[ELASTIC MEMOIRS OF A HUMBLE PRIESTESS/1] [5,000 YEARS AGO]

A girl, medium in size, with prominent eyes, waited for the darkness to be over. She felt upon the ground, grasping at nothing but sand and rubble. Nothing that could light up the black mass, or her spirit. She would have taken either at this point, yearning for some brand, any brand, of hope that she would survive this gloomy place.

This isn't to say that the young woman wanted out. In fact, it was the opposite. A dark hole was where someone like her deserved to be. Despite her relatively average appearance, there were few like the woman. As there should be. Few people whose Ka was untamed like her own. Many who were bunking in their own nearby holes.

So, the girl curled back up, touching her hand against her rough skin. You and I would call this feeling "leathery," with it's tough, uncomfortable exterior. She just called it "normal skin," like any other hand she ever held or legs she ever desperately grasped onto. Years of being in the Egyptian sun, working day in and day out, exposed and expressed in her ratty day dress had begun to roughen it. Not that she minded. No one in this land ever knew the luxury of being baby soft.

She ran her fingers against a few of her scars - every injury that hadn't healed properly. These fragments of skin were a bit gummier than the rest, and when she traced around them, she could feel it. There was one on her wrist where a boy in the village had bit her - dug his canine teeth right into her flesh. And one down her outer thigh, where she had fallen over a rock. And where the shop owner had whipped her, right down the crease of the back. Each scar was at home in her body, and she took comfort in every one. They were all a natural part of her. And yet, to have any sensation of touch, the woman traced around them like they weren't her own.

Everyone at home had them; it was a part of being a part of a small village. Had. Now there was a strong word. No matter what direction you look at it from, the term 'had' is a catalyst for trouble. For someone in our positions, as reader and narrator, it's a past/present/future tense nightmare of a word. From someone in the young woman's position, it represented something that could not be changed.

For the better.

"My name is…" "My name is…" she repeated to herself. This was partly due to boredom, as she hadn't accounted for the fact that in this darkness there would be no way to pass the time. But mostly, it was so she made sure to keep in mind who she was, and why she deserved to be here. Before her Ka hurt anyone.

At least, that was her resolve the first few days. Lately, noting her own precious identity only reminded her how alone she was in this blackness. Her knees huddled closer to her face.

Without much else to do, the young woman began her prayers. There was only one god she knew. Only one she had seen in her lonely village on the outskirts of the city. Even when she, young and curious, inquired about others deities, the villagers would sharply glare at the notion. The city had grand temples to Amun, yet the village had mounds dedicated to another. It seemed wrong somehow.

Eventually, she stopped asking questions, and just joined her fellow villagers in worship. What the vast deity stood for, she never learned. At its core, praying was nothing more of a habit now, something could create a sense of normalcy. So, she whispered, "I know that I am getting only what I deserve. I… am okay with that. But I… it's awfully lonely in here. I wish… I wasn't…"

The responsive silence was illuminating, to say the least.

All that was left was to lay down and do the only thing the darkness allowed; sleep. With the jaggedness of the ground pressing against her face, the girl rolled onto her side. No idea whether she was looking at the back of her eyelids or staring into the abyss.

That was when a sound, so quiet, nearly unnoticeable, caught her attention. A landing of sorts, two feet dropping down into the hole where she sat. "Hello?" she said, "Is someone here?"

"Shht." the next thing she sensed was a hand covering her mouth. Not her nose, not her head, just lightly pressed against her lips. It wasn't the presence of the hand that froze her, but the feeling. Something she had never experienced before. It's palm had the softness of a newborn. If not for the wiggling indents of each finger, she wouldn't have guessed it was a hand at all.

The two stayed silent for a moment, then it disappeared, and the voice lowered. The girl could tell now - it was a man. "Do you want to get us caught?" the man… no, the boy whispered.

When it felt safe to do so, she whispered back, "What are you doing here?" completely confused yet a little too eager to fill in the suddenly exciting blanks.

By the tone of his voice, the boy apparently thought this was the dumbest question ever spoken, "I am hiding from the guards."

Although she knew he couldn't see her in this thick blackness, and she couldn't see him, she couldn't help the harsh frown that followed, "Excuse me, but I must be hearing wrong. Unless you take me for an idiot. Of course, you are hiding; you would not have 'sushed' me otherwise. I am asking why you're hiding here. Do you even know where you are?"

"Oh," the darkness swallowed his flush, "because this is a place the guards would never look."

No matter what he was hiding from, it wasn't worth jumping into this - a lonely, forgotten hole. One with who knows what kind monster lurking below. "I don't understand. Did you not know this prison was occupied?"

"Who's taking whom for a fool now?"

Considering the circumstances, she almost said she was justified to do so.

"I listened first. The others yell and scream while they await their trials. But in this one, I heard a prayer."

"So? That still doesn't mean I won't take advantage of you to escape."

"Are you going to?"

