The grave stones are old now. Time has pitted them. The weather has smoothed away their sharp angles. The names they commemorate are obscure lines in the stone, shallow and smudged.
This was the first story I wrote and it owes a lot to the requirements of the Ghost Hack Roleplaying Game it introduces. But I think it stands up as a ghost story for ordinary readers. The imagined setting is the Saatchi Gallery, which hosts the Tutankhamen 'Treasures of the Golden Pharaoh' Exhibition and is just round the corner from King's Road.
I also enjoyed spinning Shelley's famous line into 'look on my works ye mighty and rejoice' when the wealth and grandeur of Tutankhamun long outlives his troubled personal life and early death. Shelley didn't imagine archaeologists would spoil his lovely poem.