did I look away from it in the first place? I don’t remember. I can’t keep track of the time. It feels like twenty minutes, and it feels like twenty hours.

I switch between the spot and my hand, unable to think or focus on anything else. Unable to break my mind, still struggling to be set free, away from my mechanical arm or the spot on the window. I hear noises, the sound of breathing and talking, vaguely. I can’t focus on them. They are comforting, but I can’t hear what’s going on.

I am empty.

Who am I?