The Frog's Pad Collection

by David Grewcock

  Sadly even though Tut-Ankh-Ra was wise and clever he did not see that his own people wanted to please their ruler and that they wanted to show how proud they were – and decided that they were strong enough to take on neighbouring countries. They started to attack the smaller principalities at first – if they were successful, they told Tut-Ankh-Ra that the beaten people wanted to join them; if the defeat was heavy – well, they’d been attacked and Tut-Ankh-Ra, being a benevolent person to his people, would exact revenge.

  Finally though, his people attacked a neighbouring country at the same time that Tut-Ankh-Ra was visiting. Tut-Ankh-Ra was furious and sought the leader of his attacking people. Set-Nuin was the leader of the charge and explained to Tut-Ankh-Ra what they were doing. Tut-Ankh-Ra was furious and immediately drew his sword. Set-Nuin was a seasoned soldier and also drew his sword. However, Set-Nuin had a special sword and scabbard that held a powerful poison. As he drew the sword it coated the blade with the poison. As they fought, Set-Nuin cut Tut-Ankh-Ra and the poison immediately starts to take effect. Paralysis set in quickly.

  Tut-Ankh-Ra was taken back to his palace. Set-Nuin had to act quickly and convinced the people that Tut-Ankh-Ra was being held under a magic spell by the neighbouring country. He convinced half the palace to arrange for immediate and bloody retribution – which they did; the other half of the palace arrange for a place to put the body of Tut-Ankh-Ra. They didn’t have enough time to build a pyramid, so a team of carpenters set to work creating a palace in the living rock, using their skills to carve and colour the sandstone to make a palace. Finally, they moved Tut-Ankh-Ra into the cave tomb. The paralysis had passed and rigor mortis had taken over. They bound Tut-Ankh-Ra and fixed wings to his back. Set-Nuin could not bring himself to place his king into the sarcophagus, but instead said to the people that Tut-Ankh-Ra would decide for himself when he would get in. they then sealed the tomb shut.”

  “Wow” said Lady Millicent, “so the people would still believe he was alive!”

  “Yes and that’s how it remained to this day!”

  “So what happened to Set-Nuin? I don’t ever remember reading about him!”

  “Actually, that’s quite interesting really. As they believed their ruler wasn’t dead, they also believed that if he was to come back to life he would need someone there that he could trust. So as well as two servants, they also entombed two soldiers and as a people decided that Set-Nuin would be one of the soldiers!”

  “So he was entombed alive!”

  “Yes, so our opening the tomb was going to be quite a spectacle.”

  “So, what did you find?”

  “Well, when I got there Professor Willis had already made a lot of work clearing the sand that had blown up in front of the tomb door. The rock was intricately carved and it had taken the professor nearly two weeks to detail all the carvings. We carefully made space to one side and using blocks and tackle we slid the rock open. The smell of the sealed tomb was incredibly strong, even after the many years that had passed. But we persevered and entered.

  What surprised me first was that it wasn’t dark – there were flames still glowing from the lanterns. Our investigations shown that the tomb had tapped into a natural resource of flammable oil that was slowly feeding the flames – that in itself was a surprise. The tomb itself was huge. Unlike some of the other burial tombs, this was almost simple in the fact it was a single room. Directly opposite the entrance stood the mummified remains of Tut-Ankh-Ra, behind him the sigil of the Ankh and his golden staff. Each side of the central dias were his two servants. Just in front was the stone sarcophagus still closed. But standing to one side was one of the soldiers, motionless like Tut-Ankh-Ra and lying in the wooden box was the second soldier.”

  “Lying in a wooden box?”

  “Yes, it was as if he had decided to use it as a cot to sleep in!”

  “So what happened next?”

  “Well that’s when it really started to get odd. Professor Wilis was walking round, cataloguing everything he found and carefully annotating where each item lay, when one of his assistants started to open the sarcophagus. I was interested in this as well, so I started to help him. We had just slid the lid open a little when… when the soldiers started to move.”

  “WHAT!”

  “Exactly! I thought it was a trick, you know, the movement of air, but the standing soldier started to turn towards us. I then saw the red eyes staring at me. I looked around and realised that all the mummies were starting to move. I called out to the professor, but he ignored me at first – but then he saw that the soldier in the box was now standing up! They all had swords drawn. The professor’s assistant fainted, so I had to pick him up and drag him to the exit. I realised that the professor was still inside, so I rushed back in. As I re-entered I saw an unconscious professor being hauled onto the lid of the sarcophagus. I rushed forward and drew my pistol. I fired – but it had no effect on these creatures. Then I saw it – Set-Nuin’s sword, hanging loosely by his side. I rushed forward and grabbed the sword and pulled it from its scabbard. It was not a blade weight or shape I was used to – more like a scythe – so all I could do was whirl it round my head and decapitate these mummies. As soon at the sword struck they collapsed to the ground, breaking to dust as they landed. The two servants remained sat, their heads looking to their king.

