by Leena Maria
"So you remember the butterfly now? I was certain Darryl sent it, and that little creature was proof to me that we don't cease to exist when we die.
"I would like you to believe that too.
"Obviously I am now on the Other Side, in the Unseen Worlds. I will try to contact you by sending you signs I still exist. What you need to do is to keep your eyes and ears open, and try to sense when I am near. I have read it is not easy to approach sad people – I mean approach from "the Spirit Side". It has to do with heavy energies. So you need to be calm, and try to remember the fun we had, and I will try to reach you then.
"Maybe I'll drop a book for you to read – that would get your attention, bookworm that you are!"
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. I mean literally, I could feel them bristling.
"Yes, I just might contact you through a book. I cannot tell you what it is, because I have to keep its secret, and someone other than you might find this letter. Still, it has to do with dreams. You will understand what I mean when the time comes."
I didn't know what to think. Part of me shrank from the idea of the "Unseen Worlds" and the "Other Side". But now the book falling on my toes seemed like something Kitty had... planned? Why else would she talk about contacting me through a book? And what was the secret that the book from my shelf held? I would have to read it through carefully again.
"Oh, and do take Muffin back home. I am certain he is there with you. He is probably the one who found this letter, isn't he? I used to train him to find things I hid. I always used a little rose perfume on the things I wanted him to find, and that's what I did here too."
True. The silk sash that had held the key to the box smelled of tea rose. Kitty had probably used a drop of her treasure - a small bottle of Body Shop's genuine tea rose oil her mother had bought when she was young. They did not sell it any longer and one drop of it smelled like a bouquet of roses for hours. Just roses, no other perfume. Kitty loved roses.
Used to love roses.
There was a P.S. at the end of the letter.
"P.S. And Dana – even if I don't succeed in reaching you, I want you to remember that you will always be my best friend. I am sure we are soul twins. We just happened to be born in different families, but there was a reason we met. I will love you always. And our separation is not for all eternity - eventually we will meet again."
She had drawn one more smiling face and a heart and signed her letter with a big, bold "Kitty".
I sat there for a long while. Finally, I folded the letter back into its envelope and sat quietly for a long time, surrounded by the voices of nature falling asleep that came through my open window.
I went to bed, and on a whim took the pendant Grandma had given me into my hand. It felt heavy, and warm. Familiar, and reassuring, as if I had owned it all my life.
That night I dreamt of a woman sitting in a dark tent, writing on paper that looked like papyrus. I could only see her pale fingers holding a reed pen, and the flickering light of an ancient looking oil lamp – a shallow pottery container filled with oil. The tip of a wick protruded from a little hole at the end of a neck reaching out horizontally from the container of the lamp. The lamp was burning with a warm flame. I knew the writer was a woman from her delicate pale fingers. I could not see what she wrote, but I knew with the certainty of a dreamer that she was telling someone about the death of another that was dear to her.
She had no tears left, but I cried for her loss as well as mine in my sleep.
CHAPTER SIX
6. Going Forth by Day
Oh my heart which I had from my mother!
Oh my heart which I had from my mother!
Oh my heart of my different ages!
Do not stand up as a witness against me, do not be opposed to me in the tribunal,
do not be hostile to me in the presence of the Keeper of the Balance,
For you are my ka which was in my body, the protector who made my members hale.
Go forth to the happy place whereto we speed;
do not make my name stink to the Entourage who make men.
do not tell lies about me in the presence of the god;
It is indeed well that you should hear!
-Book of the Dead
I am now sitting in a tent that has been raised for me right next to wabt net wet, the place of embalming, where mother, true of voice, shall have her body prepared to be the home for her ka and ba so that her light soul, akh, can become a child of Nut and spend eternity with the northern stars.
There is no question in my mind that mother was murdered, and I know exactly who did this - I recognised the signs in her body. I curse my sister. People speak in whispers of a new monster, Ammit, that will eat the hearts that are not pure, when people reach the last judgment. I know my sister's heart is heavy with the thoughts of evil deeds, and I know my curse will reach her. May Ammit devour her heart, and may her soul be restless forever more, never finding peace again. May it die a second death and be forgotten for all eternity.
I am writing this to you, my father, because I promised mother I would let you know of her death. I also write this to tell you how you can find the Place of the Neteru - the place where mother shall be buried in secrecy. It is a place of deep secrets, and there she can be found with the secrets she guarded with her life, if you, my father, wish to search for her.
Mother warned me that whenever words are written down, secrets can be revealed, and no written secret lasts forever. And so I shall hide the clues along the Path of the Dead, for you to find if you understand. And you are the only one who could ever understand the path, mother told me.
I have taken good care that mother will be embalmed in the best way possible. I am not poor, and Mother of the King, Tiye - life, prosperity, health - has made offerings too, items that are of great wealth and value to her, to show her affection. She and mother were close, closer than many know. But Tiye - may she live - is not here to see the burial. She is now in Akhetaten, preparing for the great jubilation of all nations. There also is my sister now - stuck with her duties, dancing under the Aten's blessed rays, to celebrate his glory for all eternity. She cannot leave because she is in the retinue of Neferneferuaten, and does not wish her to know what she knows, as all would be taken from her. Also her accomplices cannot reach her now because of her duties under the sun. And it is good. Because of this we can leave in secrecy.
