Prologue
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Under the silver light, it was cold in the desert. Hundreds of miles she had traveled in search of an oasis and was overcome with satisfaction at the sight of the still date palms. Below her bare feet were cool grains of shimmering sand that slid between her toes. Her eyes, burning with the life inside her soul, gazed upon the clearest of full moons she'd ever witnessed in so long. Too long. In her path, she stopped her steps. She stood as still and firm as the palm trees. Everything was just right. With the moon dangling from an invisible rope so majestically, illuminating the deep indigo sky, she whipped her thin arms upward and inhaled immensely. Suddenly, she pounced into the air, shooting up like a rocket. The desert air pushed at her loose dancing red ringlets of hair. Into the heavens she soared. She began to move eastward, in the direction of the mighty Nile River. Land below her rushed and blurred into mixed shapes and colors. Soon enough, she was passing over the Nile with a glamorous reflection of silver light. Nothing could come close to the thrill of flight.
Like a stone, she allowed gravity to yank her from above. The rush of air thrusting against her made goose bumps surge and rise all over her flesh as pale as the moon. She used her preternatural powers to slow the descent until she had felt sand under her pointed toes. Gracefully, she placed both feet on the ground, spun around, and headed west. Finally, after many nights of travel, she had reached the bank of the upper Nile. She came across a great stone slab in the sand that lie precisely on the Tropic of Cancer. Next to the slab, she fell to her knees. With strength no mortal could achieve, she shoved the slab over. Before her was a long curving stairwell. It was absolutely too narrow and much too compact for any mortal to wander. In a feline motion, she stepped down into the darkness. She stopped to force the slab back over her head, then continued into the depths.
A savannah stretched out farther than the eye could see along the Nile River. It was lush and green, dotted by small tents made of animal hide. One tent was heavily surrounded by villagers of bronze skin in linens. Slowly, a very tall, prominent man exited the tent with a broad frown across his bronzed face. The villagers slouched in disappointment. Then, the man raised his voice, announcing something in a foreign tongue. His voice was rough and deep erupting from his lips.
From the tent, an older man came out with a swaddled baby in each arm. The taller man was handed the baby of fare skin, raised her high, and hollered “Isis.” The crowd rejoiced in cheers and applause. Wirily, they traded babies. He raised the baby of black skin and hollered, “Kamisi.” Once more, the crowd rejoiced in delight that the twins of Nomti had been born. Suddenly, breaking the excitement of the villagers, a very old man marched through the crowd supported by a cane. A hush came over the crowd. The decrepit man sauntered up to Nomti and proclaimed a prophecy in a calm voice. Nomti’s eyes grew wide with rage at what this prophet had foretold. The whole village gaped at this scene. Nomti’s lips began to curl in as the heat inside him rose. Little did he know that the prophecy was to come.
18 years had long past that time. The twins grew to be extraordinarily beautiful. Isis had grown to be fairly short with an unusually pale complexion and astonishing eyes of violet. Her fraternal twin, Kamisi, grew to be fairly taller than she with a most peculiar deep complexion and electrifying eyes of gold. The two had been taught strict morals and ethics from their father, who soon fell ill and passed away. By tradition, the throne was passed to the child who came first. The title was passed down to Isis, after she had betrothed to a man of fine stature. They lived a fine life as the chiefs of their village. On the other hand, Kamisi was green with envy of her sister. She wanted the throne. She wanted power.
Thus, born her rebellion. Kamisi fled from the village with a small group of others to hide in the savannah. Every night since Isis became chief, the group would sneak into the village and steal new born babies. They’d brutally torture the child, and then drank the blood from it. A man had witnessed this ritual. He was so appalled by what he had seen; he had sprinted back to the village roaring at the top of his lungs in terror. Slowly, villagers began sliding out from their tents. Isis and her husband were awoken by the commotion. They had gotten word of Kamisi’s evil doings. Isis’s eyes began to shower tears in disbelief. She had never known Kamisi to be so cruel. Immediately, Isis ran out in search of her devious sister. She went to Kamisi as Kamisi was getting ready to lye for sleep. Isis fell to her knees, sputtering with sorrow, begging Kamisi to stop. Kamisi showed no remorse and gave her hurt sister the cold shoulder. The two grew apart. Kamisi demanded the throne, but Isis just couldn’t let her people fall into the hands of her disgusting sister.
One night, with a full moon completely revealed, Kamisi and her small tribe snuck into the village with weapons of destruction. Suddenly, orange flames rose. Screams and cries of men, women, and children came from behind the crackling. The tribe raged havoc among the villagers until blood was strewn across the ground and flames had engulfed any sign of hope.