  I picked up the unconscious professor and turned to leave. That’s when I heard a noise. I turned to see – straight into the red eyes of Tut-Ankh-Ra. He smiled at me, and then stepped forward. I quickly put the professor down and pushed the lid more open. Tut-Ankh-Ra stepped slowly forward, dust falling from his body as he moved. Finally he reached the edge of the sarcophagus. He looked at me and I picked him up and lifted him over. He collapsed into the stone – and into dust. I pushed the lid back shut, then picked up the professor and carried him out. “

  “Good grief! Was the professor alright?”

  “Yes – by the time he had come to we had resealed the tomb. I’d arranged that we would then further seal the cave shut and no-one would know about it again. The professor agreed – and later that night he burned his notebook as we sat round the fire. As I was going to my tent, I took off my jacket – and found that crystal in my pocket. It could only have been put there by Tut-Ankh-Ra in thanks.”

  “Well that is a good story” said Lady Audrey “although didn’t I see you buy that at Sameby’s Auction house last week?”

  Black Crane laughed “Now Lady Audrey, we’ve known each other long enough – which version do you want to believe?”

  OO - - OO

  Holly – a mote in time

  Sometimes in life, an author is presented with a series of observations and events which present a story idea. The nagging doubt that then strikes the author is whether anyone will read into the story and think “I wonder if this is about me?”

  Jonathan scrolled through the list of emails on his computer screen. It had been a few days since he’d last checked, but was still surprised at how many of them he was deleting without reading – offers from companies that he’d signed up to, spam email, junk mail… he’d started to get into an automatic process until … something stopped him. An email from Richard. “Old Friends” said the subject title.

  Jonathan quickly checked the deleted emails folder to make sure that he hadn’t inadvertently deleted another email wrongly before returning to his inbox.

  “Old Friends”.

  Jonathan clicked the “read” button and the message popped up on screen:

  “Hello everyone!

  I’ve been going through my old photo collection and decided to scan a few in; hopefully you’ll enjoy them! Bob – that picture of you with the inflatable tree is in there..!”

  There was then a link to a web page. Jonathan smiled at the comment to Bob; what a great weekend that had been and how Bob had been a good sport when he was left on the beach, clutching an inflatable Christmas tree to spare his blushes whilst th
e rest of the gang leaned by the cars a few hundred yards away. Richard was always one for capturing those pictures, which then turned up at Christmas parties years later, typically when someone had come along with a new partner who was introduced to everyone. Older, but never wiser.

  Jonathan clicked the link and the browser page opened up.

  “Old Friends” said the title.

  Jonathan reflected that Richard had been busy. So many memories now trapped digitally, all those incriminating pictures displayed side by side, revealing Richard’s knack for catching people when they least expected it. There were several pages of thumbnails, so Jonathan paused momentarily and poured himself a whisky, then sat back down and clicked the first image.

  As the images lit up his face, each one brought back its own little snapshot of history. The first camp that they all went on, that trip to the pub when they were all under age but still managed to get drinks served; that tent that would not stay up no matter how many pegs were banged into the ground…

  Sometimes, the snapshot in time wasn’t to do with the picture at all. Jonathan recognised that some of the images were taken on camps and events that he hadn’t been to – whilst his friends had gone off together to Europe backpacking (or the infamous Ibiza adventure) Jonathan’s other interests took him in different directions. There was a little regret lodged in Jonathan’s mind, but this was quickly dispelled as he then remembered the adventures he had instead.

  Then Jonathan was brought back to earth with a bump. Holly.

  The photo was a fairly candid one of Holly and himself at a Christmas party. Both were laughing and looking straight into each others eyes. It was clear that these were two people who were oblivious to the world around them, just wrapped up in each others emotions and arms. Yes, thought Jonathan, I remember that night. It had been a magical, wonderful night. They had left the party fairly late, but he’d promised Holly’s dad that he would get her home before midnight; and yet even though he was going to make that time… well, if they were a little late at the end of her drive, her dad wouldn’t have minded; they seemed to get on so well. That walk home, as the snow fell insistently, silently, muffling the sounds of the passing cars and dimming their lights to a yellow glow, they walked hand in hand and step in step. The warmth that flowed from hand to hand ensuring that they really didn’t notice the snow as it wetted their hair. And before they had got very far from the party, Holly had pulled him to her for that electric, wonderful kiss. Jonathan could still remember the warmth through the snow-chilled lips, the streetlight back lighting them in that classic, iconic pose of lovers the world over. Cars still drove by, but with the snow falling heavily no-one tooted their horn or offered any words. They were together, alone, but displaying their love to the world. It was a magical night – their first night when they arrived at the party as friends, but left as lovers. Jonathan felt the warmth flow through his heart, he felt the smile in his eyes as he recalled those perfect, honeyed days.

  Click.

