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MidReal Story
I wanted to know what it was and where it came from. I wanted to know why he have shown himself to me. And if he had written the signs or if he know what the marks ment.
Scenario:I wanted to know what it was and where it came from. I wanted to know why he have shown himself to me. And if he had written the signs or if he know what the marks ment.
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Chapter One
Sarah stumbled to a halt and squinted at the shadowy figure on the sidewalk ahead of her. The man was tall, with dark hair and broad shoulders that tapered into a trim waist. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, and he was staring off into the distance.
Her breath caught in her throat as a familiar tingle raced down her spine. It couldn't be, could it?
She shook her head and started walking again, only to find another symbol just a few yards away.
This one was etched into the side of a building, but it was far more intricate than the ones she'd seen before. It was a circle with a vertical line running through it, with two smaller lines branching off on either side.
Sarah's heart pounded as she studied the symbol. She'd seen it before-but where? She'd been studying ancient languages and symbols for years, but this one wasn't in any of her books.
She shook her head and kept walking, but a moment later, another symbol caught her eye.
This one was on the sidewalk-someone had drawn it with chalk. It was another circle, but this one had two horizontal lines running through the center.
She snapped a quick picture with her phone and kept walking. Then, without meaning to, she glanced back down the street. And she froze.
The man was still there-still staring into the distance. This time, though, he turned and looked right at her.
Sarah's heart skipped a beat as their eyes met. But before she could get a good look at him, he turned away and disappeared around the corner.
She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She needed to stop this. She was seeing things-just letting her imagination get the best of her. She'd been working too hard-she needed to take a break.
She sighed and turned back the way she'd come. But no matter how fast she walked, she couldn't escape the symbols that seemed to be following her.
It was dark by the time Sarah finally made it home. She tossed her keys on the table and headed straight for the fridge. She was starving-and more than ready for a beer.
She grabbed a sandwich from the fridge and kicked off her shoes as she crossed the living room and headed for the door to her tiny balcony.
The city was spread out before her, the lights of downtown shining brightly in the distance. Sarah settled into one of the chairs and took a sip of her beer as she watched the traffic below.
It had been a long day-a long week-but it had also been an exciting one. After years of searching, Sarah was finally close to finding what she'd spent years looking for: The Scroll of Bastet.
She'd been studying ancient symbols since high school-and in college, she'd majored in archaeology. Since then, she'd spent most of her life on digs in Egypt, searching for proof that the ancient gods and goddesses were real.
The Scroll of Bastet was thought to hold the key to unlocking that proof. It had been hidden away thousands of years ago by priests who'd feared its power-but Sarah had a hunch that they hadn't destroyed it. They'd hidden it-and now, she was close to proving it.
If she could just find one more symbol . . .
Her phone beeped from inside, interrupting her thoughts. She reached for it and frowned when she saw who was calling.
"Hey, Dad," she said when she answered. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Sarah!" Her father's voice was loud, even over the phone. "I need you to do something for me."
"Do you still got that old knife with the odd symbols?" her father continued in a rapidly.
Sarah was used to her father's abrupt changes of subject. "The amputation knife?" she asked. "Yeah, I still have it. Why?"
"Good! Good," her father said quickly. "I need you to bring it to me. Now."
Sarah frowned. "What? Why?"
"I can't tell you over the phone," he said. "Just bring it to me, as soon as possible."
Sarah hesitated. Her father was a professor of ancient history at a small college in the Midwest. He wasn't one for secrets. He tended to blurt things out, without considering the consequences.
"He'd never ask me to do anything like this, not unless it was really important," she told herself.
"Okay," she said finally. "I've got a few things to take care of first, but I should be able to make it there in a couple of days."
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. When her father spoke again, his voice was strained.
"Sarah, I need you to come now. Please."
Sarah hesitated. She could hear the urgency in his voice, but she had deadlines to meet-and besides, what could her father possibly want with the knife?
"Dad-" she began.
"Sarah!" This time, her father's voice was loud enough that she pulled the phone away from her ear.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She had never heard him so angry.
"Sarah," he said again in a calmer voice. "I'm sorry. It's just"-his breath caught in his throat-"it's just very important that you get here as soon as possible."
Something in his voice made Sarah's blood run cold. "What's going on, Dad?" she asked.
"I can't talk about it over the phone," he said quickly. "Please just come." His voice cracked on the last word, and Sarah's heart twisted in her chest.
"Okay," she said quickly. "I'll be there as soon as I can." "Thank you," he said softly, and then he hung up.
Sarah stared at the phone for a moment, and then looked up at the building in front of her.
It was only a couple of stories high-and the offices were closed for the day.
She could finish her story tomorrow.
She stood up and headed back to her apartment.
It didn't take her long to find the amputation knife.
It was tucked away in a drawer in her bedroom.
She picked it up, frowning when she saw that the symbols on the handle seemed to be glowing faintly.
"Is it just my imagination?" she wondered.
She shook her head and stuffed the knife into her bag.
It was probably just a trick of the light-or a reflection from the street outside.
But still .
.
.
the symbols looked almost alive.
She shook her head again and zipped up her bag.
"Get a grip, Sarah," she told herself.
"It's just a silly old knife with some funny-looking symbols.
"And yet .
.
.
