None of the characters which appear in the following chapters belong to me.
They are the property of Stephen
Sommers and Universal Studios. I make no money, I mean no harm.
An AlternativeView.
by Marcher
Rated PG13
gama39@austarmetro.com.au
Summary. This collection of short stories pertain to the same series of events in The Mummy Returns. They are written from the persepective of the particular character, their view on the events surrounding them and the thoughts and desires which these provoke.
Part one: Ardeth.
In all his life he could remember only rare occassions when he had felt rain touch him. Hard driven torrents befitting the strength of his people in his unsparing land. Now, as he stood in the chilled night air he pulled his robes closer about himself in a useless effort to combat the incessant London drizzle. He couldn't help but make the comparison between the two lands. From what he new of the English and the little he had seen of their country, he believed the weather spoke volumes. The irritating nature of the rain was akin to the persistence of the British.
He stealthily broke away from Lock Nah and his corrupt soldiers to peer through the glass doors into the brightly lit library. "Ornate nonsense" he thought to himself "Such a fickle defence against the power which was about to intrude". He saw the boy first. He knew she had borne a child but had never seen him before this night. He wondered anxiously if the boy would survive the coming onslaught, how she would react if he didn't.
Raising his vision he caught sight of her for the first time in so many years. The image of her in her husband's arms twisted his heart, he was taken aback by his reaction. Of course this would be the case, she was his woman. Even from this distance he recognized the delight in her face. He mused on his own misfortune. His cold wife. His passionless marital bed. His seemingly endless and thankless duty, which was now in danger of ruin due to his lack of concentration. Lock Nah had burst his army into the house and Evelyn was struggling to resist them single handed. He rushed inside, thrown by how quickly O'Connell had vanished, or had he been so long lost in his own commiserations. She greeted him with exulted surprise, however he wasn't fool enough to believe it was anything other than relief to have someone beside her other than the child.
The struggle was finished as quickly as it had begun. He panicked! The boy was running from the house, calling for his father. He couldn't see her anywhere, couldn't hear her. They must have taken her, otherwise she'd be lying dead on the floor. He chased after the boy.
****
Again he watched ruefully as she pressed herself into her husband's arms. He had escaped with his life, thanks to her somewhat uncertain ability with a shotgun. He struggled to ascertain if he was jealous of O'Connell, or if he merely yearned for the same comfort. Whatever the case, he was unable to witness their affection any longer. He cast his eyes to the floor of the levelled bus and carefully tugged at the bloodstained robes which were clinging to his wounds. He vaguely noticed the absent-minded boy move towards the exit. Neither the O'Connell's nor himself were prepared for the abduction. It was with disbelief that he watched O'Connell chasing faceless men as they speeded his son away. It seemed impossible. They themselves, were barely able to outrun Imhotep's guards, so how did these men manage to keep pace?!
He didn't run beside O'Connell in his desperate and futile bid to reach his son. Instead he stayed beside her, hoping to offer some sort of peace, but she clung to the other one, her wasteful and dishonest brother. He and O'Connell shared a mutual respect for one another, but for the brother he could only feel apathy. He placed a hand to her shoulder and she barely noticed. Her eyes focused further down the road, her face strained with horror and disbelief as she watched her husband return without her son.
****
The black cab. Another luxury new to him. Despite the nature of the situation, he still took stock of all around him. He understood he may never return this way. These were stories for generations to come. The return journey was made in silence and as they approached the house, he wondered at the necessity of such a display of opulence.
His wounds were not overly severe but they were discomforting. He was offered aid and graciously accepted, following O'Connell through the house to a bathroom equiped with the medicines he needed. They spoke pointedly of their plan of action, both grasping the urgency required on either part, but it was obvious that the lengthy delay before their departure weighed heavily on O'Connell's shoulders. This man was his friend and, again it seemed, his brother in arms, but he was envious of this man's life. Watching him as he left the room to tend to his wife, even with the streak of sorrow in his voice, Ardeth would still readily trade places, if only to gain the desire to chase those who are dear to heart.
Evelyn could be heard sobbing from her bedroom. Ardeth closed the door behind O'Connell to tend to his wounds and stifle her cries.
****
He walked towards the stairs noticing the bedroom door ajar. Enough time had passed for them to assume him downstairs with the brother, even just to have forgotten his presence at all.
Still she wept, frustrated by bureaucratic delays. O'Connell's voice did not carry clearly into the hall but his tone suggested his attempt to calm her. He watched them through the space in the door, himself unseen in the darkness.
It was not his intent to pry, just that his thoughts froze him to the spot. His own marriage, vastly different in all respects. His destiny removed from his control before he learned to walk. His wife chosen by his grandfather, now long dead. His sworn duty pre-ordained from birth. The turmoil within himself never felt so inundating.
He watched them from his seclusion as they slipped into a primal desire induced by grief and an overwhelming hunger for stability. He watched as he lifted her to him and she favoured him with the grace his own wife sorely lacked. His long held, but silent desire for the wife of a friend re-kindled.
Shamefully he turned and continued towards the stairs with her sound falling behind him. It was all too much a stark reminder of his stale marriage, now into it's fifth year, still without sign of the apparent heir. He now discovered himself re-evaluating his countrymen's view of the westerner's weak lifestyle in comparison to his own desolate existence.
On the floor below them, he wandered from room to room looking for the brother. So much area for too few people. The flippant was nowhere to be found. He sat alone, in quiet contemplation and waited for the final hours to pass.