There was a looming silence. Even the girl bringing her knees back up to her face hardly made a scrape.

"I thought as much."

The youthful Egyptian girl and the mysterious boy sat for what seemed to her like precious hours. They occasionally spoke, covering seemingly pointless topics - how uncomfortable the ground was, parts of their acceptable bodies that were itchy or cold, the different scents the air has - that while meaningless, were the most potent gifts she perhaps ever received. Even with the thick black wall between them, even with the two of them leaning back to back upon each other, she could see him. Clearer than anything she'd seen before.

"I was curious," he said at one point, looking up into the abyss. His eyes searched for the entrance to the hole but could see nothing. He and the girl sat back to back, and she could feel him lean as he tried to look up. "Tell me, who is the god which you prayed to for repentance?"

"I do not repent," she replied quietly.

He paused, "O...kay? But still. You didn't answer my…" The boy trailed off, waiting for an answer, ANY answer. Some indication that she ever had any intention of bouncing the question back. He received nothing but uncomfortable tension, feeling her back curl as she balled up again.

Then, inspiration struck. He all but jumped onto his feet in pure, exhilarated bliss. "Oh! I know! Why don't you and I play a game."

This caught her attention, and the girl unwound herself. "A… game?"

"That's right, games are my specialty."

"What are the rules?"

He knew she would bite. Who wouldn't? A chin up, the boy nodded at himself and said so very modestly. "Simple, that's what they are - listen - when I say a description, you name the God. Then every correct answer, we switch. My teacher invented it especially for me as a way of studying them, so I'm quite the expert."

That was… unappealing to say the least. The girl felt her jaw tighten and shoulders curl up. But the other option was this darkness. What if she refused and he became bored and left? As long as possible she would wrap this unexpected gift around her fingers. So, quietly but firmly, she agreed.

Although they couldn't see each other, the boy still got to his feet, and prepared himself for the theatrics that followed. He shared his knees, stuck his palms out, and posed like he imagined a mighty god might. Not before snapping his head to the side in an attempt to face his profile to where he was probably sitting. "Aaah-ha!" the boy switched the position of his arms as his voice grew to a dramatic growl. "This first one is easy. This mighty deity is sister and wife of the amazing Osiris himself. Name her!"

The girl tried to clear the lump in her throat, to no avail.

"Need another hint? She's mother of Horus, protector of children and nursing mothers." He tried hard to keep his posture from faltering, keeping to the same theatrical position through the silence. The girl could hear her heart beating as she racked her brain, praying that she had somewhere heard the answer before and it would come spewing out of her on instinct.

Nothing. She swallowed hard. The lump still remained.

"No…? Magic so powerful she could subdue almighty Ra himself…?"

Finally, in a broken creak, the girl whispered. "Pass."

That was strange. Not the end of the world he supposed, but still started an itch in the back of his brain. "Er, that's fine. Onto the next!" He struck another pose, this him shuffling his feet and holding his arms in front of his chest. Perhaps she just needed a refresher the myth. This thought stuck him as odd. Until today, he hadn't thought is possible someone could not know Osiris and his story as if it were their own. "God of the afterlife, the underworld, and great rebirth. He who rose from the grave, his name is…?"

"...pass."

The boy felt his chest tighten. Awkward could not begin to describe the tension between them. He could feel the strength of her dejection, but he could also feel his own draining of all its faith. "The god of chaos and confusion…?"

Finally, the girl brightened, spring up like the weight had been thrown off her. She couldn't help but throw her arms up in the air as she did, shouting out the name so loud it wouldn't surprise her if guards heard it. Finally. Finally. This one she knew. This one she had always known. It was who her village spoke of so often. A great big goofy grin crossed her face in anticipation.

The black wall between them didn't allow her to see just how hard he flinched, or how his skin turned another shade in alarm. He fell to his feet in surprise, no breath to be found.

Although she couldn't see it, the girl felt that something had changed. Something was off. So she repeated her answer firmly. Then again, with a question in her tone. His eyes only got wide each time, until he could find his voice again. "I don't understand… Are you a foreigner?"

He got back to his feet and cautiously shuffled backward. "What? I'm not a foreigner, I promise! Egypt is my home" she attempted to explain, grasping wildly into the darkness in hopes of finding him. His image was fading back into the darkness, piece by piece her mind's eye could longer see him. "You don't understand? I don't understand! What's the matter? Do you not want to play the game anymore? Was it something I said?"

"I… I need to go. Excuse me."

"Wait…! No wait, I'm sorry! We don't have to play anymore, please just do not not leave."

"I should not be speaking to you. This was a misstep on my part. I'm sorry." Voice now on edge, he stepped to the wall and felt around in a panic, until the thump of his footsteps ascended towards the sky.

This tightened her chest into knots. Feeling desperately at the empty space, there was no semblance of him. "W-wait! Please…" The only evidence that he was there was the papyrus rope she found along the edge. It seemed stale between her hands as it uncoiled from her fingers and also disappeared into the heavens.