Egypt in a Box

Egypt in a Box

With a clang the door of the abandoned storage unit swung open.

“It's been three years since she left me, two since she died. And this is all she bloody left to show for it” The father said with a grimace. “What a mess” the son said in dejected tone. “I told you we should have just handed this damned thing over to the lot owner for auction.” “I know dad I just… Its mom you know, and she was barely there for those last few years before she went missing. When I did talk to her she was always so absent minded, I just want to know what she was doing. What she was up to before she…”

“Looks to me she was having another episode” Father growled, gazing around the chaotic scene with hands on hips.

Empty water bottles, coffee cups and packaging littered every surface in the room “Is that a microwave?” The father said, pointing. “All the rubbish and tv dinner packaging, was she living in here?” The son responded, his old man cracked his neck over the back of the stubby repurposed bedside table “Microwave's hooked up to a damned car battery, two of em! Good god women is this how you were living?” the father said.

Underneath the rubbish, lay various oddly assorted items, a couch, stacks of papers and books. Many cardboard boxes were stacked against the walls, small and large, some sealed and some partially hanging open. One thing though, was recognizable to the son, his mothers work. A huge cork board pinned to the wall, full of pictures of various Egyptian gods, with string lines seeming to connect from the gods images to corresponding hieroglyph images, some of which had notes underneath them written in English. 'Partial translations?' He thought. Even if they were, they were written in handwriting that was more a scribble than legible wording. What could be made out, was clearly written in the manic way one writes, planning for it to be understood by only themselves later.

He did notice what appeared to be the central focus of the board, or at least the one that had the most lines to and from it. A picture depicting a god, appearing as a man with the head of a jackal. Underneath he could make out scribbled in seemingly extra jumbled fashion “Anubis” and beneath that “Guide of souls. Anpu. Help dogs? Give water, treats? Offer soul?” again underneath those was written “Path to underworld?”.

 Something strayed the son's vision from the notes, all the other cotton thread lines were of red coloring, but a green one was drawn from the central image of Anubis to another image. An image of a statue in a museum exhibit that appeared to depict the same god, scribbled underneath was “Met” for the metropolitan museum in New York.

He heard his father speak from behind, idly toeing at some of the boxes “She can’t have been living in here could she? Everything I did… And this, fucking. Box. She’d rather live in this than stomach a damned conversation with me…” “Dad I think it would be illegal for her to live in here… But you are right, it kinda does look like that” “Spent her nights here… Or at someone’s house, doesn’t damn matter.” “Dad you know it's not like she left you for another guy. Her work… I mean you know how much she cared about..” 

“WORK BE DAMNED, bloody woman never even was accepted in her work as you well know, ostracized in fact. She was a schizophrenic, undiagnosed but I know she was! Always going on about this or that part of spiritual this and gods that. Trying to recreate damned rituals from some civilization that worshiped bloody animal faced gods and moon gods. What a joke.”

Something made the son's breath leave his lungs. 'Is that… It can’t be.' To the right of the cork board, tucked into the darkest corner of the container and wrapped loosely in translucent plastic was… “Dad… Dad. You need to look at this.” "What is it?” The son stepped forward, raised his hand and pulled the plastic off. It was the very same statue from the picture at the Met museum. “My god, what’s that? Did she make that?” the father spoke, walking up from behind. “It's a museum piece, a real artifact” The son said in disbelief. 'She couldn’t have' The son thought. “Look dad, there's a picture on this board of it and I recognize the background from when she took me there when I was younger… It's a stolen statue from the Metropolitan Museum in New York, of the Egyptian god. Anubis.” 

“WHAT. You can’t be serious! She was off her rocker but to pull off something like that… No she couldn’t have, not in her state of delusion.” “Dad wait, this necklace around its neck, it's not in the photo on the wall. It looks, brand new…” As if it compelled him too, the son slowly raised his finger to the stunning green stone encrusted in the middle of the amulet “I don’t care about a damned necklace we need to call the police now” The father looked down, fumbling his pockets for his phone. The son's index finger met the gem, FLASH. 

He fell backwards, landing promptly onto the couch covered in rubbish but shot up again to his feet “DAD WAIT, The amulet!!” “Oh pipe down, where is that damn device urgg left the thing in my truck I think, hey do you have your ph…” “DAD, LISTEN TO ME” The son's eyes were locked on the jackal faced statues eyes as if it were about to lash out at him. “What is it more stolen..?” “The amulet, around that thing's neck, I SWEAR, it just glowed, BRIGHTLY, like a flash! In the green gemstone when I touched it, I swear it…” he was cut off.

