Folks - without further ado and to cheer you up during January when we are all pink lint (skint - de rien to spend! rien de money!!) here is one of my fave tales - The Egyptian Tale which is one of the two stories in print - published by #austinmacauley but you can find it in the shop in the sky amazen oh alright amazon and also on smashwords too - it is a hot summer's tale so that should make you feel warm and snug - so on with the kettle for that nice cup of tea and enjoy!! X
Wonka
Presents! – An Egyptian Tale
Copyright
2015 Madeleine Masterson
Wonka and me liked a good
sunny day, he, in his warm spot crushed up against the skirting in a pool of
light whilst I favoured the back door step in the full glare of the mid-day sun.
‘You’ll be too hot there.’
He advised from the dining room.
‘I know!’ I shouted back;
but just there, in the heat with the jungle-like greenery of the yard, it was
blissful. I sipped my strong tea and
relaxed. Ah, Summer.
I was just drifting off when
Wonka chirped up again.
‘Did you ever wonder where
Gingertop went?’
Yes. Yes I had. He had been a regular highly anti-social
visitor all last year. Ruggles, newly
established as King of the ‘Out Back’ would practically wave him in, let him
chomp down all the food on his plate and see him off. Gingertop was a haughty tom cat (not
checked…) with piercing green eyes.
Then, he vanished.
‘Where’s Gingertop?’ I used
to ask Ruggles, who just looked at me with his angel-like big fat bonny
face. Here, Wonka was on top of the
game.
‘Oh Wonka, not your Egyptian
theory again!’ and as I said it, I slowly twisted and rubbed my bangle, rescued
from the toy box where it had lived for years to wear it as a bracelet
instead. The story was, it had been
brought back from the very site of the Great Pyramids by the river Nile, and
presented to Mum and Dad as a gift from afar.
As I rubbed it I seemed to
see him, our Egyptian, standing by the wrought iron gate which was rather funny
as I never was able to see him before (according to Wonka).
‘Shall I tell the story
then?’ went Wonka, from his sideboard look out.
‘Called?’ I enquired,
settling myself nicely on the stone step in readiness.
‘It’s an Egyptian tale,’
said he, and began to tell it.
As Wonka tells it from his
sideboard look out, the last time he saw Gingertop was his usual perch on the
big ledge outside the kitchen window. He
was waiting to leap down to pinch Ruggles’s tea time and whip off again. All very standard and part of the yard
routine, as Gingertop would arrive at daily intervals and leap up onto the wide
windowsill, settling his ginger behind and tail against the window box full of
pinks. This time though, he was not
alone and had brought someone with him. According to Wonka, it was a strapping
young man and a complete stranger; I say according to Wonka, because he was
invisible to me and taxed my imagination dreadfully. Although it wasn’t a crime scene, I needed an
image to help me out and with the following information, prized from Wonka, I
captured our stranger on my sketch pad:
Next thing, said Wonka, he
shouted at him.
‘Oi!’ He shouts up, through the best double
glazing. The strange young man was just
by the healed up and new back door, and not dressed for cold weather but
entirely in keeping with the hot; and he had a skirt on. As we all know the
Vikings were dressed up to the nines in their leathers and wotnot wielding
cutthroat axes and such AND the even more pesky Celts were hard at it armoured
from top to toe; but this one, a few jewels
sparkling about and a big headscarf, as faithfully described to me by Wonka. I mean.
‘WHO ARE YOU?’ He then
shouted up. Gingertop may have heard and
translated.
Wonka caught the words
PYRAMIDS, KITCHEN and BASTET.
In the kitchen, there is an
old poster of the great pyramids tacked to the wall; it was above Rugglesis
head until it came unstuck and, in case it fell on him and frightened him into
leaving us (I think not), it was moved to another spot; but it was still there
and still visible from outside. The
Egyptian theme continued as standing on a little corner shelf up against the
kitchen window that cannot open, is Bastet.
This small black statue is made of cheap clay and the ear fell off it
but this was re-modelled and painted over.
She, as you will know is a Cat God revered throughout the feline
Kingdom, and has little flowers popped at her feet regularly.
This, Wonka approves of.
Where was I? Oh yes, so you could say the kitchen was
already part shrine to Ruggles and part shrine to the pesky Egyptians.
‘Is he stopping?’ Wonka
again mouthed, this time at Gingertop.
‘Might be.’ And off he or
she jumped clear over the step and round the top of the passageway. He though, stayed put. As he was close enough for Wonka to check him
out thoroughly he did manage to spot a name, a gleaming inscription on his
armlet: Ramondo.
As for me, I could not see
him. Wonka described the life out of
him, pointed with his paw to the place in the yard where he was stationed, and
noted he was looking for something. I
did advise Wonka, that if he was a proper guard, he would have one of those big
highly decorative staffs with him.’
‘What no staff?’ Wonka
continued his one sided conversation through the glass. This time the strange young man turned and
eyeballed Wonka, who had never been this
close up to a real live Egyptian before and it was what he called a smack on
look. At the same time, he shook his
head and put his hands out in a ‘don’t know where the heck it is’ gesture.
‘He says he’s lost it.’