In the middle of this all lay Isis. She was on her knees, begging for forgiveness from her sister with tears flooding from her. This was of no satisfaction to Kamisi. She brought her arm from behind her back and held the decapitated head of Isis’s husband in her face. The sight of her dear man’s head, painted and pierced, making an expression of absolute terror, made Isis scramble to her feet and flee from the burning lands. She fled from her sister’s harsh cackles.
A narration came from the heavens in a soft voice so familiar: “The twins borne are Good and Evil, here for judgment of this land. You mustn’t keep them alive, for envy and greed will cause suffering among our people. Do not let this judgment come. Nomti’s children must die before it’s too late.”
Isis was crouched beside a witch. She begged for the witch to do something to end this madness. The witch did as instructed. She had transformed Kamisi and her tribe to grow cold and lifeless, forced to forever feed off blood. She had cursed the lands into a barren desert which killed many of her clan to burn to cinders in sunlight. The tribe had no choice but to travel North, until they had eventually reached a place of harsh winds and white snow. They had never returned to Kemet. The witch blessed Isis with a life of eternity and unlimited knowledge.
An obnoxious beeping began set off by his head. He felt his body rise from unconsciousness. A feeling he associated with the feeling of emerging from water. Tiredly, he groaned. Just another day, he thought to himself. Tiredly, he swung his hand onto the annoying little alarm and pressed hard on the snooze button. His eyes fluttered open. There, at the end of his bed, was his Russian Blue gnawing on something.
“Pe’r?” he groaned, “Watdaya’ got?” The room was too dark for him to see anything distinct, but he did notice a long stringy object swaying from between his cat’s lips. “Pepper?” He stretched out his hand. The object felt almost like leather. His eyes popped wide open. “PEPPER! YOU LITTLE s**t!” He jerked himself up and seized the cat by the neck. Pepper spat out the leathery object that turned out to be remnants of what was a belt. “What the hell is wrong with you, you nasty little thing! Get out of here!” From the sound of his voice, the cat instinctively pounced from his bed and pranced out of his room. Suddenly, he heard laughter erupting from the other room and the tantalizing odor of bacon.
“Lenny?” he shouted as he sat up in bed.
“No, I’m a robber. I just finished stuffing your television into the trunk of my car while you were asleep, but I felt like making you breakfast. Does eggs, bacon, and pancakes sound fine?” the voice replied from the kitchen. “Who is this Lenny you speak of? He sounds like quite a man.” They both laughed a little at Lenny’s joke. “’You getting up anytime soon, Craig?” Craig slid the covers aside and began to stand up.
“Actually, I think I’ll let you take my TV. I bought it from a garage sale anyway. It’s a piece of crap,” Craig spoke back. He began to make his way out of his room, then stopped in the threshold and gave Lenny a sardonic look.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty! When was the last time you had a heart healthy breakfast?” Lenny asked with a grin running from one pink chubby cheek to the next.
“Oh, but I thought a big bowl of nothing was good for you in the morning,” Craig whined sarcastically. He gave Lenny a smile back, and then made his way toward the restroom.
“So. Read the paper lately?” Lenny asked as he flipped sizzling strips of bacon over in the pan. Craig entered the small room, flipped the lights on, and approached the toilet bowl.
“No, why? Comics getting better? Or is that just my cynicism talking?”” he replied while preparing himself for urination. He let out a sigh of relief and tilted his head back. Nothing felt better than the first piss of the day. Every word Lenny said didn’t even matter to Craig in that moment. He had just reached his own Nirvana by simply emptying his bladder. Once he had finished the routine, Craig left the restroom with the sound of the toilet roaring behind him. Slowly, he approached the little beaten up garage sale couch and flopped onto it. The rough fabric of the couch rubbed irritatingly against his bare back.
“How’s my food going?” Craig asked, suddenly realized that he’d just rudely interrupted Lenny’s rant. He winced, hoping Lenny wouldn’t be too upset about that.
“It’s finished, actually,” Lenny replied, rather cheerfully, as he carried two plates over towards Craig’s pathetic excuse for a living area. Lenny placed one plate jammed with steaming food on the garage sale wooden coffee table across from Craig, and then took a seat on the raggedy garage sail recliner that no longer reclines. Craig snatched the plate up and placed it on his chest.
“Did you sleep well?” Lenny asked between chews. He shoveled his eggs in his mouth hurriedly forkful by forkful.
“Sure. But that damn dream never stops reoccurring,” Craig complained before pursuing the consumption of the tender pancake.