  Then, Jonathan’s world stopped. The smile dropped from his lips, the pain welled in his eyes.

  Holly again, but this time lounging on a bench, her back arched ever so slightly with her head turned towards the camera; her eyes slightly closed but still burning with that passionate intensity. This was a photo for a lover, not a friend and there was no hint in the picture that it was anything else. Holly was looking at her lover in the picture, not the camera, and there were no shadows around the picture to show other people in shot. This was a photo that Richard had taken, of Holly, on holiday. There had been rumours of holiday romances and though never spoken of, were sometimes cautiously hinted at. Well, I guess I’d not been an angel on holiday, thought Jonathan – remembering the camp that he had attended with other friends and whilst his friends got serious with girls, he and Annette had sat, stoking the campfire and talking about their own respective partners who weren’t with them. And he certainly had not stopped Annette when she said (pretended?) to be tired and leant on his shoulder, or the quick gentle kiss before she had gone to bed that evening. But it was nothing… so was this picture a snapshot of nothing too?

  What to do?

  But Jonathan could not do a thing. Unable to click the mouse, he just sat staring at Holly and that picture. He found himself trying to put himself into the picture, but he just couldn’t. He questioned if Richard had thought at all about the emotions that would be brought to the surface by publishing a picture from…. Jonathan stopped himself. This picture was now about 28 years old. Why was he being so foolish to get so emotional about something nearly thirty years old?

  Jonathan then heard the familiar sound of plates being restacked from the dishwasher, which brought him back to the present day. His wife, whom he’d now been married to for over twenty years, was sorting things out. His wife, who he’d met at one of the gang’s summer parties just shortly after she’d had a major break-up with her old partner; her partner who was a good friend… of Richard. Jonathan paused for a moment, and quickly thoughts flooded into his mind of the happy times that he had shared recently and how only yesterday he’d considered made life perfect.

  “Hmm, life does run in circles”, thought Jonathan. “I really must thank Richard for putting these pictures up. I wonder what Holly is doing now? I hope she’s happy”.

  With that, Jonathan drained the last of his drink, and moved the mouse across the screen.

  Click.

  OO - - OO

  Willow

  Different trees are often identified as having particular characteristics or associated with emotions. I thought about how a tree might acquire those attachments…

  Willow was a reasonably normal child – at least, normal as much as any child could be. She wasn’t overtly destructive of her toys; she could play nicely with others and had a keen mind. A mind that wanted answers. A lot of answers. So Willow asked a lot of questions. Willow also seemed to want to share a lot of things with everyone – and that included those thoughts that should best remain as thoughts.

  “That man has sticky out ears – why have you got sticky out ears?”

  “That boy is walking with a limp – why is that boy walking with a limp?”

  “Why does that man smell?”

  “Why does that woman look funny?”

  For some people they would look at Willow, perhaps tut to themselves and move on. Others would wonder why Willow’s parents had allowed her to be so free with her thoughts. The truth is, Willow’s parents despaired that their otherwise normal daughter could be, well, so thoughtless at times, but hoped that she would grow out of it as she got older.

  Willow had a favourite walk to school. It took her down a country lane and along a path that followed the side of the river. On her way, she would pass a strange little cottage that backed onto the river.

  One day, Willow walked past the house and saw a little old lady washing her clothes in the river.

  “Why are you washing your clothes in the river?” she asked

  “Because they are dirty, child” the lady politely replied.

  “Why don’t you use a washing machine?” Willow quizzed her

  “Because I don’t need one – I’ve got the river”

  “Why do you not have a washing machine – we’ve got a washing machine – everyone has a washing machine – why do you not have a washing machine?”

  “Because I have the river. Oh, I’m done now” and the lady went inside, and Willow carried onto school.

  The next day, Willow passed the cottage again and saw the little old lady hanging her clothes on the line.

  “Why are you hanging your clothes on the line?” she asked

  “Because I’ve just washed them, child” the lady politely replied

  “Why don’t you use a drier?” Willow asked

  “Because I don’t need one – I have the wind”

  “Why do you not have a drier – we have a drier – everyone has a drier
– why do you not have a drier?”

  “Because I have the wind. Oh, that’s the last one hung” and the lady went inside and Willow carried onto school.

  The next day, Willow saw the old lady working in her garden.

  “Why are you digging in your garden?”

  “Because I have planted some vegetables.”

  “Why don’t you just buy them?”

  “Because I’ve planted them in the ground.”

  “Why don’t you buy your vegetables – we go to the shops and buy ours – everyone goes to the shops and buys theirs – why don’t you buy yours?”

  “Because I have ground to grow them. Young lady, you do seem to ask a lot of silly questions” said the old lady, politely.

  “Why are you such a funny old lady?” responded Willow

  “Why are you such an impolite young lady?” replied the old lady.

  “Why do you do the things you do – no one else does them – why are you so odd?” badgered Willow.