Chapter One
There's something wrong with me.
I know there is, they all tell me it's nothing, and they say it's in my head but I know better.
There's something terribly wrong with me.
I live with a monster, a monster who resides not only in my head but in my bed and my home, I cannot escape.
And do you know the scariest part?
I don't want to escape.
There's something wrong with me.
I'm in love with the Devil…
Satan incarnate is my lover, my mirror image, Lucifer himself, my lover, my master.
God looks down upon me in disgust and the angels gape and hide their eyes in horror at how we make love; they sob at our blood lust.
And my father is the only one I can blame.
***
The day he returned from Egypt, I was so excited I could have thrown up when I heard the door of his cab slam shut and the footsteps edging their way up the steps and towards the door, teasing and testing my will power to see how much I could take before retching all over myself.
My breath caught in my throat and my heart stopped at the clicking the locks made, my eyes, already big and puppy like, grew larger studying the figure that entered the house with anxiety riddled excitement.
"Father!" I cried, choking on my breath and the lump in my throat. He smiled calling my name as I had called his and threw his arms open inviting me into a long awaited embrace. Gladly, I fell into his arms flinging my arms around his neck holding tight as though he'd leave me again and never return. His arms, strong, muscled, tanned arms locked around my waist kept me in place against his body.
The smell of sand and heat filled my senses and as I closed my eyes and took in the scents it was almost as though I was there in Egypt, walking along the banks of the Nile, her waters crystal blue, sparkling under the bright sun, bare foot with sand squishing between my toes. I could feel the wind brushing through my silver hair and the sun kissing my porcelain skin, leaving it warm to the touch. The Pyramids and the Great Sphinx standing proud in all their golden stoned glory overlooking all of Egypt, Oh! How I could see them I know I could! What adventure awaited me within the tombs of the pharaohs? Who were these pharaohs and what were their lives like? I have such a love of history just the thought of being able to learn something so ancient made me boil with pleasure.
My father's strong hand stroking my hair breaks me from my day dreaming. "I've missed you Ryou." He whispers in my ear and I simply pull back to look at him with a smile on my face. I love my father and he was good to me, he loved me and that is all that matters.
"Did you bring a souvenir?" I asked excitedly.
Laughter was his initial response then he looked at me, as if surprised and said; "Was I supposed to bring you a souvenir?" I felt hurt and pouted, hanging my head slightly. "Yes, you promised." I murmured, surely I would have cried if he hadn't lifted my head and after planting a loving kiss to my lips and forehead he smiled. "Oh my little historian, I have indeed brought home presents for you. Please don't look so sad." He smiled more as my eyes lit up, a happy squeal falling from my mouth.
Gently he set me onto the sofa, as if I were a little boy; though I admit was I acting like one, and retreated from me towards his bags where he opened one of his suitcases and took out a medium sized bag. Usually my father would bring me one or two things home depending on where he went and if I listed anything specific to bring home or attempt to find. But this time, going to Egypt, he surprised me by bringing me back so much, not including the photographs that he took mind you. He knew that there were few countries that I loved to learn about and Egypt was above them all I figured that that was the reason he brought me so many presents. I could feel my stomach hurt in anxious waiting, would he please just hurry up and give me the gifts!
Finally my semi-patient wait was rewarded with the bag seated in my lap and my father taking up residence beside me, his arm around my shoulders. I took the biggest gift out first and tore the tissue paper from around it, I think when I saw it I gasped; it was indeed the most beautiful painting I had ever seen. The majestic and elegant Isis, her winged arms and delicate hands protecting the great Egypt, which was symbolized by a sparkling gold pyramid, and her face, I couldn't take my eyes off it. Her lightly tanned skin and long silken black hair; her beautifully crafted face smooth and flawless like a porcelain dolls and of course the intricacy of the jewelry and clothing adorning her was simply magnificent. I could tell the artist took great thought, time and effort into painting such a depiction of the Great Mother Goddess. I was in love with it.