The father looked at him, in the very same way the son remembered him looking at mother when she had one of her “episodes”. “Son… This, all of this… It's devil worship, I won't let it corrupt you too. WE ARE leaving. Now. NOW I SAID.”

“Dad I'm not..” “NOW! Lets go, get your phone out and look up the local station’s number”. Still awe struck, the son arose, slowly, eyes now glued on the gem, he touched it again. FLASH. This time he did not fall back in surprise. “Just wait, come here and look dad, it did it again, come see!” Begrudgingly the father walked over, looking the statue up and down ending with his chin raised as if to signify to the statue he was above such heathenism. “Look” the son touched it again, FLASH.

 “It's just a damn dollar store thing, the idiot probably got scammed out of god knows how much from some snake oil peddler telling her it was magic or something. It's just LED’s, cheap crap.” Father said, poking it himself. It did not flash. “Hmmph, things out of bat..” In an instant, so fast neither of them saw the actual movement. The statue’s plaster hand gripped around the fathers neck, almost lifting him from the ground. Its other hand was held with a finger outstretched, pointing at the entrance to the storage container.

“DAD!!!” The son, shocked by the scene, reeled in horror. The father squirmed, sputtered, clearly almost completely unable to breath, let alone move. In what felt like an eternity but was really only a few seconds, the sons thoughts first fled into thinking he was having a psychotic episode, the next instant his fathers words of “Devil worship!” echoed against the walls of his skull and then finally his thought’s landed on… 'Door, is it… Pointing at the door?'

Still not sure if the reality he looked upon was real, or just a very vivid dream or an episode like his mother had. The son spoke through bated and shuddering breaths “Do y y you… Want me… T to close the door?” FLASH, the amulet flashed brighter than before this time. The father swung his arms as if to say “NO DON'T”. The son, still facing the scene of surreal horror backed up while speaking to the statue “Ok, ok I'm doing that, just don’t hurt my dad. Let him go. Please.”. Still trying not to turn fully away, the son reached up, unlocked the handle, and slid the door fully closed. CLANG. Darkness. Not complete, he could still make out the two silhouettes at the other end of the container.

The statue let go, suddenly animated in fluid motion. Wringing its shoulders and swinging its arms as one would in warmup for a pickup sports match. Without missing a beat the second his father was let go he yelled “It's a damned demon!!! She summoned a demon COUGH From hell!!! COUGH COUGH”. He heard his father as he stumbled backwards into the corner opposite the now animated Anubis statue, muttering prayers “father, son, holy spirit, protect me from this hell creature”

The statue spoke with otherworldly gravitas “Ahhh finally, darkness, so much. Hehah hah, Better… Hey? Who are you two, where is Katrina? She didn’t finish the ritual without me did she? That witch… I swear if she did, she will engulf in Ra’s flames!”. Now the statue, done it's stretching and wringing, swung its Doberman-like snout back and forth between the two mortals who stared in awe. 

“You mortals, James son of Mark, and Mark son of… Mark… mmm not the most creative one your grandfather was James, and your father Mark.” The statue cleared his throat 'A statue. Just cleared its throat'. Somehow that was almost more absurd than the statue animating to life and talking. “No offense meant” It said with a short pause and continued “You Mark and James, have summoned me, emissary of Anpu, or Anubis as you may know him. What have you wish of me? What is your request?” Almost unconsciously, barely even actually intending this as the answer to jackal’s question the son spoke. “W… Where is my mother, where is Katrina'' A sly growl, like a dogs, seemed to erupt from all directions “You’re wish, I can accommodate, though you may not like the outcome. I will guide you on your way.”

No more sound, nothing, just blackness. The son got out his smartphone, turned on the light, and the statue… Was back in its original location, in its original pose, not animated, not speaking. “What in the hell and all of god's mercy was..” “I don’t know.. But you saw it too dad… Im not…” “No you’re not, I saw it too. I don’t I don’t know either, just…. Just open the door again and call the police after that.”

He opened the door, but it was dark outside, no harsh artificial lighting as before. And… Sand, the first thing that met his eyes, the ground outside was sand. As he opened the door to its entirety, what lay outside, was not what had previous… A sprawling desert of wavy dunes lay as far as the eye could see in every direction. It appeared night time yet everything was relatively bright. The entire sky was enveloped in such vivid and clear stars above, beset by true infinite blackness, the whole scene appeared fake, unreal… Or maybe… Too real.

'Is that… Mother?'

Clad in gold and white silk, skin covered head to toe in hieroglyphic tattoos was… 'A woman?... Katrina?!' The woman must have been 25 feet tall, her hair appeared to move as if it were alive. She spoke.

“Son, dear husband… YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE COME”