Hope you all liked the first chapter. The end was a bit abrupt though.
We'll get back to Alex later; for now we're going to Alexandria's life for
a chapter.
CHPATER TWO: Answered
Many thousands of miles away from where Alex O'Connell was doing chores/begging his parents to let him travel to Egypt alone, Alexandria was cleaning up the small living room which was part of an apartment salvaged from a tomb and moved aboveground. Her adoptive mother Meela barked at her to hurry up from the other room. Len Gabor, her mother's current boyfriend, was coming to visit, and everything had to be just so.
Sighing, the fifteen-year-old leaned on the broom she was sweeping the floor with and wiped her forehead. She would have complained if this hadn't always been her life. She knew nothing else but these two dusty rooms, the ever-snapping Meela and the sneaky Len. For a while, about eight years ago, both Meela and her boyfriend at that time, Imhotep, a strange man with a mystical demeanor and a shaved head, had disappeared for a time. Only Meela had returned.
But when they were gone, Alexandria (named for a random Egyptian city) had felt strange, somewhat indescribable twinges in her mind. It reminded her of something that she had forgotten and couldn't remember, like the schedule of what she was supposed to clean for that day-only even more pressing. These twinges had brought different emotions at different times, mainly fear and, at one point, suffocating grief during Meela's absence. Now when she got these vibes, they brought random feelings such as excitement or disappointment.
These oddities were the only solace in her dull life. There was a life, a destiny, for her out there, out away from this all. She knew it. This hadn't always been her life-Meela had let it slip a few years ago that she was adopted; from whom and where Alexandria could only guess. She knew that she wasn't Egyptian-she looked like she was English or American. But with all of Meela's diverse boyfriends coming and going, it was hard to find out what her original accent was. Meela had never, and probably would never, tell her of her true nationality.
A knocking on the weak wooden door brought her out of her reveries. There was no need to check who it was first-there was only one person it could be. She opened the entrance and, sure enough, the scrawny Len stood there with his freaky grin.
"Hey, Alexandria," he greeted. "How's things?"
"Same old, same old," she sighed, stepping aside to let him in. "Don't tell Meela I said that."
Len smiled. He did look freaky, and he was sneaky and rude sometimes, but Alexandria often found him to be the only person she could confide in. "Another one of those clean-all-this-junk-up days?" he asked, gesturing to the clean room.
"Of course. Anyway, Meela's moping in her room."
Grimacing, the boyfriend took off his coat, laid it on the couch, and headed into the storm that was sure to be one of Meela's temper tantrums. Alexandria laid down her broom as the first sounds of fighting emaciated from the next room, taking the feather duster and cleaning off the ever- messy bookshelves near the front door.
Grabbing a chair to give herself a boost up to the tallest shelf, she dusted off the books and plants that stood there. Moving a potted cactus to dust underneath, she saw something glossy fall to the floor.
"Hmm." she muttered, hopping down from the chair and picking the object up. It was like nothing she had ever seen before: a shiny picture of actual people, only it wasn't a painting. Hadn't she heard of these things? A phot- -photo-photograph. Yes, that was it, a photograph.
In the picture, there were three people smiling happily. A handsome young man, a beautiful woman, and-Alexandria's throat tightened-a small boy who looked exactly like she had when she was younger, only with blond hair. The two others also looked like she could be . . . related. Related to . . . them.
When one grew up with someone as skeptical as Meela, one didn't believe in fairy tales. Yet as Alexandria gazed upon the family, she thought that the answer to all her wishes might come true.
Quickly listening at the door to the other room to make sure Meela and Len would be occupied for quite a while, Alexandria grabbed a coat (unnecessary in Egypt, but where she might travel it could be colder) and her few belongings, including the photograph. She left posthaste. The teenager had no idea where she was headed, but it had to be better than where she was.
It had to be.
CHPATER TWO: Answered
Many thousands of miles away from where Alex O'Connell was doing chores/begging his parents to let him travel to Egypt alone, Alexandria was cleaning up the small living room which was part of an apartment salvaged from a tomb and moved aboveground. Her adoptive mother Meela barked at her to hurry up from the other room. Len Gabor, her mother's current boyfriend, was coming to visit, and everything had to be just so.
Sighing, the fifteen-year-old leaned on the broom she was sweeping the floor with and wiped her forehead. She would have complained if this hadn't always been her life. She knew nothing else but these two dusty rooms, the ever-snapping Meela and the sneaky Len. For a while, about eight years ago, both Meela and her boyfriend at that time, Imhotep, a strange man with a mystical demeanor and a shaved head, had disappeared for a time. Only Meela had returned.
But when they were gone, Alexandria (named for a random Egyptian city) had felt strange, somewhat indescribable twinges in her mind. It reminded her of something that she had forgotten and couldn't remember, like the schedule of what she was supposed to clean for that day-only even more pressing. These twinges had brought different emotions at different times, mainly fear and, at one point, suffocating grief during Meela's absence. Now when she got these vibes, they brought random feelings such as excitement or disappointment.
These oddities were the only solace in her dull life. There was a life, a destiny, for her out there, out away from this all. She knew it. This hadn't always been her life-Meela had let it slip a few years ago that she was adopted; from whom and where Alexandria could only guess. She knew that she wasn't Egyptian-she looked like she was English or American. But with all of Meela's diverse boyfriends coming and going, it was hard to find out what her original accent was. Meela had never, and probably would never, tell her of her true nationality.
A knocking on the weak wooden door brought her out of her reveries. There was no need to check who it was first-there was only one person it could be. She opened the entrance and, sure enough, the scrawny Len stood there with his freaky grin.
"Hey, Alexandria," he greeted. "How's things?"
"Same old, same old," she sighed, stepping aside to let him in. "Don't tell Meela I said that."
Len smiled. He did look freaky, and he was sneaky and rude sometimes, but Alexandria often found him to be the only person she could confide in. "Another one of those clean-all-this-junk-up days?" he asked, gesturing to the clean room.
"Of course. Anyway, Meela's moping in her room."
Grimacing, the boyfriend took off his coat, laid it on the couch, and headed into the storm that was sure to be one of Meela's temper tantrums. Alexandria laid down her broom as the first sounds of fighting emaciated from the next room, taking the feather duster and cleaning off the ever- messy bookshelves near the front door.
Grabbing a chair to give herself a boost up to the tallest shelf, she dusted off the books and plants that stood there. Moving a potted cactus to dust underneath, she saw something glossy fall to the floor.
"Hmm." she muttered, hopping down from the chair and picking the object up. It was like nothing she had ever seen before: a shiny picture of actual people, only it wasn't a painting. Hadn't she heard of these things? A phot- -photo-photograph. Yes, that was it, a photograph.
In the picture, there were three people smiling happily. A handsome young man, a beautiful woman, and-Alexandria's throat tightened-a small boy who looked exactly like she had when she was younger, only with blond hair. The two others also looked like she could be . . . related. Related to . . . them.
When one grew up with someone as skeptical as Meela, one didn't believe in fairy tales. Yet as Alexandria gazed upon the family, she thought that the answer to all her wishes might come true.
Quickly listening at the door to the other room to make sure Meela and Len would be occupied for quite a while, Alexandria grabbed a coat (unnecessary in Egypt, but where she might travel it could be colder) and her few belongings, including the photograph. She left posthaste. The teenager had no idea where she was headed, but it had to be better than where she was.
It had to be.