My next gift wasn't as big as the painting but it was a bit heavy and as I tore the paper from the object I saw why. Smiling bright I ran my hand over the cover of the thick book resting in my lap. The Queen who would be King, a historical fiction based on the life of the female Pharaoh Hatshepsut. I was always very interested in the life of this woman and have read many books and watched many documentaries of this woman; she was indeed quite amazing both in her time and now. Can you imagine it? Egypt ruled by a woman? How absurd one may think but oh how it was so, Hatshepsut was a great Pharaoh and was all but erased from history. Across from Thebes, along the banks of the Nile is a three tired temple that stands proudly after being found underneath hundreds of tons of sand centuries after is construction. A reflection of the mortuary temple of Mentuhotep II, and happens to be constructed beside that eleventh-century structure though Hatshepsut's temple is much larger than that of Mentuhotep. The man who created such a glorious temple was also rumored to be the lover of the great female pharaoh; his name was Senmut who happened to be a member of her court with more than twenty titles.
This rumored love of Hatshepsut designed this temple with rows of colonnades which reflect the vertical patterns displayed by the cliff backdrop. In this way the temple could be a successful example of architectural harmony between nature and man. Amon and Hathor, Hatshepsut's claimed parents, were the gods to which the dedication of this temple goes to, although there are chapels dedicated to other gods such as Anubis, the god of embalming. The sanctuary lies within the mountainside. Two ramps connect the three levels, and on either side of the lower incline were T-shaped papyrus pools. On the ground level were sphinxes and fragrant trees from Punt. The sphinxes had the heads of Hatshepsut, and she is even depicted as a lion in some of the temple's reliefs. Although she has no specific enemies, she is represented clawing at her adversaries and capturing "birds of evil" with a clap net.
Since the construction of such a complex temple took about twenty years the walls were like blank pages that were filled in as her reign went one. They documented Hatshepsut's divine conception, her vote of confidence given by her father, her efforts to repair the damage inflicted by the Hyksos invaders, the expeditions to Punt and the erection of the colossal obelisks at the temple of Karnak. However, by the time the temple was finished, Hatshepsut probably had little time to enjoy it as Pharaoh.
Although Senmut had originally planned to be buried at the temple, Hatshepsut's tomb was destined to lie elsewhere. In the manner of her father, Tuthmose I, who realized a temple was too obvious a place to bury priceless artifacts, the tomb of Hatshepsut was constructed in secret. Inei, the architect who constructed the tomb and temple of Tuthmose I, prided himself in the knowledge that he was the only one to know the location of his master's tomb. The 100 "slaves" that built the tomb, according to Otto Neubert, were slain after the project to protect the secret of the tomb's location. It is not known whether this brutal technique was used in the case of Hatshepsut, but it is rather moot. Grave robbers were not the biggest enemy Hatshepsut had to worry about, but her own nephew, who would have no problem finding her tomb, no matter how many slaves died.
Senmut was rewarded handsomely for his work and was able to purchase a temple of his own not far from Hatshepsut's, in which was buried his minstrel and family, and even his favorite pet apes and horses. His mother Hatnofer was buried nearby as well. Around his mother's neck laid a scarab necklace, according to the prescription of the Book of the Dead. On the back of the pendant it is written:
Hatnofer says: heart of my mother, heart of my mother! Heart of my present form! Don't stand up against me in the council. Don't make me an opposition against me before the keeper of the scales of judgment. You are my life force in my body, my creator who makes my limbs sound. When you go to the good place to which we travel, don't make my name smell bad to the court of the living, so that it will go well for us and for the jury and so the judge will be happy. Don't tell lies against me beside the god. See: your own reputation is involved.
Despite being vandalized by Hatshepsut's foes and buried in sand for centuries, Senmut's masterpiece loses no splendor. It is an incredible expression of the power of a pharaoh, man or woman.
