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May 10, 2009

Pharoah Statuette


He was Egyptian, in the traditional pose and garb of a pharaoh or god. One hand held a staff, while the other was extended as though beckoning the faithful to his feet.

Who in the gods’ name is this?

My heart, which refused to pick up a steady rhythm since the first contact with the statue, pounded in my chest. My mind whirred.

Egyptology was my favorite subject years ago in school. I had studied the myths and legends, gods and goddesses and I watched television specials, read every magazine article. But I’ve never seen this man. I picked up the ivory statuette, turning it in my hands, stroking the man’s form and looking for a cartouche or indicating mark to tell me whose representation I held.

No name, no dynasty. Not one single indicating mark on the statue.
“Who are you?”

He did not answer, and I didn’t expect him to—mystical happenings were just that, mystical, and the supernatural was something I had yet to experience in this lifetime. I shrugged and then dumped the remaining packaging material into the garbage. I wrapped the idol in my fingers, and the ivory warmed to my touch.

Cradling my newly arrived treasure to my chest, I climbed the stairs to my bedroom.
A pile of discarded shoes cluttered the floor beside the door jamb. I skirted it and instead picked up a T-shirt dangling from the lid of my hamper in the bathroom, and stuffed it back in. Shoes were a necessity, crumpled laundry was not.

A breeze billowed my sheer linen curtains. Moonlight lay on the patchwork quilt, and left the rest of the room to shadows. The air was fragrant with lavender and cool as the breeze caressed my skin, just the way I like it. My radio, however, heralded doom. The little Sony sat on the nightstand and blasphemed about a coming heat wave, and the sweltering grip it would take on the city.
I hate hot weather.
I silenced the electronic harbinger, switched the setting to Alarm and shoved the clock radio back to make room for my Egyptian statue.

The statue was a mystery, but he made an excellent addition to my already Egyptianesque d├ęcor. His ivory blended well with my eggshell walls, the aged look made him appear all the warmer and more appealing. He stood, plinth slightly at an angle so that he was facing my bed. The staff he held now pointed directly into the moon outside my window, and his hand pointed at the center of my bed. Satisfied with his placement, I stripped off clothes as I walked through the room and into the adjacent bath. Then showered and in my nightgown, I climbed into bed beneath the gaze of the newcomer to my life.

A sigh escaped me and my eyes slipped closed.
“See you in my dreams.”






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The Image above was not created by the author at moonsdesignslive.com



2 comments:

mjlmk said...

How awesome (:
You should come up with your own, mystical name for him!!
<3
~ The Naked Mingler

kathi said...

:: runs to catchup and mingle ::

What a cool image and story! I was just talking with friends (and blogging, too) about possibly making a trip to the King Tut exhibit that comes to Indianapolis starting late next month.