by Melody Grace
Gary greeted him. “Welcome back!” the guard cheerfully said as he held the door open.
“Hi,” Marshall replied, forcing a smile. He liked Gary but wasn’t in the mood to talk.
Gary noticed the boy’s sour mood. “You know, I’m not really supposed to do this,” he started.
Marshall’s eyebrows rose in curiosity.
“Dr. Ackerly is presenting our recent acquisitions to the staff. You come here so often; I wonder if you’d like a sneak peek? I can probably get you in, if we hurry.”
“Sure!” Marshall said with genuine delight. Dr. John Ackerly was the museum’s curator, a friendly professor with a calm voice and curly hair as white as snow. Marshall really liked him, because he spent lots of time telling stories about the museum’s collection. Most tales were epic; they usually involved battles.
Marshall especially loved to hear about the over three-thousand-year-old Egyptian mummy. In life, the mummy’s name was Intef. According to Dr. Ackerly, Intef was a priest of Ra, the Egyptian god of the sun. Dr. Ackerly knew he was a priest because of the surviving hieroglyphics on the mummy’s damaged sarcophagus. But that’s all they knew about him.
Marshall usually filled in the blanks with his imagination, conjuring images of Boris Karloff’s character Ardath Bey in the 1932 Universal Studios horror film The Mummy. The Mummy was Marshall’s favorite monster.
Gary led the boy to a door with an “Employees Only” sign on it. Gary knocked before opening it.
“Excuse me, Doc. I’ve got little Marshall here, I thought it’d be a real treat for him to see what you’ve got.”
“I’m not little anymore!” Marshall thought as he inwardly bristled with anger at Gary’s choice of words. But the security guard was doing a really nice thing for him. He let it go.
“Um, yes, of course,” Dr. Ackerly stammered. “We’re just about done, but he can listen to the grand finale.”
Marshall excitedly sat in an empty chair as the museum staff greeted him. He flashed Gary a smile of gratitude as the guard exited.
“I’ve already gone through most of the new additions, Marshall,” Dr. Ackerly said, “but the one I’m most excited to tell you about, and I think you’ll agree is the most fascinating, is the over three-thousand-year-old Egyptian mummy of a female musician.”
Marshall and the crowd gasped in excitement. He didn’t know they had musicians back then.
“Her name was Tadiaset, and she played music for Ra. I’ve been trying for years to bring her here. She’s meant to be here. You see, she was found in the early 1900s, in the same tomb as our own Intef. She spent almost one hundred years at the British Museum, but when they recently decided to ship her elsewhere, I knew we had to have her. Other museums wanted her, of course. But, through good fortune, we won her in the end. And now,” Dr. Ackerly said with widened eyes, “I can proudly say that she’s in the New Acquisitions room, just waiting for a proper set up in our galleries.”
After the meeting, Marshall made his way to the Ancient Egyptian room. When he got there, he realized he had the whole collection to himself; nobody else was in the room. “Finally!” Marshall thought.
He approached Intef’s dimly lit sarcophagus. Although it was behind glass, he felt close to the mummy, like a spark from the ancient past connected him to the dead. Marshall couldn’t read any of the hieroglyphics on the old casket, but he loved staring at them and trying to guess which symbols meant what based on Dr. Ackerly’s translations. As he looked at a symbol of an eye, he heard a strange noise.
Creeeeeek.
Marshall stumbled back.
Creeeeeek.
Intef’s casket opened. Brown dust poured out from it, spreading out behind the glass.
Marshall slowly backed away.
The decaying hand of the mummy reached out from the dust. Frayed gray bandages hung from his pale arm; his outstretched fingers reached towards the boy.
Marshall felt woozy. Suddenly he saw visions of a hot sprawling desert, pyramids, and a regal Egyptian man and woman. In a trance, Marshall wandered into a closet at the end of the room. He tried to stop himself, but he couldn’t. He was very sleepy. He curled up on the cold floor and fell into a deep slumber.
