by Dawn Carter
The guards advanced on Yiara. “Get back, fools, I…am…the Queen! If you touch me, I will have you all killed!” The guards faltered for a moment. Yiara saw her chance and ran in the opposite direction for the doors to her chambers.
“Get her!” Ahmose ordered.
Yiara sped toward the gilded doors at the end of the bathing chamber. She was nearly at the exit when a pair of strong hands grabbed her about the waist and hoisted her into the air. She kicked her legs wildly. Ahmose caught up and slowly, slowly reached inside his finely made tunic to withdraw a cloth and a small corked bottle. He took out the stopper and held the cloth against it, tipping it upside down. Then he approached her, and she watched him warily as he gifted her with a tender smile.
“Fear not, Highness. I only wish to make your journey easier.” Ahmose pressed the cloth over her nose. Yiara quickly developed a plan. For about twenty seconds, she feigned to struggle, then pretended to give up, drawing in a deep breath of air when the rag was removed. She relaxed a little in the guards’ arms. She threw back her head and shut her eyes halfway, gasping weakly, then pretended to fall into a faint. The cloth was removed from her face. As inconspicuously as she could, she drew in a fresh breath of air. What Ahmose and the guard didn’t know was that, as a child, she’d been excellent at holding her breath in temper tantrums.
She was carried through the palace, then taken outdoors into the warm sunlight. She realized then that they were in the back courtyard; she assumed Ahmose purposely had his steed waiting, because he did not want to risk looking as if he was taking a resisting bride.
Once he set her in the enclosed litter, Yiara swooped down and pulled the knife from his boot. “I would rather die than allow your hands upon my skin!”
Before he could react, Yiara lifted the knife and, with force, plunged the large blade into her abdomen. “No man will stain my skin with his touch,” she screamed, closed her eyes and started to chant. “Anai, we will never rest, until we are united.” Under her breath, she cursed, then closed her eyes. Yiara had no idea that the moment she had plunged the knife into her torso, she had cursed her father and the land. For thousands of years following that fateful day, Yiara and Anai lived hundreds of lives in search of one another.
●●●
Gasping for breath, Spencer opened her eyes. Trying to focus, she reached to turn the bedside lamp on, and knocked over a cup. A loud crashing sound followed as the glass smashed on the hardwood floor. “Shit!” She felt sick—sweat glistened on her skin and soaked her armpits. Feverishly, she reached for her abdomen, and felt for the wound. She took several deep breaths, then looked around the room. It had just been a dream, but to Spencer, it had felt so real.
It was all making sense now, the dreams, the child grown into a woman, and why she had stopped dreaming for so many years. When she had killed herself, her childhood love had continued to live and mourn her death. All the years that had passed, the many lives she had lived, and it was now that she understood what had happened.
With the new knowledge, Spencer was even more confused. If she’d died, then why was she dreaming about a grown Anai? What was the purpose if she hadn’t grown into an adult with her? There were now more questions than answers.
With her head in her hands, she sat forward, her breath still staggered. “I don’t care what it takes, but I’ll find out why I’m dreaming about you, Anai.”
Chapter 4
“When you hear my voice, you will wake and remember everything.”
Spencer sat upright and stared blankly at the man before her. The visions had been the same as her dream from the night before, but more. She described her last memory of floating above her grieving father as he sat beside her body. “What does it all mean?”
“I can’t answer that for you. There is a reason you are having these past life dreams, and only you are the one who can get to the bottom of it.”
The hope in her eyes turned to sorrow. Spencer had no idea how to progress from here. There was no way to get answers from a ghost. Dismissing any further conversation, she pushed past him and stepped to the window. She felt as if she was against a brick wall, and there was no way past it. Tucking her long, dark hair behind her ears, she turned cautiously.
“Sometimes, when the visions are not giving you the entire story, you have to search them out.” He waved his hand to the row of books on the shelf.
The click of her heels could be heard as she rocked back and forth. “How am I supposed to do that?” Spencer fumed.
“Go and find books from the era, Spencer. Maybe consider travelling abroad, or find someone who is knowledgeable about the people who lived during that time.”
“I don’t know what time it’s from!”
“You have names, that’s a start.”
With a nod in his direction, she conceded, “I suppose you’re right.”
“Same time next week?”
“Sure,” Spencer said over her shoulder.
●●●
The night stretched on as she walked the long strip of stores, deep in thought. In the window of a tattoo shop, a picture of a single woman stood, one hand on her hip, the other holding a long staff. Spencer gasped. “It’s her, but it’s not her!” The likeness to the woman in the portrait was undeniably Anai.
The bell jangled as the door closed behind her, sending the room into semi-darkness. The black lights made the tattoo pictures glow and pop from the books on the stands along the walls. To her left, on the edge of an L-shaped couch, a man wearing torn, blue jeans, a light grey V-neck, and worn tennis shoes, fiddled with his phone.
Spencer immediately became engrossed as she scanned the different symbols in an open book. She slowly turned the pages, and stared at the beautiful artwork. Of course, none of them interested her, but she admired the colors.