Ah, but enough with the history lesson, there were still presents to be opened! I set the book aside and pulled out the third and final gift that was nestled in the bag. This present wasn't wrapped in paper it was in a square box and when I opened the box there was another one, a case if you will. I felt myself getting excited as my fingers touched the dark stained wood, they moved along the sleek surface until they rested on the metal clasp.
It clicked and all breathing ceased.
I'm sure in some slow dramatic way I lifted the lid, my eyes grew two sizes as polished sparkling gold came into view, lighting my eyes so that they two were entertaining the gleaming of the gold. Lying in the velvet inlaid box was a golden ring with a pyramid and what I assumed to be the Eye of Horus in the middle, five long golden spikes dangled from the underside of the circle. I lifted the item from the velvet by the roped chain and looked it over. The ring wasn't heavy at all but kept gleaming in the light that showered down on it. It was indeed something very special and probably expensive; I wasn't even sure how my father could have afforded something as wonderful as this.
"Do you like it?" My father's voice tore me away from my racing thoughts.
Turning to him, nodding I set it back into the box and placed it onto the table before flinging my arms around his neck, hugging him. "I love it father, I love them all! Thank you so much, you spoil me!" I said pulling back and smiling.
"The merchant at the Bazaar told me that inside that ring, called the Sennen Ring; there is an ancient and evil spirit over five thousand years old who, in an act of thievery, was suddenly trapped within the ring by the Pharaoh himself. Each year he sits within the confines of the ring until the day he is released plotting his revenge and burning inside with hatred."
Tilting my head I giggled and shook my head. "That's absurd, father! It's nothing but a silly myth." He planted a kiss on my nose and slid some of my hair behind my ears so that he could better see my face. As much as I hated when people did that to me I allowed him to do so, he'd gone away and came home so I'd let him do just about anything he wanted. "Of course it is Ryou; I thought you'd enjoy it though." He said kissing my forehead lovingly. And I did enjoy the story, but I did have to admit, not to my father of course, that it was a little chilling.
We sat together, I on top of him for what seemed like forever until I broke the silence. "I missed you father."
He sighed, his forehead pressing against mine. I hated it when he sighed like that, it usually meant that there was something he needed to tell and I usually didn't enjoy what he had to say. "And I missed you, Ryou." He finally said but I knew he was holding back what was on his mind. In silence we sat like this, me on his lap, our foreheads pressed together enjoying the moment of our reunion.
Oh, how I missed him.
Many would look at our relationship as a forbidden one, almost incestuous and most would call social services on him if they could see us now. He wasn't like that though we just happened to be rather close, strictly a father son relationship. My mother passed away when I was only seven and since then my father and I grew closer and closer together, after all, we only had each other.
Calloused fingers slid though my hair slowly and another sigh was heard escaping from the lips of my father. "You will have to miss me more, Ryou…" Ah so there was his confession, I didn't say anything, letting him continue. "I will be leaving tomorrow afternoon, there's an archaeological dig in Mexico that I'm scheduled to go on. Unfortunately they pushed the date of the dig up further than I thought. I'm really sorry."
I pulled back from him, clearly upset. I couldn't believe that he was doing this! Once more he was going to leave me alone in this house while he gallivanted in the dig sights of rural Mexico discovering fascinating new things that historians and other such people will analyze and document. All this right after he arrived home from Egypt, I didn't even have a week to hang out with him and enjoy his presence before he hopped on a plane once again! Ohh I felt the anger burning my blood, I wanted to glare at him and slap him, spit and yell, demand him to call the head archaeologist and tell him or her that he wasn't going to go to Mexico because he needed to spend time with his son. Although, I knew that he wouldn't do such a thing. That was the way he was, unless it was some sort of urgent family emergency, which was rare, there wasn't any way he'd not dare back out on a commitment he made.