Marshall awoke, his heart was pounding. Everything was dark around him. He couldn’t remember what happened, until he heard the shuffling of slow-moving feet on the other side of the door. The mummy! Intef had reached out from his sarcophagus… but how? There was no time to understand.
Marshall slowly opened the door, peering out of a thin opening.
A dim light bathed the room in orange. Intef sluggishly walked around and moaned, a sort of sound that Marshall never heard before.
“Intef sounds miserable,” the boy thought.
His heart dropped. He thought for a second that the monster saw him, but it was in his head. He breathed a sigh of relief and analyzed the scene from his hiding spot. There was shattered glass everywhere; the mummy had busted through it when he awoke.
Intef limped out of the room. Marshall realized the mummy was looking for something… or someone.
Marshall had an idea. He remembered the vision he had before he fell asleep, of the man and woman. He remembered Dr. Ackerly’s announcement: the mummy of Tadiaset was here, and she was found in the same gravesite as Intef.
Marshall ran from the closet, down the hallway, and to the New Acquisitions room. Locked. He frantically pulled at the padlock. It didn’t budge.
Marshall turned and screamed.
The mummy walked towards him with a thin, outstretched arm. His left arm rested on his chest.
“Wait! I know what you want... I can help!” Marshall cried.
The mummy didn’t stop.
“Tadiaset’s in here!”
The monster halted.
Marshall sighed. “But I can’t open the door.”
The mummy, agonizing again, moved towards Marshall.
Marshall was scared but didn’t flinch.
Intef suddenly stopped and cocked his mucky head towards the boy.
The two locked eyes. Marshall felt the weight of ancient memories in Intef’s gaze. In that moment, there was some sort of understanding between boy and monster.
The mummy’s hand came down upon the padlock, breaking it off. The door swung open. Intef groaned and limped into the darkness.
At that moment, Marshall’s parents came running towards him. Gary was with them.
“Marshall!” his mother cried. “We’ve been worried sick! What happened?!”
Marshall took a deep breath. “I’ll explain once you turn the lights on in the New Acquisitions room.”
Gary flashed Marshall a strange look but obeyed his request. He gasped.
The mummy of Intef peacefully laid next to the casket of Tadiaset.
Black Butterfly
Story & Illustration // K.M. Bennet
* * *
The Ross family's new home was not right.
To Rosalin Ross, who'd recently been demoted to the role of the invisible older sibling, relaxing at the new house was as hopeless as relaxing in a hornet's nest. During the day, movers and repairmen filed in and out the front door, and during the night, her baby brother Marcus screamed without end.
As far as Rosalin was concerned, there was no reason for all these changes. Their lives had been perfect in the city. There was no reason for them to move to this rural wooded area, and to a tiny school where she would be an outsider. There was no reason for them to have added squirmy, screaming Marcus to their family. They'd been happy before.
Marcus' birth had felt like a betrayal, as if she hadn't been enough for her parents. It was the only explanation she could think of for why they'd do such a thing. Then, when they'd announced the move shortly after, she'd been even more angry, sure that her parents were trying to ruin her life on purpose.
Rosalin kicked over one of the cardboard boxes stacked in her room. A stack of winter sweaters spilled out on the floor. As she knelt to pick one
up, she heard a scuffling in the hall that meant Marcus was coming.
Marcus paused at the threshold to her room and gave her a big oblivious grin.
"Get out," Rosalin warned. She waved him away.
Mother's silhouette appeared behind Marcus in the door. "Be nice."
"Get out, please," Rosalin sneered, sticking out her tongue.
Marcus continued to invade and was about to destroy a notebook before Mother scooped him up and sat on the bed.
"I don't understand, Rosalin. This isn't like you to be so unkind. Why won't you play with Marcus?"
Rosalin scowled. She wanted to say a lot of things. For one, she was sick of Marcus crying all night. She was sick of her parents only giving her attention when she'd done something wrong. She felt confused because, even though their family was bigger than ever, she'd never felt so alone. But Rosalin didn't know how to put this into words that her mother would understand. Tears came to her eyes.