“The one set in ancient Egypt with that prophecy and what not?” Lenny asked, intrigued by this phenomena. It had been since he had first met Craig when they were young school boys that the first report if this dream came up. This made visiting Craig all the more exciting for Lenny, for he adored gossip and drama.
“I don’t know what’s going on or what this means or if it actually means anything at all! Jesus Christ, if I have this dream one more time I might just go crazy! It’s the most ridiculous thing ever!” he stated, then stuffed a piece of the pancake into his mouth.
“Do you think we should read into this? Like, go see a fortune teller or something?” Lenny suggested after a hard swallow.
“Look, I’ve been having this dream for as long as I can remember. It’s starting to bother me. I’m not sure if I really want to have someone “read into” my dreams. First of all, that’s creepy. Second of all, how do I know their right? I mean, do they have a PhD in ‘dreamology’? Lenny, it’s a nice thought. I’m just not sure if that’s the best way to handle this situation.”
“Craig,” Lenny began. Softly, he placed his plate down on the table and folded his hands on his knees. They looked into each other’s eyes steadily. “Do you remember Craig Keaton; the New York Times’ bestselling author of ‘Justice’? Do you remember what it was like to be that man; the man who could write endlessly about his monumental characters Detective Henry Klein and Samantha Rhodes? Do you remember those days, Craig?”
“Yes, Lenny, but what the hell –“
“This dream is an opportunity to get back up on that computer of yours! Not to spend hours of your day playing mindless internet games, but to be Craig Keaton again!”
“I can’t write and you know this! When Miranda left me, she took two things with her: my love and my son. She ran off with everything I ever had and now that it’s gone I have no reason write! I’m a washed out thirty year old man who has nothing to show for himself except a pile of porn growing ever-so quickly into a mountain of shame. What is there to write about now? How pathetic I am? How pitiful my life has become? I’m sorry Leonard, but Henry Klein and Samantha Rhodes belong to television now. Besides, how can this dream inspire me to write again? It never did in the past,” Craig argued. The two of them ate in silence for a moment.
“I didn’t say that the dreams would give you something to write about. And I never said anything about Klein and Rhodes,” Lenny declared sternly.
“Then what was it that you were getting at?” Craig asked with some annoyance, but enough tolerance to handle the discussion.
“You’ll see, Craig. I know you too well.” Quietly, they finished their breakfasts. Once they cleaned the plates, the set them back down on the table and sat in deep thought. Craig was puzzled. He couldn’t figure out what Lenny meant by all of this and wasn’t eager to find out.
“Sorry, but I must go,” Lenny said. Craig nodded.
“Thank you for the grub and tell Stacey I said hello.”
“Don’t mention it. See you tomorrow, Craig.”
“Bye, Lenny.”
“Tell me of your friend’s dream,” the old lady asked. Her voice reminded Lenny of that witch in Snow White. At the thought of that, he almost chuckled. They were sitting in a dark room illuminated only by tiny flickering flames as smoke from incents swirled around them. He cleared his throat briefly.
“He dreams of ancient Egypt. Of a prophecy told…” he rambled into detail of Craig’s dream. He told her about Isis’ long curly white hair and Kamisi’s long hair of black. He told her of the orange flames that rose and the cries that echoed. From the inside, he let it all out. His voice fell into silence at the end of the story.
“Does he dream of other things?” she asked.
“Well, sometimes. There is that dream that likes to repeat at times. But there is this other one that occurs just as often. It’s in first person point of view though, unlike the previous dream. It’s of this young beautiful girl. He can actually understand the stuff their talking about because they speak French and he took French as a second language throughout his schooling. Anyway, there is this girl and this boy and they’re in love. There’s this man stalking her throughout the dream as like a shadow in the dark. The dream always ends at the same point though. He sees this man come to the boy in his sleep and the man hisses. The last thing he sees are these fangs in the man’s mouth. That’s it. We assume that the boy was murdered by the man who was a vampire. We’re not exactly sure. But the only thing he remembers is this boy screaming the girl’s name desperately as he dies.”
“What is her name?”
“Mary-Anne.” The old lady nodded slowly.
“And you said that the dreams have been stalking him since childhood?”
“Yes,” Lenny answered in a breath. She nodded slowly once more.
“There is something I can tell you now. It is that this friend you speak of is in no danger,” she said vaguely.
“How come they keep on coming back and have been for so long?” Lenny asked, overcome with joy that there was an answer.
“The first dream I believe is sent telepathically. Someone somewhere with preternatural abilities is trying to tell him something.”