From her spot by the counter, Spencer surveyed her surroundings. The room had an artsy warehouse feel, with purple walls, and a single painting that hung on the wall behind the counter. It was nothing like what she had expected from a tattoo parlor.
“Is there something I can help you with?” the man sitting on the couch finally asked, his eyes still fixed on his phone.
“Just looking for now.” Spencer nervously surveyed around. She had never been in a tattoo parlor, and wasn’t sure what to do next. On the end of the glass surface of the counter, there were three more binders filled with the artist’s samples. She turned when the music from the speakers paused momentarily, as if predicting the entrance of a customer. The bell on the door jingled as a young woman walked in. Her rich, dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun, which showed off the numerous piercings in each ear. Spencer sized up the girl, who was dressed in skinny jeans and a black band T-shirt. She was shorter than Spencer, perhaps near 5’ 2”.
“Hey, lady,” the man on the couch called out as he put aside the phone.
“Hey, Terry, is Bobby ready for me?” The girl sounded nervous.
“Bobby’s still with his client; he asked me to do your ink. If that’s okay with you?”
“I just need my old tattoo touched up and made the way I wanted it.”
“Let me see,” he said.
She turned toward the door and lifted up the back edge of her shirt to reveal a tattoo of a small, dark-colored sun.
“It's not exactly what I wanted.” She turned back to him and handed him a piece of scrap paper. “A friend came up with the design.”
“Good, you have a reference.” Terry seemed unfazed by the content of her explanation. “Unfortunately, it looks like you’ll have to eliminate the space between the rays, and make the whole thing a little bigger.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She sounded like she’d done a good amount of research. “I totally know what you mean.”
“Is that a hip hop band from L.A. or something?” He pointed to her shirt.
“Oh, actually, it’s REO Speedwagon. It’s not my style, but my older sister gave me the shirt. I like to wear it because it says big, and I'm
a little person.”
Terry appreciated her humor, and let out a high pitched laugh. “For the ink, price-wise, you're looking at a hundred and twenty dollars.”
She smiled, checked her watch, then frowned. “I thought it was going to be eighty. I won’t be able to make it to the bank before it closes. If it’s okay, can I make an appointment? I’m stoked to finally get it fixed.”
“Yeah.” Terry frowned.
Spencer noted the disappointed look, and deduced that the girl probably didn’t have the money and would not return. She thought the price he had quoted her seemed reasonable, but, then again, to the girl that might be a lot of money.
Not sure if he could do what she wanted, but she wouldn’t know if she didn’t ask. She cleared her throat. “Hi, can I get your help?”
Terry formed a smile. “What are you thinking about getting?”
When the girl laughed, Spencer glanced at her, furrowing her brow in annoyance. For a brief second the girl looked in her direction, then instantly down.
Terry nodded his head, then took the few steps to the counter next to her. “Can I help you find a tattoo?” His voice was so soft and assured—it gave Spencer confidence.
“I’m thinking about getting a tattoo,” she found herself saying as she stared up at him. “Here and here.” She touched each arm.
Terry took the book from the stand and tipped his head toward the counter. “Come over here. You can’t appreciate some of the tattoos in this light. I have one that I think you’ll like.”
“I have a specific design.”
Still, Spencer followed the man to the counter and watched as he turned the pages. The pictures were of faeries, small angels, flowers, and symbols that made no sense to her. Then he turned the page and stopped, his finger pointing to a beautiful black rose with droplets of bright red blood. For a brief second Spencer stared at the picture. It was pretty, but not for her.
“That’s not what I want.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and searched the Internet. Typing in different references, she searched until she found what she wanted, then held it up for him to see.
Terry looked it over. His brow creased, he looked back to her. “This is unusual but beautiful.”
When Spencer heard the door behind her open and close, she relaxed. “I’ve had several dreams about those arm bracelets. They look similar to the portrait of the Egyptian woman you have in the window.”
Taken aback, Terry strode over to the window and turned the portrait around. “I see what you mean. Are you into Egyptian mythology?”
Eyeing the portrait, Spencer shook her head. “No, but I’m drawn to it for some reason.”
Terry smiled, returned to the counter, and looked at the pictures on Spencer’s phone again. “It’ll take a few hours to draw this up. You can wait, or come back.”
“How much for both arms?” Money was no object to Spencer, but the sign on the door said cash only.
Taking another look at the picture, then back to Spencer, Terry grinned. “For you, I’ll do both for three hundred.”
There was no further discussion. Spencer explained she would go get something to eat and would be back.
●●●
“Before I get started, I have to ask you. Are you sure you want these?” Terry asked.
Spencer nodded her head vigorously, but said nothing.
“I should warn you, I’ve never done one like this.” He readied his machine, needles, and ink.
Once he was completely ready to begin, the bell to signal a new customer rang, and he looked up. A man stood by the counter, grinning, his girlfriend beside him, both prepared to get matching tattoos. Terry shook his head. “Come back tomorrow. I won’t have time to do it today.”
The door slammed, causing Spencer to jump. “I think he’s pissed.”
“I suppose, but it’s his bad, he should have been here three hours ago.” On her right arm, he peeled the transfer paper off, leaving the outline of the images.
