In Egypt I was born a prince, only to be deposed by my brother.
In my disposition, they poured acid upon me, my flesh melting as tallow on a burning candle. I escaped to the Nile. As I neared the Nile I could no longer run, and hand over hand I pulled myself to those cool soothing night waters. Finding that rivers edge, swhoosh, baptismo underneath the waters currents; I was pulled there I lay floating for a while. I slipped out of consciousness, I wondered if I was dead. I washed upon the shores of the night. In the darkness, a high priestess found me, dying, she spoke with a kiss that started sweet upon my neck, I was slipping from myself. I saw myself floating above my body, as my life’s blood released.
In a moment as I died, and her blood was given to my corpse. My deaths heartbeat, and called back I was, but I wasn't, this was inexplicable, unexplainable. My soul in shards, I sharded, out into the universe of mysteries.
I was still wrecked and tattered as she sent servants to come carry my body in a sarcophagus to a pyramid, and then to its heart. There in the pyramids heart she would prepare my body in scented and treated wrappings, for these rituals and wrappings would help to suppress the thirst. I would not be allowed to drink of the blood of humanity for more than a year. Instead I was raised with the kiss of her blood in my death trance walk. With every drink
of her blood, I felt her love, I felt unlike I ever did even as a godman, an Egyptian prince.
Every day she had her priests chant to me, and read to me papyri scrolls as I was bound by these raiment’s. These chants wrapped around me and through me, my body and mind wrapped and constructed within the fabric of these chants, this knowledge, magic and skill. These acolytes teachers of secret whispers that when I was to go to my father’s valley. I instead was in my mother’s womb again being recreated: in magic’s unknown to me would become me.
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Going Home By: Stephan Handbringer
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