Wonka reported back to me, ‘and he’s drawing something on the ground!’ He was as well! From somewhere he had found a bit of chalk
and was hard at it, drawing loads of those little pictures. Funnily enough although I couldn’t see him, I
could see his cartoon alright and trotted out back to take a photo. ‘If we can
decipher this Wonka,’ I went, all excited, ‘we can figure out why he’s turned
up!’
As Wonka is keen to recount,
Ramondo, our new found Egyptian used Sam’s old drinking bowl when he was
thirsty, scooping the water out with his hands.
Sam had been one of my faithful hounds and I liked to think was still
hanging about protecting us and that.
‘Hungry?’ quizzed Wonka,
making a gobbling motion to indicate eating.
Wonka had a modest appetite despite his size which worried the Vets far
more than it did me – and he was rightly concerned that Ramondo, far from home,
might be peckish. With that, our new
guard on the block, produced a handful of berries. No wonder they were all so fit and strong I
muttered to Wonka, imagining this scene as Wonka faithfully described it to me.
‘And then,’ continued Wonka,
‘he sat on the back door step, where you are now, and closed his eyes for five
minutes.’
I was too busy examining the
photo of the cartoon to listen to all of Wonka’s reports that day, and luckily,
had drawn it all before the strangest thing happened! The entire set of photos faded and
vanished. Wonka said I had deleted them
by accident, but I knew different. Once
I had the cartoon in the right sequence I shared it with Wonka, who checked it
out with Ramondo.
‘Yes, he says you’ve done a
decent job.’ Apparently Ramondo gave my pictures the thumbs up and showed the
most excitement when we got to the picture of my bangle. ‘Why?’ I had said to
Wonka, ‘has he drawn my bangle and Bastet?’
At this, Wonka says Ramondo
cast his eyes upwards in a gesture of despair, but I only have his (Wonka’s)
word for that. I had pieced the little
pictures or what we liked to call a cartoon together and first off decided that
Ramondo was a long way from home.
Yes and the next cartoon
picture confirmed this, as it showed a coffin –
‘Sarcophagus!’ corrected
Wonka, yes one of those being transported up the Nile.
‘I wonder if he knew any of
those famous ancient Egyptians?’ I pondered, ‘there are so many! I had drawn one of them, Queen Nefertiti, and
realised it could be seen from where
Ramondo was supposed to be standing, through the window to where it was in
prime place on my cork notice board.
‘He probably thinks this is
a shrine or a temple.’ observed Wonka having one of his light bulb moments, and
with that, Ramondo knelt down on the stony ground of the yard in a sort of
bowing down motion. It seemed as though
Wonka could be right.
‘What if he does know
Nefertiti,’ I went to Wonka, who was even now proposing we listen to the news
in case there was anything going on; ‘What, like a missing ancient Egyptian! Oh
and not to forget the staff!’ I was
talking to thin air though, and turned my attention back to the cartoon series.
The journey up the Nile,
seemed to be headed for our very own British Museum, situated in London. It held many wonderful artefacts, but was
most renowned for holding onto a lot of mummies and ancient tomb relics. Again, the Egyptians were held in high esteem
in our household, having knowledge of cat power long before we did, and Wonka
would not hear anything against them – not even in this new century when cats
did not seem quite so prominent.
I had visited the Museum, a
few years ago, which really demanded a full on commitment of several days to
look round it, not a few measly hours; I recalled the entrance, guarded by
Lions, and so was not surprised to see that Ramondo had included one of them in
his drawings. As I mused over it, Wonka
gave up a shout from the living room.
‘What did I tell you!’ The
six o’ clock news read by that nice newsreader with the funny name (our
favourite) was blaring out and had some breaking news, with the annoying
rolling type at the bottom of the screen.
‘MISSING MUMMY police have
been called in to investigate the disappearance of a recent addition to the new
EGYPTIAN EXHIBITION –‘
The camera then switched
from the reporter outside (and standing next to the very Lion I had just been
looking at!) to a plinth, in a darkened room, with nothing on it.
More information came
rolling along the screen, and Wonka took notes.
‘There is an obvious connection,’ he muttered,’ between Ramondo and this mystery.’
But what it was, we didn’t
find out until later, on the Ten o’clock news.
The later news report said
that a domestic supervisor (that’s a cleaner we think) had found the staff,
also sighted on the 6 25 out of Kings Cross.
‘Whoever it was,’ said the nice looking reporter,’ left it in the rest
room at York Station.’ York, hitherto mostly famous for the Romans, the Races
and its Minster, received much interest after this, and many enquiries as to
their Egyptian heritage of which it had none. On an even later news report
which Wonka stayed up specially for, whilst I understandably needed an early
night, he heard more about this strange journey.
‘It was on the twenty four
seven news network channel,’ he told me the minute I woke up.’ According to an
eye witness, a scantily clad young man dressed as an ancient Egyptian, asked
where the Shrine of Bastet was, and presuming this to be the new cosmopolitan
corner shop at the end of our street, directed him there!’ We reckoned that
Gingertop, always lurking round corners and streets, had then guided him – him
being Ramondo – to our back yard.