END
An AlternativeView.
by Marcher
Rated PG13
gama39@austarmetro.com.au
Summary. This collection of short stories pertain to the same series of events in The Mummy Returns. They are written from the persepective of the particular character, their view on the events surrounding them and the thoughts and desires which these provoke.
Part one: Ardeth.
In all his life he could remember only rare occassions when he had felt rain touch him. Hard driven torrents befitting the strength of his people in his unsparing land. Now, as he stood in the chilled night air he pulled his robes closer about himself in a useless effort to combat the incessant London drizzle. He couldn't help but make the comparison between the two lands. From what he new of the English and the little he had seen of their country, he believed the weather spoke volumes. The irritating nature of the rain was akin to the persistence of the British.
He stealthily broke away from Lock Nah and his corrupt soldiers to peer through the glass doors into the brightly lit library. "Ornate nonsense" he thought to himself "Such a fickle defence against the power which was about to intrude". He saw the boy first. He knew she had borne a child but had never seen him before this night. He wondered anxiously if the boy would survive the coming onslaught, how she would react if he didn't.
Raising his vision he caught sight of her for the first time in so many years. The image of her in her husband's arms twisted his heart, he was taken aback by his reaction. Of course this would be the case, she was his woman. Even from this distance he recognized the delight in her face. He mused on his own misfortune. His cold wife. His passionless marital bed. His seemingly endless and thankless duty, which was now in danger of ruin due to his lack of concentration. Lock Nah had burst his army into the house and Evelyn was struggling to resist them single handed. He rushed inside, thrown by how quickly O'Connell had vanished, or had he been so long lost in his own commiserations. She greeted him with exulted surprise, however he wasn't fool enough to believe it was anything other than relief to have someone beside her other than the child.
The struggle was finished as quickly as it had begun. He panicked! The boy was running from the house, calling for his father. He couldn't see her anywhere, couldn't hear her. They must have taken her, otherwise she'd be lying dead on the floor. He chased after the boy.
****
Again he watched ruefully as she pressed herself into her husband's arms. He had escaped with his life, thanks to her somewhat uncertain ability with a shotgun. He struggled to ascertain if he was jealous of O'Connell, or if he merely yearned for the same comfort. Whatever the case, he was unable to witness their affection any longer. He cast his eyes to the floor of the levelled bus and carefully tugged at the bloodstained robes which were clinging to his wounds. He vaguely noticed the absent-minded boy move towards the exit. Neither the O'Connell's nor himself were prepared for the abduction. It was with disbelief that he watched O'Connell chasing faceless men as they speeded his son away. It seemed impossible. They themselves, were barely able to outrun Imhotep's guards, so how did these men manage to keep pace?!
He didn't run beside O'Connell in his desperate and futile bid to reach his son. Instead he stayed beside her, hoping to offer some sort of peace, but she clung to the other one, her wasteful and dishonest brother. He and O'Connell shared a mutual respect for one another, but for the brother he could only feel apathy. He placed a hand to her shoulder and she barely noticed. Her eyes focused further down the road, her face strained with horror and disbelief as she watched her husband return without her son.
****
The black cab. Another luxury new to him. Despite the nature of the situation, he still took stock of all around him. He understood he may never return this way. These were stories for generations to come. The return journey was made in silence and as they approached the house, he wondered at the necessity of such a display of opulence.
His wounds were not overly severe but they were discomforting. He was offered aid and graciously accepted, following O'Connell through the house to a bathroom equiped with the medicines he needed. They spoke pointedly of their plan of action, both grasping the urgency required on either part, but it was obvious that the lengthy delay before their departure weighed heavily on O'Connell's shoulders. This man was his friend and, again it seemed, his brother in arms, but he was envious of this man's life. Watching him as he left the room to tend to his wife, even with the streak of sorrow in his voice, Ardeth would still readily trade places, if only to gain the desire to chase those who are dear to heart.
Evelyn could be heard sobbing from her bedroom. Ardeth closed the door behind O'Connell to tend to his wounds and stifle her cries.
****
He walked towards the stairs noticing the bedroom door ajar. Enough time had passed for them to assume him downstairs with the brother, even just to have forgotten his presence at all.
Still she wept, frustrated by bureaucratic delays. O'Connell's voice did not carry clearly into the hall but his tone suggested his attempt to calm her. He watched them through the space in the door, himself unseen in the darkness.
It was not his intent to pry, just that his thoughts froze him to the spot. His own marriage, vastly different in all respects. His destiny removed from his control before he learned to walk. His wife chosen by his grandfather, now long dead. His sworn duty pre-ordained from birth. The turmoil within himself never felt so inundating.
He watched them from his seclusion as they slipped into a primal desire induced by grief and an overwhelming hunger for stability. He watched as he lifted her to him and she favoured him with the grace his own wife sorely lacked. His long held, but silent desire for the wife of a friend re-kindled.
Shamefully he turned and continued towards the stairs with her sound falling behind him. It was all too much a stark reminder of his stale marriage, now into it's fifth year, still without sign of the apparent heir. He now discovered himself re-evaluating his countrymen's view of the westerner's weak lifestyle in comparison to his own desolate existence.
On the floor below them, he wandered from room to room looking for the brother. So much area for too few people. The flippant was nowhere to be found. He sat alone, in quiet contemplation and waited for the final hours to pass.
END