There is a legend. One as old as the universe itself, and spans many cultures on the planet called "Earth". A human's soul is immortal, living and learning throughout time. But, if one comes across their old body and touches a part of it, they will regain all memories of their past life. It is such a rare occurrence, but those who have remembered were once considered special, blessed by the gods. Some sought revenge for past transgressions, others became storytellers, while many kept it in their hearts. It was a precious gift, and a beautiful curse.
Now, after so much time has passed since our beginning, it is not shunned per se, but rather frowned upon to talk about it so openly. You're supposed to focus on the present, not live in the past. That became the mindset of the masses. But those who did remember found different ways to cope with having two lives within them: sex, drugs, alcohol, therapy, writing, drawing, music. So many ways to deal with the scars. Not wounded, but just slightly cracked
This is the story of one such person.
-samsāra-
Benjamin's silver eyes wandered around the museum, automatically following behind his parents as their tour guide led their group through the museum. Two years ago, archaeologists excavated the lost tomb of Ahkmenrah, a pharaoh from the twenty-fourth dynasty of Egypt, just before the Late Period began. It was only just now allowed to tour the world, with its latest stop in London.
The recreation of Ahkmenrah's tomb was near identical to how it was found: arched entryway leading into a vast room. The walls were covered in hieroglyphics depicting the pharaoh's life, several large statues of Anubis towering over the patrons, protecting their master even in death. Benjamin felt a tug in his gutt, looking towards the source of his sudden distress.
On the far wall away from the tour group lay the pharaoh's sarcophagus and canopic jars. While the others went to admire the treasures of the tomb, Benjamin walked over to the sarcophagus. The reds and blues instantly caught the young man's attention, since they were his father and mother's favorite colors. Though he knew it wasn't allowed, Benjamin felt compelled to touch the coffin. He let his fingertips touch the chest of the sarcophagus, right where a heart would be―
Ahkmenrah's golden skin was touched by the early morning light as he observed his kingdom. Though he had only been a few years since his father appointed him as his successor, Ahkmenrah was proud of what he had accomplished. His musings were interrupted by warm, sun-kissed arms wrapping around his waist from behind. He smiled, leaning back into the other's grip. "And good morning to you, my love."
The pharaoh turned around in their hold to observe his wife. Her hair was long and the color of the midnight sun, her skin sun-kissed, but what has always stood out to Ahkmenrah were her eyes, which were the color of molten gold. She smiled at this. "Am I not allowed to greet my husband?" she asked innocently, batting her eyelashes in a similar way to the ladies of the court. Ahkmenrah laughed, leaning in to kiss her, allowing himself to melt into her ―
Benjamin inaudibly gasped, wrenching his hand away from the sarcophagus. He breathed heavily, taking a moment to come to grips with what he just remembered. Backing away slowly, the young man kept quiet for the rest of the tour, hoping against all hope that his parents wouldn't notice his distress.
-samsāra-
Later that evening (long after his parents had gone to bed), Benjamin stared at himself in his bathroom's floor-to-ceiling mirror. Not much had changed in terms of his physical appearance. His skin was still a rich caramel due to his parents' Egyptian heritage (an irony not lost to him), eyes the color of steel, black hair, square jaw, strong cheekbones, stubble, lean build, strong shoulders.
Benjamin could go on, but he closes his eyes to the present. He breathes, allowing the darkness of his closed eyelids to help him focus better on the memory. The woman, his former wife, seemed suspiciously familiar. Not in the intimate way that Ahkmenrah had once known her, but in a way one knows an acquaintance.
The young man sighed, deciding to try and figure it out. He left his bathroom, heading to his closet to grab a clean pair of sleeping pants. Red and blue plaid tonight. Once he changed, Benjamin laid down in his bed. It was only on the verge of sleep that he remembered where he had seen those eyes before: they belonged to the international student in his literature class.
Makenna.
-samsāra-
Only fours days later was Benjamin proven true about where he had seen those eyes before. Makenna's form had not changed much since her last incarnation either. Her eyes were still as gold as the sun, and her hair a lovely ebony shade. Her skin was a few shades lighter, her nails painted black and her hair chin-length instead of down to her shoulder blades.
As if sensing that someone was staring at her, Makenna turned in time to catch his eye. Benjamin dropped his glance quickly, feeling a flash of heat run across his cheekbones. He waited a few moments before trying again.
Makenna was still looking at him, more curious than creeped out. Gold and silver stared each other down until their professor entered the room, forcing both students to focus on the lesson. They were currently studying Stephen King's On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft in order to prepare for an unknown writing assignment that would be given soon. Benjamin did his best to pay attention―
Ahkmenrah stared out at the crowd of people waiting to see himself, his eldest brother and their father, the pharaoh. The young prince forced himself to smile and wave. For the sake of his people, he would pretend he did not know any of the children, as if he did not sneak out every day (as if his parents did not know).