"Because he just ruins everything," she muttered.
"I know Marcus can't do a lot right now, but when he gets older, you two can have fun together. But part of being a family is doing things for one another even though we might not get anything in return."
Mother launched into a long speech about family as Marcus continued to crawl all over her. Rosalin turned to the window and watched the pine trees sway in the breeze.
All at once, a huge black butterfly landed on the window. It wasn't a dull black—it was an iridescent color that glinted in the light like the rainbow film on an oil slick or the shimmer on a raven's wing. At the bottom wingtips, a lacy white edge flared out like a petticoat. The wingspan was at least the size of two adult hands put together. The beautiful wings flapped once, very slowly, as if showing off its rainbow luster, and then it flew away.
Rosalin hopped to her feet at once. "Did you see that?" she shouted.
“Rosalin, were you even listening?"
"There was a huge black butterfly right there on the window!"
Her mother stood and her face tightened with anger. "Young lady, I don't care if you saw a unicorn. When I'm speaking, I would appreciate being listened to. Nobody ever listens..." her voice trailed off. Her mother's eyes looked suddenly wet.
Rosalin’s cheeks flushed pink and she looked at the floor.
"Nevermind," Mother sighed. She put Marcus on her hip as she left and clicked the door shut.
The next morning, Rosalin happened to look out the window as she got ready for school. In the middle of the backyard, she caught a glimpse of the black butterfly bobbing up and down with the breeze. She blinked only once, and when she opened her eyes, the butterfly was gone. Then, on the drive to school, she saw it again. It smacked into the windshield, flapped wildly, and dissolved before her eyes. When she screamed, her mother yelled that Rosalin had almost caused a wreck. Her mother hadn't seen it.
That night, Rosalin waited in the backyard until the butterfly finally emerged from a rose bush. It floated right toward her. The natural response was to hold out her finger to see if it would land.
It landed on the tip of her index finger.
The world turned gray. The house disappeared, the backyard became a wild overgrowth, and everything around took on a blue-gray cast, as if someone had put a moody Instagram filter over the whole world. Before her eyes, the black butterfly transformed into a girl that was like an exact copy of Rosalin but with strange eyes that were solid black from lid to center. A thick blue mist skirted around her twin's ankles.
"What are you?" Rosalin said.
The creature tilted its head. Its voice sounded like Rosalin's but airier and with a monotone quality. The voice reminded her of the steadily spinning threads in her mother's sewing machine: mechanical and smooth.
"We are the fae," her twin said.
"A fairy?" Rosalin asked.
The creature didn't answer. Instead, it bowed and presented Rosalin with a crown of white roses. As if this were a signal, dozens of faeries now emerged from behind the gnarled trees. The faeries had closed-mouth, wide smiles as they put the crown on her head.
"All hail queen Rosalin!" they chanted.
Rosalin beamed. They took her to a pavilion decorated with bright streamers and danced to beautiful music that seemed to boom directly from the great gray sky. A feast of strange, red fruits and tiny cakes had been laid out on a long table. Rosalin ate to bursting. Finally, her twin faerie offered her hand, and when Rosalin took it, she was home. Nobody had even noticed she'd gone.
Rosalin spent the entire next day waiting to see the black butterfly again. In the evening, she finally spied it weaving through the limbs of a pine tree in the backyard. But on her way out the door, she almost tripped over Marcus. She looked down to say something snarky but noticed that he seemed to be holding something quite small.
He gave her a dimpled smile and said, "Lin."
Rosalin felt a connection to him with a suddenness that hurt like a surprise pinprick. "Did you just try to say my name?"
"Lin!" he said, giggling. He reached out and she picked him up.
"Mom!" Rosalin yelled. "He just said my name!"
Her mother had been sitting on the couch, and she jumped up. "Oh my gosh! Did I hear you right? He said your name?"
For a moment, everyone smiled.
Rosalin opened Marcus' palm and took an iron nail away. "Oh no! You can't have that!"