I know who are the spies she has sent to observe all I do, being prevented from coming here herself. They are to find where the Abode of the First Gods is, the place where mother will be buried. But rest assured, my father, she will not know this from me because not even I know. There is another who will lead us there. I have been there before but I do not know where it is.
I was with mother when her soul left her body, and I will take care it can unite with her body again and live forever more in the Field of Reeds, in the kingdom of Osiris, until it is time for you to meet again.
I had her taken to the place of washing, the she-netjer, which serves the blessed dead of the keneret of Mi-Wer. Her body was washed and she was then taken here, the place of embalming with great respect shown to it all the way. The women of the keneret wailed and threw dust on their hair, ululating their grief for all to hear.
I have witnessed the process of embalming myself, though no other outsider has been allowed to see this before. But they feared me, and they feared the Mother of the King, and so on her orders I was given permission, after careful purification. And so all hairs of my body were shaved, my mouth was purified with salt, and I sat, in a corner, out of the way, and observed the violent ways used to prepare us for eternity, so that we can keep on living.
This is why I know that today the Slitter has done his job, and has made the incision on my mother's lower belly, next to the left thigh. I know this because while sitting in my dark tent I heard the other embalmers chasing him, and I heard the shouts of the people who loved my mother and who are guarding us even now. T
hey attacked the Slitter as is proper, hitting him, and throwing stones at him for violating her beautiful body. I have taken care he will be rewarded later with a golden arm ring to thank him for his service, and he will give me the blade used on my mother so no one else can use it - it shall be buried with her. I know the Slitter well, for he has often talked with me in the darkness and I know his attitude towards the dead is respectful. He is not the kind to steal the amulets, to insult beautiful bodies or do his job poorly or demand things from the dead.
So my mother's viscera have now been removed for embalming, and they will now continue, with her body on the embalming bed, the men squatting around it to perform their sacred duties. Mother of the King, Tiye - life, prosperity, health - has given part of the necessary ingredients so that mother can raise from the dead in seventy days as Osiris was resurrected by Isis. Her ka and ba will be united and she will become an akh, a living soul . She shall never roam the earth searching for peace. The right words will be spoken for her, the Opening of the Mouth performed by me as the law dictates of the heir of the dead and offerings shall be made for her for all eternity.
There is palm wine to wash my mother from the inside and the outside. There is fine linen thread to sew the incision together and a golden plate to cover the wound. There is divine salt, netjry, for the preservation of her body. There are onions to fill mother's eyes and legs. There is lichen to fill her body cavities and sacred bees wax for her mouth and nostrils. There are sweet spices and Mother of the King, Tiye - life, prosperity, health - has even sent sacred incense of Punt and juniper oil of Byblos to make mother's body smell sweet eternally. There is resin to make sure she will be preserved forever.
Bandages of fine linen are waiting - mother made them herself while still alive, and gave orders how they are to be used - exactly as she says. They are covered with sacred writings in her own language, in a language no one understand, except me, and you, my father, nearest her body. I shall be observing the wrapping to see it is properly done. All the secrets of the times to come are written in the outer bandages, in a language the guardians of her body understand. And what I know of the times to come fills me with great sadness and fear. I see kingdoms fall into pieces, I see great wars, illnesses and famine - but I also see great hope for mankind.
And so I have seventy days to finish the scroll of the Going Forth by Day for her - exactly the way she told me to do it. I will not let anyone else do it for I, a woman, have learned to write like the scribes - they paid for my knowledge with their own secrets. It is my duty as her daughter to prepare for my mother the path through the shadows and dangers of death. I have the papyrus, I have the reed pen and red and black ink. I have plenty of oil for my oil lamps. The pictures have already been painted according to my mother's advice, by a scribe in the House of Life of Amun before Aten's people attacked to destroy every memory of the great god, when people still had an afterlife, and were not made to suffer all eternity in their dark tombs at Aketaten at night and flock to the offering altars of the great temple of the Aten by day.
My mother will not be advised to flock with them. She will go forth to the day of the Field of Reeds the way people of Kemet have always done. She will have her heart weighed at the final judgement against Maat's feather of truth, and her heart shall be found light and pure. Her voice shall sound true in front of the gods when she denies having done the forty two evils and they will believe her, my beautiful mother, true of voice. I will see to that by writing the texts myself, above these beautiful pictures, and I shall place her scroll into her hands, inside her coffin at the end of these days.
And I shall make a copy of her scroll to you, my father, and send it to you by messengers my mother chose, even if it means I will not have time to rest for seventy days. She wanted it, my mother, true of voice. She wanted you to follow her path to eternity, so that you too would know your steps in the land of eternal life, and meet her there when the time is right. You will see the pictures in her scroll give the advice you need to walk the Path of the Dead to her. She said you will understand what you see in the pictures.
