A Queen's Complexion

"Please, you must return the necklace.” Begged the voice on the phone.

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Makalani, I just stepped out of the shower, I’ve been itching all day, I am in no mood for begging.” She scratched at her arm.

“You don’t understand, the hieroglyphs suggest a curse,” he insisted. “The necklace is only meant to reflect the queen’s beauty.”

“I don’t have time for fairytales.” She hung up, still scratching her arm. She looked down and shrieked.

Her arm was dried, decayed, and scratched to the bone. The true horror though, came from her reflection in the mirror.