‘Probably a bit homesick,’
said Wonka, now back on the side and waiting for Ramondo to reappear. I did wonder how Ramondo knew about my
kitchen statuette but of course the ancients knew far more than we give them
credit for; thoughts of a reward made me ask Wonka whether we should contact
the British Museum?
‘If you can find a contact
number for one of the most famous museums in the land, I’ll give you a reward!
So I sent them an email instead, brief and to the point.
To whom it may concern
A young ancient Egyptian,
who calls himself Ramondo has
turned up in my back yard;
he thinks this is a shrine of Bastet
and also thinks we know his
aunty (Nefertiti). He is quite harmless
and in good health
(to-date). Is this, your missing
artefact?
I signed it off and sent it,
once Wonka had checked for spelling and grammar. More or less immediately, we received a
reply. One of those automatic ones which
advised us:
Ms Binkerton will be out of
the office until further notice.
‘Well that’s handy,’ I
sighed at the lack of customer service and came up with another solution. ‘Why
don’t we just buy him a return ticket and see him on the train Wonka?’
Wonka gave my idea some
thought, and also made attempts to communicate this to Ramondo. His puzzled expression had us on the run for
a while, until I had the better idea of drawing a cartoon of it.
As I prepared the sequence,
showing me and Wonka assisting him to the train station, with details of his
journey back to the museum (walking, not the underground we thought best), I
popped the radio on, for a nice soothing bit of music.
‘Do you think this looks
like the 9 50 am out of York Wonka?’ I queried, including the platform number
and a sign for the rest room. I was just going to draw the Lost Property so he
could reclaim his staff when the news came on the radio:
‘- and we are going over to our
roving reporter at the British Museum. What can you tell us John?’
John gave us a short history
of the missing artefact (Ramondo) the latest sighting (Aberdeen. We disregarded this) and then gave us the
most startling news of all.
‘The curator of this
particular section in the museum had quite a surprise this morning, when
instead of an empty plinth next to the display cabinet containing an elaborate
sarcophagus, he found a ginger cat sitting on top of it. The metropolitan police are treating the case
as a possible kidnap and have issued the following number for the public to
contact them on………….’
Gingertop and the mystery of
his disappearance was solved. For Wonka
that is.
It looked like him, of
course it did, but how this swap had taken place was as mysterious as the
pyramids themselves.
‘Shall I continue?’ I
wondered if the journey back could be made quicker perhaps with a few
incantations……. Wonka told me not to be so fanciful and apparently Ramondo was
keen for another train journey.
‘Have we to surmise then,’ I
said to Wonka ‘that he’s come all this way to find Bastet?’
Wonka however, was busy
having a fair go at showing Ramondo what had happened to Gingertop. As charades go it was a decent attempt, but
when I drew it and held it up for my invisible ancient Egyptian to see, this
clinched it.
‘He says – ‘ started Wonka
‘Yes?’ I prompted.
‘His Gods are pleased!’ he
finished. Ramondo had gone through a
lengthy charade himself, with praying hands and eyes cast skywards and such
like reported Wonka.
I did offer, via Wonka, to
run him up to the station but now he had accomplished his purpose, I was
assured that he would be returned swiftly.
‘As swiftly as the sands of
the desert, when they fly up into a storm.’
Listening to Wonka’s
pronouncement I did wonder if he had been watching ‘Flight of the Phoenix’
again with Jimmy Stewart (our fave), but this was about a crashed plane in the
desert and not an ancient Egyptian in sight.
Later that evening, when the
sky was on the turn and I had spotted the first glittering star out back, we
attended to the news.
‘…and over to our roving
reporter at the British Museum for the latest on the missing artefact.’ Suddenly we were gazing at a darkened room
with a glass case under several spotlights.
I had always favoured this kind of lighting and had been faithful to the
desk lamp in all my rooms, and when they were off it was good old candles.
And then we saw him, at
least I saw him for the first time – our Ramondo, lying gracefully in the
casket with (I thought) a pleased expression on his face. Of course it wasn’t a real person or
anything, it was one of those elaborate mummified objects that the Egyptians
were busy producing all day long, but John the roving reporter, was full of it.
‘….an eye-witness says that
this particular display case was empty only half an hour ago! And there are
reports coming in of a strangely clad young man posing for American tourists by
the lions!!’
Egyptian.
There was no mention of Gingertop in John’s news though, and although we switched to the relentless twenty four seven news channel (at Wonka’s insistence) it was now focussed on a hitherto unknown American making a bid for the White House. As for my email, like many before and after, it was politely ignored.
There was no mention of Gingertop in John’s news though, and although we switched to the relentless twenty four seven news channel (at Wonka’s insistence) it was now focussed on a hitherto unknown American making a bid for the White House. As for my email, like many before and after, it was politely ignored.
And so it was, that Wonka’s
tale ended. Except for one thing really;
some days like this one, when the sun was fierce and strong and I sat on the
step basking in it, (and turning the bangle) whilst Wonka splayed out on the
sideboard, there was the sense of being guarded. Just a little glimpse sometimes, a certain
scent in the air that suggested an ancient presence. Could it be?
The
End
No comments:
Post a Comment