I am to leave this letter for you in the trustworthy hands of the ones mother chose for the task. Mother told me how to send you a message so you will find its hiding place. I shall do as she told me. I shall walk into the mist, following the path she advised me to take, even though I have never had the courage to step there before. I shall speak the words she told me to say, to the ones who shall write it down. My message will be safe, because when I say it, the old ways will have been forgotten, and no one will understand it until the time is right again. But you, my father, will understand the words when you hear them, and find this letter, and the first clue to the secret path to the place where mother has been prepared for eternal life, and where the secrets of creation are hidden.
Others, chosen by mother, will try to reach you through different paths, to ensure somehow her message will reach you, following the advice she gave to them. And we pray the gods some message will reach you, and you will find this letter, even though the journey is long and dangerous. We know we shall be hunted for the secrets we carry, mother warned us of this.
So please, my good father, walk the path to find my mother's scroll and go forth by day with her
CHAPTER SEVEN
7. Amongst the Books
The next day Grandma wanted to take me shopping. I accepted gratefully, welcoming the normality of going to our town, which was small, more like a village, but it had a few decent shops to mooch around. And a bookshop, which happened to have a sale on at that time.
I loved books. My room was practically lined with them, and my favorite birthday or Christmas gift was always a bookstore gift card from the day I learned to read. I also spent a lot of time in the local library, reading books. Because I had to watch my funds, I obviously could not afford all the books I wanted, so I often went to the library to check out if a title I'd heard about was worth buying.
I had put in my Christmas order early by telling my parents that I wanted an e-reading device, whether Kindle, iPad, or Nook. I had already seen how cheap books were in electronic form, and looking at my book shelves groaning under the weight of the volumes I had purchased, I knew I would either have to start moving my books to the guest bedroom or get that e-book reader. Seriously, I sometimes imagined that my bedroom floor was going to collapse under the weight and used to joke that it would be the first ever "death by books", though since losing Kitty I didn't really make jokes about death any longer. Anyway, my books were already in double rows on each shelf and the thought of having one device with all the reading material I could ever want in it was almost too good to be true.
But I still loved printed books. They felt like old friends in my hands. I guess I would always have "old fashioned" printed books as well, just like my dad collected old vinyl records. There was that special something in old-fashioned books...
So, of course I wanted to go to the book shop, and Grandma parked her sports car right in front of it in one graceful curve, steering the wheel easily with just one hand. The car got appreciative glances from the members of the male population who happened to be passing by. As did Grandma herself. I hoped I had inherited her genes and would age as beautifully as she had - she looked thirty years younger than she was. Really, not kidding.
The only strange thing gene-wise was that both my parents were quite short, yet I was considerably taller than they were. When I was a child, Dad used to joke that there must have been a giraffe in our family tree somewhere. And I, being in the first grade then, had asked about this possibility at school. After my teacher stopped laughing, I did not speak to Dad for two days.
I smiled at the giraffe-memory now, and followed Grandma through the open door into the book store.
I loved the smell of books and the sight of all those racks, relishing the moment. What should I look at first? Books about cats, I decided and walked over the worn wooden floor towards the books about nature and pets.
Grandma vanished somewhere amongst the taller shelves.
I more or less just drifted down the corridors of the book store after that, reading the book titles, picking up some of them to find out more from their back covers, and then moving on. I noticed Grandma at the metaphysical section, in front of a slew of books about angels. Well, where else, I thought. I wanted to tell her what had just happened, and was starting to move towards her when out of nowhere someone almost ran me over. I fell against a bookshelf and hit my knee, hard, right on the bone.
"Owwwww!" I grabbed my knee. I knew there would be a gorgeous bruise later on. For a moment the pain overtook me and it was a few seconds before I could think of anything else.
"Oh, sorry! I do hope I haven't hurt you seriously?"
At a glance, he was maybe a few years older than I was, but it was somehow hard to pinpoint his actual age. He was very tall - a rare exception to the young guys I knew. Looking down on them tended to have a bit of a cooling effect on any romantic intentions they had, to put it mildly. Sure I had been on a few dates, and had my experiences of awkward kisses, but nothing serious. I was certain that me being so tall was the cause. I figured that men, for whatever reason, mostly feel insecure if their girlfriend is taller than they are. Standing on tiptoe while kissing a girl seemed to be too much for the male ego - that was my experience, anyhow.
His T-shirt revealed muscular arms. It wasn't a body builder's physique, though, just the well-proportioned muscles of someone who had clearly done some physical work. Two very blue eyes stared down at me. I almost forgot to be angry with him - he was so handsome. And oddly familiar... I just couldn't place him. I had the weirdest feeling he looked at me as if I was someone he knew. Maybe he was the big brother of one of my friends or classmates? But no, I dismissed that... I knew I would not have forgotten someone like him, even if I'd only met him once before.