AN: Okay, so I know I'm in the process of writing another vic, and I told myself I would do one fic at a time, but this fic just won't leave me alone, and so I decided after a spurt of energy that I should at least try and crack a chapter out if I could. ALSO, I tried so hard to name my new main character, Alex, something else. I did. I pictured so many other names to use, especially since Alexandria is the main character in my other fic. But alas, no other name would work. Alex is the absolute perfect name for this new character, whom I already love even though I haven't penned (typed them, rather) to paper yet. I also tried to be clever and name all the reincarnated characters names that the actors had actually used in other roles. It'll make sense later. ALSO be warned, LOTS of foul language will be used. Lots. This character is like the filthy sass queen You have been warned.

Anyway, enjoy! Any follows, reviews, or comments at ALL are appreciated and most welcome!

Also, I don't own anything you recognize, as sad as that sounds. But I would. I so would.

The following is a voice recording from September 4, 2013.

Okay, I don't even know where to begin with this crap, honestly. I mean, so much shit has happened to me in the past few months that laying it all out for some stranger to listen to just seems unnecessary, especially since the Medjai have already conducted interviews with all those involved (who are still alive. You'd be surprised how hard it is to reach those in the Underworld once the chaos has calmed down) but Farik keeps telling me every chance he gets that "You must honor the wishes of the gods, Alex. If they desire it, so you should act on it." No, those are not my words; that's his exact wording. I shit you not. And when you hear it from the same guy like fifteen times every goddamn day it's sorta hard to ignore. And I mean yeah, he's right, the gods have given me so much I guess I do really owe them. Oh yeah, spoiler alert, which I guess I should give on occasion: Egyptian gods exist. There. Now you know. No need for speculation or wars anymore, people, there is officially life after this one!

Okay so now that I've dropped a truth bomb (hopefully your mind isn't a blank slate and you're not a vegetable now), where do I start with this shit? I mean yeah, some authors tell you to start from the end and then work from the beginning, or start in the middle. In medias res and all that. But I'm not an author I'm just a young adult sitting in a room with no windows, only one chair at a table with one piddly glass of water for company. Farik is outside for protection, but didn't want to interfere with my "genuine storytelling ability." Which apparently I have? I mean I guess I told some good stories around the Medjai campfires…

Anyway, I guess I should start with when I was young. Okay, younger than 21, which is still pretty damn young. Maybe not in Ancient Egypt, but definitely today. Okay so I guess I should start about…third grade or so. That's the earliest memory I have of Egypt. In this lifetime anyway…

Shut up, Alex. Stop fucking getting ahead of yourself!

Okay, so I was always the really weird little brown-skinned girl who sorta kept to herself in elementary school, and who got in trouble simply because she was reading when the teacher was lecturing. Anyway, I remember we were reading a book in Mrs. Simmons' third grade class. Okay, she was reading to us, cause we barely knew how to read beyond Junie B. Jones and Charlotte's Web at that point, but about halfway through the year she decided she would read us the novelization of the Prince of Egypt out loud to us. Damn good movie-the Egyptians are actually people of color! Who knew? And I gotta admit, It was sorta weird reading the book aloud, because you know, half of that movie is musical numbers.

But I just remembered that Mrs. Simmons reading that book aloud was my favorite part of the day, and actually my favorite part of that whole school year. It was right after lunch when she did it, and her room always had that really awesome and delicious smell of recently eaten lunch food that you would think would be a shitty smell (like when you leave hot food in your car for a while. Gross) but never was. At least to me it never was.

Anyway, that book was the first book that ever truly introduced me to Egypt. I mean I'm sure I'd heard the name here and there, maybe at a random church service or in second grade geography, but I hadn't really been properly introduced. But when Simmons read the word I would always mouth it right after, cause I loved the way my mouth felt when I said it. Egypt. Sure it's the Greek version of it (Kemet is the Ancient Egyptian version of it, you're welcome), but it's just such a fun word to say. Even just the word on my tongue at such a young age felt right somehow. In fact, I couldn't stop saying the word. I said it over and over, at lunch, where I would just sit there and draw stuff, and on the bus, where I would just sit and stare out the window.

Not only was the story of the Prince of Egypt fascinating, but the description of the setting was fascinating as well. It was like a sandy mysterious land filled with beauty and drama and death and revenge. Sometimes, when Simmons wasn't around and none of the other kids in my class were around to tattle on me, I would take the book off her desk and smell it and look at the pictures in the middle. You know what I'm talking about. The really cool novelizations of children's movies with the glossy color pictures in the middle that had stills from the film. I would look at those and study them until I memorized them. I would go home and draw them. And I didn't focus on Moses and the bush or any of that. I focused on the Egyptian stuff. Ramses. Moses pre-Godspell. All the hieroglyphics (I called them pretty pictures when I was younger) and the eyeliner and the temples and sand. All that sand. I was pretty shitty at drawing and that hasn't changed much. But I didn't care. I had to get those images to paper.

Cause there was something about Egypt. It just felt. I mean, I guess I could say like home. It just felt right. Like I belonged there. Or had belonged there. Which didn't make sense to me. Like I don't know, like I said I wasn't religious, but I remembered all those nice posters that teachers had on the walls that basically proclaimed YOLO (You Only Live Once, in case anyone listening to this has lived under a fucking rock for the past few years) and religious kids in school always said stuff like that too cause apparently that's what Jesus said or something. But I personally didn't hear about the idea of reincarnation until sixth grade, when the internet was my best friend and I used it too look up "When you feel like you've been somewhere before."

I got plenty of hits for deja vu, but I knew this feeling wasn't it. Cause I mean usually deja vu is something that happens in this lifetime. So finally I found a page with the concept of "reincarnation," and I knew I'd hit the jackpot. I just remembered reading about it through my horrific glasses that it turns out I didn't even need (fucking doctors, always trying to sell you their products), and smiling because yeah, I figured that might be an explanation for this feeling.

And I kept that feeling with me for years. I mean, I didn't necessarily actively research it 24/7 but I did look it up from time to time. It was just something that I kept in the back of my mind, like facts about myself. "Hi, I'm Alex Thompson, I've got hair so dark Edgar Allen Poe's raven would be proud, I've got what Leslie Knope calls an 'ambiguous ethnic blend,' I've got a mouth like a sailor and I feel a connection to Egypt that I can't 100 percent explain. Nice to meet you."

End of recording