He was pulled from his thoughts by a commotion coming from within the crowd. The prince climbed off his horse, ignoring his father's protests as he enters the congregation, knowing the dangers but uncaring of the consequences. Ahkmenrah finally made it through to see a middle-aged merchant grab a boy, raising a hand to hit the boy. Before Ahkmenrah could move to intervene, a girl roughly his age stepped in, hitting the man in the face. The prince knew the man probably deserved it, but it didn't mean he liked the sound of the man's nose breaking. The man staggered back, and angry shout leaving his lips. Just as the merchant was about to retaliate, Ahkmenrah decided to intervene. "What is going on here?" Ahkmenrah asked, letting his voice sound commanding.
"The boy stole from me," the man spat, blood dripping from his nose. He did not acknowledge the prince's presence.
The girl looked at His Royal Highness. Her gold eyes met his silver eyes, and Ahkmenrah had to suppress the urge to shiver under those expressive eyes. "He did no such thing, Your Highness." When she said this, only then did the man acknowledge the prince, kneeling in the royal's presence. "My brother and I were raised to respect another's property. Besides, the one who actually stole the goods was much older than Nekure."
"Lies!" the man yelled, but remained in his position.
"And yet I find myself more inclined to believe her," Ahkmenrah replied coldly. He does not tolerate deception from vendors. "I am giving you the benefit of the doubt for now, but if I hear of your decit again, I shall have you punished. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Highness," the man begrudgingly agreed, glaring at the ground.
"Good," Ahkmenrah said, meeting the girl's grateful gaze―
"Excuse me?"
Benjamin blinked, looking up to meet Makenna's gaze. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. What did you say?"
Makenna smirked. "Figured that. Anyway, we need to partner up before he gives us our writing assignment. Wanna be mine?" Benjamin nodded in agreement instantly, causing Makenna to chuckle lightly. She took the now-unoccupied seat next to him, holding out a hand to him. "Makenna Danek, genuine New Yorker," she introduced with a smile.
"Benjamin Malek," the young man said, returning the smile and handshake. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Danek."
"Pleasure's all mine, Mister Malek," Makenna says, her smile growing wider at his formalness.
"Alright class," Professor McGee said, catching everyone's attention, "does everyone have a partner?" Everyone shouted an affirmative before the teacher continued. "This project will be independent of the rest of the class, and will be your final assignment due on the last day of class. You are to write a ten to fifteen page short story, along with a synopsis that you will share aloud with the class. They will be uploaded to our class site for your peers to read if they wish to, and a printed out copy for your old-schooled teacher." The class laughed. "We will have three in-class writing sessions, and one drafting session today. You and your partner will rely on each other for updates and peer-editing. I will take roll now, and let you get to know your partner. You have the rest of class to brainstorm ideas."
Once the professor was done calling attendance, the class became full of muted chatter. Benjamin waited for Makenna to speak first. He knew how to speak to her first incarnation as Ahkmenrah, but not as the young man he had become now. "So," Makenna said after a moment of companionable silence, "you've always been here? I know there's different accents for different areas in England, but I don't know them."
"No, it's fine," Benjamin said, smiling. "I was born and raised here in London. My parents immigrated here from Cairo before I was born."
"Cool!" Makenna said. "I used to be obsessed with Egyptology when I was a kid. I gave a book to my kid brother when he was five. I'd never seen a bigger smile on a kid's face before."
"You have a little brother?"
"Yeah. His name's Nicky. He's gonna turn eight in July."
"What is it like, having a younger sibling?"
"You an only child?"
"I have an older half-brother, from my father's first marriage."
"Ah. Well, it has its moments."
"Such as?"
"Well..."
The conversation went back and forth like this for the rest of the class. They were so caught up in their conversation that they were interrupted by the teacher announcing the end of class. Both blinked in unison before bursting into giggles. "I haven't talked that much in eons."
"Neither have I," Benjamin agreed, "Do you mind exchanging contact information? I don't know about you, but I have no idea what to write about."
"Honestly, same," Makenna said, grabbing her phone from her pocket, unlocking it. "Here, you can put your phone number and email in, and I'll bother you soon enough." Benjamin nodded, putting his info in before handing it back to its rightful owner. "You free sometime this week? Maybe we can go to the library and brainstorm different ideas? Google writing prompts and stuff?"
"I need to check my schedule, but I'm sure we can work something out," Benjamin said, packing up his things.
"I have psych class now, but I'll make sure to text you later," Makenna replied, throwing her backpack on. "See you around?"
"Of course. If you ever want a tour of London, let me know."
Makenna smiled, softer than the ones before, as if she were touched by his kind offer. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind. See you next time, Egypt," she said with a wink, exiting the classroom.
Though she does not remember their former life together, Benjamin was hopeful that they can have another one now.
The question was, should he help her remember their past lives, or should he alone carry that burden?
