If Tears Were Wishes And Other Short Stories Read Online Free Page B
Author: Ruth Nestvold
hit her again.
The soldiers in their sandals and capes, armed with long spears and oval shields, herded the robed priests and priestesses into a circle next to the Mammisi, jabbing at their legs and feet for fun. An old priest ineffectually tried to bar the wide entrance to the Temple of Isis, but a laughing soldier slit his throat, and the blood ran down the stairs of the temple to pool at the feet of a priestess. Her short, sharp screams rent the peace of the early morning in the middle of the blue of the Nile and the green of the palms and the sandy beige of the stones.
Haley dropped to her knees in the courtyard between the first pylon and the Temple of Isis. She felt sick, the metallic smell of blood drowning out the fresh smell of morning. What was the matter with her?
A security guard in a blue uniform leaned down and took her elbow, and then suddenly Ahmed was also by her side, murmuring soothingly, telling her of the bed waiting for her on the ship, pressing a bottle of water to her lips, scolding gently, suggesting she should see a doctor.
She had to agree.
****
My son tells me she studies the old way of writing, the hieroglyphs, that she can read the lives of those who are long dead in this valley. His voice is full of life when he says this, his eyes glow and his hands move more quickly. He thinks that means she understands us, understands him, can share more with him than a woman who wears the veil.
He does not see that the symbols and their language are there to hide behind, not to reveal.
But he is closer. He will understand someday.
****
The sandy dog had adopted her. Haley found it comforting, although she knew she might just be mixing the beasts up — there were so many skinny, middle-sized, sandy strays on the streets of Luxor.
But her little short-hair had dark paws and floppy ears, and she was almost sure she would recognize him wherever he showed up. Today he was following her through the Temple of Luxor, while she tracked down the less-than-knee-sized statues of Nefertari next to her husband Ramses II. Perhaps the sandy stray was her guardian angel — she'd had no more hallucinations since returning from the Nile cruise.
Or maybe it was the hat the doctor had told her to wear.
"What should I name you, beastie?" Haley asked, scratching behind the floppy ears. "Anubis? But he's black and has pointy ears and is a god of death. You're not black, and I've had enough reminders of death recently." She caught sight of the hieroglyph for "dog" on a nearby wall. "That's it, you will be 'Uher.' Can you deal with that, dog?"
The newly christened Uher wagged his tail.
Haley rose, pushed a damp strand of hair behind her ear and looked around for Ahmed's tour group. He had a new one this week, British this time, and he'd said he'd be here today. She looked forward to seeing his dark eyes and ready smile, found herself slightly nervous at the thought. She couldn't get over what a complete gentleman he was, how much he seemed to respect her, and that charmed her more than nearly anything else.
As she wandered through the courtyard of Ramses, the stray trailing faithfully behind her, Haley caught sight of Ahmed and smiled. He was giving a lecture on hieroglyphs — probably in front of a cartouche of Ramses, the clue which had led Champollion to crack the code.
Sure enough, Ahmed was just wrapping up Young's initial attempts to apply the Rosetta Stone to the Egyptian language as she came within hearing distance. He was so caught up in his tale that he didn't see her.
"When he was only ten, Champollion was told no one could interpret the cryptic writing which covered the Egyptian antiquities. The boy decided then that he would one day solve the mystery."
Although it was the end of February and not yet 10:00 a.m., hot dust rose around them. Haley slipped unobtrusively into the back of Ahmed's tour group.
"Champollion used Young's technique to decipher several cartouches, but names like Alexander
The soldiers in their sandals and capes, armed with long spears and oval shields, herded the robed priests and priestesses into a circle next to the Mammisi, jabbing at their legs and feet for fun. An old priest ineffectually tried to bar the wide entrance to the Temple of Isis, but a laughing soldier slit his throat, and the blood ran down the stairs of the temple to pool at the feet of a priestess. Her short, sharp screams rent the peace of the early morning in the middle of the blue of the Nile and the green of the palms and the sandy beige of the stones.
Haley dropped to her knees in the courtyard between the first pylon and the Temple of Isis. She felt sick, the metallic smell of blood drowning out the fresh smell of morning. What was the matter with her?
A security guard in a blue uniform leaned down and took her elbow, and then suddenly Ahmed was also by her side, murmuring soothingly, telling her of the bed waiting for her on the ship, pressing a bottle of water to her lips, scolding gently, suggesting she should see a doctor.
She had to agree.
****
My son tells me she studies the old way of writing, the hieroglyphs, that she can read the lives of those who are long dead in this valley. His voice is full of life when he says this, his eyes glow and his hands move more quickly. He thinks that means she understands us, understands him, can share more with him than a woman who wears the veil.
He does not see that the symbols and their language are there to hide behind, not to reveal.
But he is closer. He will understand someday.
****
The sandy dog had adopted her. Haley found it comforting, although she knew she might just be mixing the beasts up — there were so many skinny, middle-sized, sandy strays on the streets of Luxor.
But her little short-hair had dark paws and floppy ears, and she was almost sure she would recognize him wherever he showed up. Today he was following her through the Temple of Luxor, while she tracked down the less-than-knee-sized statues of Nefertari next to her husband Ramses II. Perhaps the sandy stray was her guardian angel — she'd had no more hallucinations since returning from the Nile cruise.
Or maybe it was the hat the doctor had told her to wear.
"What should I name you, beastie?" Haley asked, scratching behind the floppy ears. "Anubis? But he's black and has pointy ears and is a god of death. You're not black, and I've had enough reminders of death recently." She caught sight of the hieroglyph for "dog" on a nearby wall. "That's it, you will be 'Uher.' Can you deal with that, dog?"
The newly christened Uher wagged his tail.
Haley rose, pushed a damp strand of hair behind her ear and looked around for Ahmed's tour group. He had a new one this week, British this time, and he'd said he'd be here today. She looked forward to seeing his dark eyes and ready smile, found herself slightly nervous at the thought. She couldn't get over what a complete gentleman he was, how much he seemed to respect her, and that charmed her more than nearly anything else.
As she wandered through the courtyard of Ramses, the stray trailing faithfully behind her, Haley caught sight of Ahmed and smiled. He was giving a lecture on hieroglyphs — probably in front of a cartouche of Ramses, the clue which had led Champollion to crack the code.
Sure enough, Ahmed was just wrapping up Young's initial attempts to apply the Rosetta Stone to the Egyptian language as she came within hearing distance. He was so caught up in his tale that he didn't see her.
"When he was only ten, Champollion was told no one could interpret the cryptic writing which covered the Egyptian antiquities. The boy decided then that he would one day solve the mystery."
Although it was the end of February and not yet 10:00 a.m., hot dust rose around them. Haley slipped unobtrusively into the back of Ahmed's tour group.
"Champollion used Young's technique to decipher several cartouches, but names like Alexander
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