I can't shake the feeling that I've seen those symbols before." She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she was a professional journalist-a skeptic who prided herself on finding the truth behind the myths and legends.
She didn't believe in magic or ancient curses or any of that nonsense.
It was all just a bunch of hooey.
At least, that's what she kept telling herself .
.
.
Sarah had never been much of a morning person.
But today, she woke up early, feeling as though she hadn't really slept at all.
She got up and got dressed, trying to shake off the weird sense of unease that had settled over her in the middle of the night.
She was halfway through her second cup of coffee when she heard the knock on the door. "Who is it?" she called out as she got to her feet and headed for the door. "It's me," Michael said from the other side. "I need to talk to you." "Uh . . . just a minute," Sarah said quickly. "I need to get dressed." "Sarah!" Michael called out. "Please! It's important." Sarah hesitated. What did he want? And how did he know where she lived?
She looked around her apartment and then back at the door. She thought about just ignoring him and hoping he'd go away-but she knew that wasn't going to happen. Michael was nothing if not persistent. With a sigh, she headed back to the door and opened it. "What do you want?" she asked. "How did you find out where I live?"
Michael held out his hand and showed her her business card. "You left this on the table last night," he said. Sarah stared at him in disbelief. "I . . . I don't believe this," she stammered. "I bet you followed me home last night, too." Michael shook his head. "No," he said. "I didn't follow you home."
"How can I be sure of that?" Sarah asked. Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He unfolded it and handed it to her. "I kept track of the symbols I saw last night," he said matter-of-factly. "And as you can see"-he pointed to the paper-"I saw one of them right outside my hotel."
Sarah looked closely at the paper. Sure enough, there was an exact copy of one of the symbols she'd seen last night-drawn in what looked like red marker. She looked up at Michael in surprise. "You believe me?" she asked. "You believe that these symbols are real?"
"I believe that you believe it," he said with a smile. "Besides, I figured I'd need some extra help if I wanted to convince you." "What do you mean?" Sarah asked, frowning. "What do you think you're doing here?" "I'm trying to help you," he said simply. "But I can't do that if you keep shutting me out." Sarah shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about." "Yes, you do," he said quietly. "I saw it last night, in your eyes." Sarah stiffened. "Saw what?" she asked sharply. Michael hesitated, looking more troubled than she'd ever seen him before.
"Your fear," he said softly.
"Your fear of the symbols-of what they might mean-of what might happen if you don't find out." Sarah felt as though someone had just punched her in the stomach.
"What are you . . . ? How did you know that . . . ?" Michael shook his head.
"I don't know exactly how I know," he said.
"It's just .
.
.
something inside of me." "Something inside of you?
What are you, some kind of psychic or something?" Michael laughed.
"No," he said.
"I'm not a psychic." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
"I'm just .
.
.
a very good guesser, I suppose." Sarah tried to smile back, but she couldn't quite manage it.
"I guess you are," she said softly.
"I'm sorry." "For what?"
"For shutting you out-for not wanting to tell you what's going on." "That's okay," he said quickly.
"It's not your fault." "But I .
.
.
I do want to tell you," she said.
"I want you to know what I'm thinking about all of this." "Okay," he said gently.
"It's just .
.
.
I don't know what to say, or where to start." "Start at the beginning," Michael suggested.
"That's always a good place to start." Sarah nodded.
"Okay," she said.
"So .
.
.
the symbols." "Yes, the symbols," Michael prompted.
"Like I told you before, I think they're some kind of message." "A message from who-from what?" "I'm not sure.
Not yet," she said.
"But I think .
.
.
I think they might be connected to an ancient prophecy."
"An ancient prophecy?
You mean like something out of Nostradamus or the Bible or something?"
"Something like that," Sarah agreed.
"But not exactly."
"Tell me more," Michael urged.
"It's all still pretty vague," she warned him.
"But I think .
.
.
"I think we might be able to find out more about this if we work together," Michael suggested.
"What?
How?
What could you do to help me with this?"
he asked, frowning.
"I don't know," she admitted.
"But I'm willing to try anything at this point."
He opened his mouth, as if to protest, but she spoke first.
"What's the matter?
Don't you want to help me?"
"No," he said quickly, shaking his head.
"It's not that at all.
It's just .
.
.
I don't want you to get hurt, that's all."
"I won't get hurt," she promised him.
"I've been a reporter for years, remember?
I know how to take care of myself." He looked unconvinced.
"But this is different," he argued.
"This is all new to me, and it scares me.
It should scare you, too."
"You're right," she said softly.
"It does scare me, a little bit."
"A little bit?
You mean to tell me that it doesn't scare you a lot?"
he asked skeptically.
She hesitated for a moment.
"Okay," she admitted finally.
"It scares me a lot, more than a little bit."
"I knew it," Michael said grimly.
"I knew it would." "What would what?
What are you talking about?" Sarah asked, frowning in confusion.
But before he could answer her, the waitress appeared with their orders, setting them down on the table in front of them and asking if they needed anything else before she went away again.
Michael waited until she was gone before he spoke again.
"Do you remember what I told you last night-about the symbols, and how they might be connected to a prophecy?"
Sarah nodded slowly.
"How could I forget?
It's been driving me crazy ever since you first mentioned it to me." "Well .
.