“What about the second one?”
“That one I cannot say. In order to find out if that one is as significant as the other, you must hypnotize him. I’m not talking about the hypnotism as in the stuff you see on television. I’m talking about having him travel back into previous life-times, to see whether or not that event has taken place and left a permanent scar on his soul,” the lady answered more precisely.
“How does this hypnotism work exactly?”
“Bring him to me.”
“What?”
“Craig, just get your a** down here. I’m telling you, this may just work! We could figure out what these dreams mean! When you were a boy, didn’t you ever wonder why these dreams kept on haunting you? Don’t you think you deserve this after being tormented for so long? It’ll bring peace to your life, Craig. You’ll finally know!” Lenny tried persuading. He heard Craig release a sigh over the phone.
“Alright. Just text me the address. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Lenny slapped his phone shut and gave the lady a wide grin. With her orange spotted cat in her arms, she nodded at Lenny with a grin equal in satisfaction.
After long moments of waiting, Craig came through the heavy brown door. He approached the old lady wirily.
“Hello, Craig. Your friend here has told me much about you. He says that you are interested in hypnosis,” the lady said as she began to stand. She was a short lady with a hunched back adorned in the strangest garb.
“Hi. I don’t know anything about hypnosis,” he stated as he stood awkwardly. The little lady let out a cackle that made him think of an evil little witch.
“Let’s begin, then.” She led them behind a bead curtain, into a dimmer room that contained rugs of all styles, a small couch, and a wooden chair. All along the walls were rows and rows of musty books. Craig entered the room, giving Lenny a look that said, “I hate you.” Lenny returned Craig’s look with a broad smile. Craig rolled his eyes. They watched as the little old lady took a seat in the chair.
“Lie down on the couch for me, Craig,” she invited with her hand extended towards the couch. Slowly, Craig approached the sofa and sat down. He allowed himself to sink into the couch. On the other side of the room, Lenny stood against the wall with one thick leg crossed over the other.
“Alright Craig. Close your eyes.” As the old lady spoke calmly, Craig did as instructed. The old lady stood up and went to the left wall in search for a book. Once she’d spot it, she slid it out of its place. She took a seat back in her chair. With the little wrinkly hands, she flipped the book open to the correct page.
“Completely relax your body. Craig, have you ever been hypnotized before?”
“No.”
“I want you now to clear your mind. Clear everything inside and picture a deep void. Make that void in your head. Relax your shoulders,” she whispered and went on and on. In Craig’s mind, he could see the void. His body felt almost numb and his mind was lost in this darkness of nothing.
“Craig, I am going to ask you to go back. Try not to think about anything else and just go deep. Dig deep. Keep being relaxed. Go back to the place most significant.” He continued to picture this void, until a violent burst of colors emerged from the bottom of the void. The colors streamed in shades of purples, greens, and yellows. They twirled and twisted and danced gracefully. Inside, he felt this rush. He felt as if it were his mind traveling into the void, rushing past the streams of color. Eventually, the voice of the lady seemed to drift away and it was just nothing. He began to see something. A light came streaming through the center of the void.
His eyes belonged to someone else. Suddenly, he realized that all of his senses were no longer his. He was in another body; a body of a man, surrounded by thousands of people. From between moving silhouettes, his eyes laid on the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. It was the girl from his dreams. She had the fairest skin covered by the most fashionable attire from the early 1800’s. In her long, elegant profile, he could see that she had a pointed French face holding the most vibrant cyan eyes he had ever seen. Her raven black hair tumbled about her shoulders in perfect spirals. In that moment, he felt heat rise throughout him. It was a feeling unlike any other. He felt temperatures rise dramatically and life began to seem more vivid. There was an outside force dragging him back, but his soul refused. Everything around him became a harsh vacuum. The image of this woman began to corrode into little black slivers and the world around him faded. He witnessed the void engulf the precious image and all the swirling colors retreat to the center. All at once, he felt himself violently rush backward.
Lenny’s eye balls were on the brink of shooting from his face as he gaped at Craig. The old lady had a soft hand on Craig’s heaving chest. All over his skin was cold sweat that caused his clothes to cling to him. He was panting hurriedly. For a long moment, the three of them remained perfectly still. Craig had calmed his nerves, taking large gulps of hair.
“What did you see?” the old lady asked in a low, soft tone. Craig allowed himself to take a deep breath.
“The dream! I was there! It was me!” he gasped breathlessly. He was beyond all belief and shocked out of his wits. What he had experienced, he had never once thought it’d be true. Life, everything he ever knew, was all going to change.
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