Spencer took a deep breath and smiled, her eyes shut tight. She was not scared of pain, but the sound of the buzzing made her shudder. “Let’s do this.”
Hours passed before the buzzing of the machine silenced. She looked down, hesitantly at first, but when she saw the band around her arm, she smiled brightly. The image was the same as in her dream. Her entire bicep was encased from the elbow to her shoulder in bands of gold and lapis. “Oh wow.” She looked up to him, then back down her arm. “It’s beautiful, I definitely want the same on the other one.”
“Do you want to take a break first?” He glanced at his watch. She could hear his stomach rumble.
The thought of stopping now irritated her, but she knew he must be tired and hungry. Her stomach also growled, as she hadn’t eaten since lunch. “I’m hungry too. If we can get this done today, I’ll throw you an extra fifty dollars. I’m also willing to buy us a pizza for dinner. If you’re hungry, that is. I appreciate the time you’re spending on me.”
“Sure, but I need to take a few minutes break.” He smiled and patted the cigarette pack in the pocket of his shirt.
“Go ahead, I’ll call and have it delivered.”
As soon as the sound of the jingling door alerted her he was gone, she clapped her hands together, then grinned as she admired her arm.
●●●
The rest of the evening, Terry worked feverishly on her other arm. Spencer knew he was tired, but the extra money she had offered him was an incentive. The entire time he worked, Spencer described what she wanted next. Gold-gilded sandals on her feet, a large glittering pectoral around her neck, bearing the design of a hawk grasping the eye of Horus in its talons.
He shook his head several times and laughed. “I’m amazed how informed you are about the jewels from the Twentieth Dynasty, that ruled from 1190 to 1077 BC. Did you study it in school?”
She just smiled, her voice now at a higher pitch. “Nope. The power of the internet.”
“Wow, that’s going to be a lot of ink. We’ll have to make an appointment for the others.”
“I understand.” Spencer laughed.
“Can I ask why you’re doing this?”
Spencer looked at him, then down. “Have you ever had a dream that was so surreal, that it was all you could think of?”
Setting the machine down, he looked at her. “Are you doing this because of a dream?”
She nodded. “It’s not just any dream. I’ve had the same dream all my life. I don’t dream of anything else.”
He appeared worried as he looked at her arms, then to the machine. “This is pretty drastic because of a dream.”
She explained how important getting the tattoos were to her, and that it was all or nothing. “I don’t care how many sessions it takes. I want to get this done.”
“A past life, maybe?”
“That’s what they tell me.” Spencer laughed. It was nice to hear someone confirm what she already knew.
“You must have been royalty in your past life then. The jewelry you want done was probably worn by the wives and daughters of kings.”
“Do you know mythology and Egyptology?” Following his gaze, she saw a book on the shelf with Egyptian symbols.
“It’s my major. I’m hoping to go on a dig next year after I finish my student teaching.”
“Oh cool. Where do you plan on going?”
“To Cairo, and the Valley of the Kings.”
Spencer had learned that unusual happenings were not a coincidence. Something had drawn her to this particular tattoo parlor, and she was sure he was the reason. He could be her teacher, and help her understand her dreams. “I would love to know more about your studies and trip.”
Extending his arm, he placed the book back into its slot. Spencer took a moment to take a better look at Terry. She was amazed that, being a tattoo artist, he didn’t have any.
Chapter 5
Dear Diary,
I had another dream last night, it wasn’t like the others. This one was of old
ruins and hieroglyphics. I was walking down a long, dark corridor, drawings to my left and to my right. At the end, it was dark, and there was a single door. The torches that lit the way had stopped, and I couldn’t remove them from the wall, so I moved slowly, trying not to trip. When I reached the door, I could see a single sarcophagus. It was lined in gold, and had an image on it that I couldn’t make out. I could hear someone calling my name from the dream. The voice kept saying, “Come to me, Yiara, come to me.” I wasn’t scared, in fact, I wanted to find where the voice was coming from.
I wonder if the dream is changing because I got the tattoos on my arms. Or is the dream leading me to somewhere? It would explain a lot. Even as a child, I always felt different, like I didn’t belong, but I’m ready to find my place. One step at a time. I’m going next week to have the sandals tattooed on my feet. I’ve heard it’s going to really hurt, but I don’t care. Tiffany gave me a few Xanax to take beforehand, so I can relax, and her cousin gave her a spray that would numb my skin.
I’m excited; I can’t remember the last time I didn’t feel scared or confused. For the first time in years, I feel empowered. Time to get ready for work.
●●●
Five days later, Spencer hurried out of bed, planned her wardrobe for her excursion to the tattoo shop, and Terry. The afternoon found her back in front of the little shop, peering in the front window. Her stomach fluttered as she peered carefully through the glass. All she could think about from the moment she’d opened her eyes was finishing what she had started.
“Find anything interesting?” The voice jolted her and she spun around.
“Terry! You startled me. I’m ready to start on the others, and pick your brain.”
Terry smiled and unlocked the shop door; pushing it open, he stepped aside to allow her to enter before him. “Mmm, that smells good. What kind of perfume are you wearing?”