She showed the nail to her mother. "Maybe a repairman dropped it."
"Thank goodness you found this. He could have choked! What a good big sister you are," her mother said, touching Rosalin’s shoulder. “I always knew you would be.”
Rosalin felt a warm glow inside. But then, she also felt the pull of the black butterfly waiting for her in the backyard.
“I’m going out to play,” she said.
When she arrived, she could feel something different in the faerie realm. There was a stillness over the gray land, a feeling of anticipation.
The faerie appeared as before, but this time she looked grim. Maybe even a little angry.
"You can't come here anymore unless you bring the baby. If you bring him, you'll be our queen."
"My brother? Why do you want him?"
For the first time, the faerie revealed her teeth: piranha-like and yellow.
Rosalin recoiled. She didn’t want those teeth anywhere near Marcus.
"We only come when we're summoned," the faerie said in her spider-silk voice.
"I didn't summon you!"
The creature's eyes flashed from black to red. "You didn't wish for your little brother to disappear?"
"I didn't mean it."
"You did," she hissed.
Rosalin backed away. "No. Take me home right now."
"If we can't have him, we will have you!" The faerie screeched. Sharp claws burst from her fingertips. She pounced.
Still holding the iron nail she'd taken from Marcus, Rosalin slashed out and pricked the faerie's palm. When the nail touched the faerie, everything dissipated. The faerie twin and her terrifying teeth were gone.
Rosalin ran into the house. She slammed the door. Locked it. She dashed to Marcus, gathering him in a hug.
"I'm sorry," she whispered against his bald head.
Their mother crossed the room and, seeing her children hugging, froze in her tracks. She placed her hand on her heart, smiling.
The faeries never had a reason to visit again.
A Brush of Myth
Story // Mama Creep
* * *
Every year my parents would give me and my brother a chance to spend the summer in my grandparent's house, in Tabaco here in the Philippines. They lived in a quiet community, thirty minutes from the bustling city life. Their house was surrounded by trees and the closest neighbor was about a fifteen-minute stroll away. I didn't mind, I liked the area. It's peaceful and there were a ton of activities for young children to do.
Internet wasn't very accessible at that time, so we played outside more often. I general
ly had the best time except for one event when lice-infested my head-- those small parasitic bugs that feed on your blood. They breed so quickly, making your head their feeding ground. I imagined that they would leave after some time; I never anticipated that my head would be constantly irritated.
My grandma eventually took notice of my frequent head-scratching and called me to sit beside her. She held my head near her face and started examining my scalp. Turns out my head had small red bumps and wounds from my excessive scratching.
"You probably got this from playing with the neighbor", she muttered, as she slowly removed the lice from my head and squished them between her nails. "It's just lice, Nanay, they'll go away." The sting from my hair strands being pulled annoyed me. "Yes, they will and so will you.” "What do you mean?" I turned to look at her.
She then told me about a massive, unnamed bird who liked to eat lice from kids' heads and once they were done, they take them away to throw into the mouth of the volcano. The reason why kids were told to sleep during the afternoon was to keep the bird from taking them. I scoffed in disbelief and just remained silent.
One boring afternoon, I snuck out of the house to play with Natalie, my neighbor. We went to their huge garden at the back of their house and checked out their old cottage. It was ruined for the most part and it stank of rotten wood. Different types of mushroom grew on the wood and dead bugs were everywhere. The only amazing part about the garden was the flowers. I wasn't familiar with most of them so I asked Natalie if I could pick some to show my grandma. She said yes and told me she'll check what's at the back of the house and be right back. I nodded and proceeded to pluck some flowers.
It had been about thirty minutes since Natalie went to the back of the old house. I was about to look for her when I heard from a distance the sound of wings flapping. My heart pounded so fast and a sinking feeling took over. I suddenly remembered the bird creature my grandmother was talking about. "It can't be true," I muttered to myself, as I went after my friend. Before I could even reach my destination, I saw Natalie's legs protruding in the corner as she was slumped to the ground.
