Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
She snorts. “Reassuring.”
My smile is cruel. She really has no idea what her future holds, but one thing I can guarantee—there will be a lot of touching.
Something dark swirls in my soul, I embrace it and inhale the sea air, tasting the particles on my tongue of all the many animals that live in the water along with the death and destruction that lingers just below the surface, if I close my eyes I know I’ll see the souls, begging to be set free from the depths of the underworld. Cleo is already looking around again as we walk, completely oblivious to my thoughts and that of those around her as people give us a wide berth and look at her like she’s meant to be worshipped. She doesn’t seem to notice it. She’s solely focused on her brother, as well as herself. Yes, this one is definitely different. Maybe I’ll try to keep her longer than usual. Though I know I can’t, it’s a nice little fantasy, selfishly taking something for no other reason then I find it fascinating, rather than giving it away for the betterment of myself and the world.
She’s quiet the rest of the way to the museum her brother had been working with giving me time to actually look at her. I can’t see her different eyes, but I can see her side profile. She doesn’t smile often from what I’ve seen but when she does, it feels like the sun is shining down on you. Her smile is wide and free when she decides to show it. Her eyes are big and expressive, her dark eyebrows are often in a pondering slant like she’s asking internal questions about everything she sees, and she’s taller than average, around five foot ten. Typical, for someone like her. Her eyes widen as she points. “Is that it?”
Her excitement is tangible.
“Yes, it is. The building was transformed from a Christian church into a pagan ritual house before finally converting to the Egyptian Mythology Museum, to this day historians believe up to three hundred bodies are buried in the catacombs, though the last person who ventured in there never came out, we’ve closed them off since.”
Cleo stops walking and looks at the ground beneath her. “Why would they bury them under the ritual house? I thought ancient Egyptians did burials or cremation, wasn’t it believed that once you wrote your name in The Book of the Life for your family line you were granted one spell to help escort you to the afterlife? If you don’t have a burial then you don’t get your name written down and you don’t reincarnate.”
I smile down at her; it’s always fascinating to hear stories about yourself. “Some situations called for certain burials yes, but I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” I crook my finger toward her.
We stop walking, she leans in.
I smile at her eagerness and whisper, “You never truly die.”
She jerks back and frowns, though her smile is still present, the confusion is written all over her face. People hate being reminded they’re temporary, which is hilarious since they truly aren’t, they’re just…recycled. “You sleep.” I add, “You sleep for a long time and maybe you sleep forever, maybe you’re chosen to do something you never did in your first life. Haven’t you ever wondered about certain birthmarks, memories being passed down of places you’ve seen but never visited? I’m not saying I believe all of it.” I do actually, because of who I am, but scaring her this early on does nothing for any of us, I already traumatized her enough with the vampires and fallen angel talk. “But I find it interesting that humanity is so worried about death that they forget to focus on the gift they’ve been given—life.”
“Not everyone is like that, some of us focus on life.”
We start walking toward the steps. Even though it’s freezing, the sun burns down toward us, stretching its rays and reminding me yet again of the time and what’s to come. “And you?” I ask her. “Do you focus on life?”
Her cheeks flush pink. “I try as much as I can. Sometimes you can only take it a day at a time though, you know?”
“Your days as a human are limited.” I may be a monster but I’m always honest. We stop in front of the stairs as a crow flies over head, circling us, then the museum. I count the circles. Six times.
Even creation knows.
If only people were more observant of their surroundings. Ptah, one of the creators is watching and warning me. She’s the last, stay focused, do your job.
Cleo grabs my arm. “What do you mean my days are limited?”
I frown. “Cleo, everyone’s days are, you’re human.”
“So are you,” she says quickly as if to reassure herself.