-samsāra-
"I knew London was beautiful, but I never would have found this little shop. You and the folks come here often?" Makenna asked. They were sitting in a small coffee shop the Friday after that first talked.
Benjamin nodded, taking a sip of his apple cider. "My father is a curator at the museum, and my mother a writer. This is actually where they first met."
"Awww," Makenna cooed, "that's so sweet. A nice meet-cute."
"Meet-cute?"
"It's a movie term. When future couples first meet each other."
"That sounds right. He accidentally tripped and spilled his coffee on her. They didn't actually go on their first date until she recognized him as her docent a few months later." Makenna chuckled, sipping her own drink. Benjamin hesitated before deciding to take the risk. "Do you know the mythos of reincarnation?"
Makenna paused, setting her mug down. "I don't know, to be perfectly honest. I've read some accounts out of curiosity, but the chances of it occurring are astronomical, so I doubt it will happen to anyone I know." A pause. "But something tells me that you're an exception to that."
"Yes," Benjamin confessed.
"Which is why you were staring at me the other day," Makenna deduced. Always observant. "You knew me in another life." Nod. "How did you know me?"
Benjamin took a deep breath. Moment of truth. "You were my wife."
Makenna nodded. "How?"
"As it would turn out, I was once the pharaoh Ahkmenrah," Benjamin said with a chuckle.
"Which would make me Queen Meresankh." Makenna rests her head in her hand, a contemplative look on her face. "Are any of her remains with him?"
"You don't need―"
Benjamin was cut off by Makenna's hands coming up to grasp his hands in her. "It doesn't seem fair that you remember when I don't. So, I'll ask again: were there any of Meresankh's remains excavated?"
Benjamin looked down at their entwined hands before forcing silver to meet gold. "Are you sure you want this?"
"We'll see in a few minutes how I feel," Makenna said, giving him a reassuring smile and squeeze of his hands.
"Then let me get us some refills to go," Benjamin said, raising an eyebrow when the young woman looked like she was about to argue. Makenna rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her already-growing fondness at his kindness. Once he returned with their to-go cups, Benjamin held an arm out to Makenna. It did its job: Makenna relaxed into a fit of giggles, standing and taking his arm to prevent herself from falling over in a fit of hysteria.
Benjamin was rather pleased with himself when they reached the museum a few minutes later. "Hello, Father," Benjamin greeted when he and Makenna entered and his father was near the ticketbox.
Jabare Malek looked up from his phone to see his youngest son enter the British Museum with a young woman. "Good afternoon, Benjamin. And who is this young lady?"
Said young lady gave Mr. Malek a blinding smile. "Makenna Danek, sir. Benjamin and I are in English class together."
Jabare shook her hand at her greeting, an eyebrow raising at her accent. "American?"
"Yes, sir. Born and raised in Brooklyn, New York."
"Fascinating," Jabare murmured.
"Father," Benjamin interrupted before his dad could ask her about the semantics of American culture. "I was wondering if I could give Makenna a private tour of Ahkmenrah's exhibit."
Jabare looked at his watch. "It has already closed for the day, but I trust you to be respectful for the dead."
"Of course, sir," was Makenna's automatic response. "We were simply hoping for inspiration. For our creative writing assignments."
"We won't be too long," Benjamin added.
"Ok. I trust you, son," Mr. Malek said, "and it was nice to meet you, Miss Danek."
"You as well." Benjamin and Makenna walked in silence until they finally arrived in the hall dedicated to the pharaoh. "Her coffin is on display next to her courtship gifts," Benjamin murmured, speaking quietly as to not spook her.
Makenna didn't seem to hear him, already walking towards Meresankh's sarcophagus. It was just as elegant as Ahkmenrah's. Makenna reached a hand out over the chest, pausing. She looked back to Benjamin, fear in her eyes. "You mind holding my hand?"
"Of course," Benjamin said, immediately grasping her other hand in both of his. He squeezed her hand before Makenna touched the heart of the sarcophagus. Her eyes glazed over, her breath inaudibly hitching. Benjamin observed her for the nest few moments, making sure she wasn't in her head for too long. Just as he was tempted to find some way to pull her out, Makenna wrenched her hand roughly away, practically falling into Benjamin. "Are you alright?" When he didn't get a response, he tried something else.
"Makenna."
Makenna looked up at him, eyes starting to clear. "Jesus fucking Christ."
"I thought you were Jewish," Benjamin joked.
This seemed to help Makenna calm down. "Sorry, it's just a lot to process."
Benjamin shook his head, moving a strand of hair out of her face. "Do not apologize for needing time. I am still reeling from the waves of memories I receive every day."
Makenna nodded, not breaking eye contact. "So... you still interested in getting to know me?"
"Always," Benjamin whispered, leaning down to capture her lips in their first kiss in this new life, Makenna responding instantly.
No matter the names they hold, the lives they live, these two souls were meant to be together.
-samsāra | Sanskrit | the cycle of death and rebirth to which life in the material world is bound-