Flashes of Inspiration

Another Christmas Story

"The work is on a level we've never seen," Ed continued forcefully. "Just the stone reliefs themselves are as exact as a photo, like they were cut with a C&C machine, for crying out loud!"

"Professor Baker, please." The head of the department committee looked over his glasses at Ed. "You've made your case, and we've decided: the university does not have the funds, nor will allocate the funds, to continue research at Seathuthu. Your findings and recommendations have been noted." The man looked down and closed a folder. "Now. I believe the matter is closed, and this meeting is over, Professor."

The others on the committee looked embarrassed as they shuffled out of the room, leaving Ed standing at the near the whiteboard, alone but not defeated. He knew what he was going to do, and he knew he could lose his tenure if he did. For that matter, he thought as he unlocked his car, I could get arrested for it! Without even realizing it— or being helpless to do otherwise, perhaps— Ed had decided he would continue the dig at Seathuthu himself.

For the next six weeks, he taught class in the early morning and took the brutal two-hour trip to the site and studies the carvings and inscriptions there, certain that he was on the edge of a breakthrough. Finally, two days before Christmas, he cracked the code of the ancient scrolls he had found in the vaults of this forgotten city. He took a picture of the main inscription along the front of a great cauldron in what must have been a throne room.

Back at the hotel, he deciphered it, his tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration. Finally, he read it back:

Be. Sure. To. Drink. Your Ovaltine.

"Son of a— !"

NOTES: ▶︎

Word Count: 300
Submitted for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Use the words work, photo, car