I suppose that it's a good example for me that I should always keep my commitments but sometimes, one needs to stop making commitments and start thinking about their loved ones who need them. And I needed him, not his letters and his emails; not his pictures and his phone calls, I needed him in his physical form, I wanted him like we were now, face to face where I could touch his face and kiss his lips and embrace him. He didn't seem to comprehend that and this fact alone only fueled my frustration and anger.
Suddenly I was pulled into a kiss, my father new that I was upset it must have been written all over my face as plain as day.
"I really am sorry…" he whispered. "Why don't the two of us go out for dinner and a movie, hm?" I smiled at the suggestion, but only a little bit, I was trying to make an effort to be happy with the time that I had with him while he made an attempt to comfort me in my irritation.
"Okay, dinner and a movie it is." I agreed not wanting the rest of the time we had together to be filled with anger and sorrow.
Smiling he pat my thighs and shifted, sliding me off his lap. "Take your things to your room and get changed, I'm going to take a quick shower and change as well." He said to me gathering his luggage and dragging it up the stairs to his bedroom. For a moment a stood in the middle of the room, looking around me, I would be alone again for god only knows how long.
Sighing and gathering my presents I proceeded up the staircase to my bedroom. Upon reaching it I turned on my lamp which sat on my desk and placed my things on my bed. I knew the perfect place to hang the picture of Isis but I would have to put it up tomorrow so I instead set it on my desk and placed the book on my bookshelf. A place for the golden ring eluded me, I could probably hang it on my wall but I would have to do that tomorrow as well. Therefore I set the box near the picture of Isis on my desk before getting myself ready for dinner and the movie.
It came as no surprise when I entered back into the living room that I was the first one to be ready, my father had to take a shower before he could think about what he was going to wear. While I on the other hand only needed to find some new clothes, wash my face, brush my teeth and bush my hair. Running my fingers through my hair I walked to the sofa and seated myself on the cushions, laying back I waited for my father to come down.
My arm covered my eyes once they had closed and there on the sofa I rested, enjoying the faint sound of my father rushing around the get ready upstairs. At least it wasn't complete and utter silence. Complete silence was unsettling and often created the perfect situation for me to become as paranoid as a squirrel on drugs, so to keep me from going out of my mind I played a lot of music or just left the television on even though I may not have been watching it at the time. Just so long as there was some sort of sound, faint or loud, I would be alright, I could read, eat, sleep and everything else in relative peace.
I guess I was lost in my own little world, I didn't even hear my father's footsteps when he came down the stairs. He was leaned over the back of the sofa looking down at me with a warm smile. "Are you ready Ryou?" He asked.
At the sound of his voice I removed my arm from my eyes and looked up at him. He didn't look so rugged now that he had a shower and was all cleaned up, it didn't appear as though he just stepped out of the desert after six months.
Smiling, I nodded, slowly sitting up before standing to my feet to walk around the sofa. "Yes, I'm ready. You look nice father."
"Well, I'd hope after a shower and a shave that I look fairly decent." He told me with a chuckle as he pulled on his coat. Shaking my head I did the same, shrugging my long coat onto my body and buttoned it up. The drive to the restaurant was a silent one, save for the car radio sputtering Japan's most popular music. My father didn't mind listening to this kind of music and by this kind I mean pop, rock, R&B, dance and whatever else, but he preferred to listen to the traditional Japanese music like the flutes, shamisen, koto and those types of instruments. While beautiful it didn't hurt to spice things up a little bit and branch out and sample the other music that was out there.
My father had always been that way though, instrumental music was the way to go it was tradition and classic there was no need for words you could feel the powerful emotion that the musicians wanted to express through their skillful compositions. However, there was also great power in voice, when you are singing something that you can connect to there is a greater chance that others will to because they can feel the strong emotion in the voice and that only amplifies the heart gripping lyrics. I often listen to instrumental music while reading or studying or even cooking and cleaning, there are great benefits to listening to such music and the calming effect it brings to your mind and body is one of them.
***