Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
We are talking. And I remember this day. It was the first time I walked through Pell’s tomb door.
“My statue is on the inside,” Pell is telling me. “Just past the columns. You can’t see it, but it’s in the center of the inner chamber.”
“How do you get inside?” I take a step back, surprised. Because these words came out of my mouth instead of memory Pie’s. In fact, memory-Pie is gone and now I’m just… her.
“Well, if you weren’t here, this black shadowy part”—Pell waves his hand at the black shadow just beyond the columns—“that would actually be the stoa.”
“What’s a stoa?”
“Oh. It’s a walkway. The space between the columns and the inner chamber, which is called a naos.”
“Wow.” I look back up at the columns, remembering how in awe I was that day. “It’s all very… interesting. But what is all that up there?” I point to the space above the columns.
I know what it is, of course. I have already lived this moment. But I don’t want to pre-empt the conversation. I want to live it again. So I just let the memory play out.
“That’s called the entablature. It’s a scene carved in stone. Which, now that I think about it, I actually haven’t noticed in centuries.”
The conversation goes on like that. Pell explaining things. Me trying not to feel ignorant. But I find that I don’t actually have to participate in this conversation. It’s like… like I’m programmed or something. Like this is something important that needs to play out, whether I’m actively engaging with it or not.
The next thing I know I’m climbing up onto Pell’s shoulders. And a moment later, I’m precariously perched on the ledge just below the entablature, Sharpie in hand.
A wood, a buck, a nymph, and stone.
A way into a satyr’s home.
A door appears, the nymph walks through,
And now their lives begin anew.
I’m really proud of that spelling. I think it might be one of my best. It definitely gave the best results.
I jump down, but when I look around, Pell is gone. The sanctuary is gone too. There is me, there is the tomb, and there is the fog.
I think this is my door.
And then there’s nothing left to do but walk through.
So I do.
Pell’s tomb is different than the others. It pretty much looks the same on the outside. Maybe a bit grander, compared to most. It looks like a proper Roman temple with columns and shit. And that courtyard space between the columns and the actual entrance to his woods, that’s the stoa.
And inside the stoa is Pell’s statue. Again, it’s different than the others in the sanctuary. For one, you can’t see it until you’re actually inside the tomb. I’ve always wondered about this. Is it hidden because Pell can leave his tomb and none of the other prisoners can?
Or is it hidden for some other reason?
It’s Egyptian, not Roman. So that’s kind of a big red flag that there’s something going on here. And it’s… creepy. Maybe that’s just me. I have never liked ancient Egypt. I have never found it fascinating. Mummies, and curses, and tombs that want to kill you.
Take out the mummy part and this could be my life.
But I walk over to it now because I have never really given it a proper once-over. Pell doesn’t like it either. He never wants to stop here. In fact, he doesn’t even look at it when we pass by.
It only takes a casual glance to see all the differences though. He’s sitting in a chair. Or maybe a throne? His head is in profile but his body is straight-on, a common trait of ancient Egyptian art and sculptures. And he’s wearing clothes. A skirt, I think. A very short one too.
This makes me snicker, recalling his annoyance with my very first work outfit.
Unlike my office-appropriate skirt, his is brightly colored. Blue and gold, mostly, but with red accents. There are strappy sandals on his feet, the flat kind with laces that wrap around the ankles.
I smirk, coming up with all kinds of ways to tease him about this once we’re back together.
But then I get serious. Because this statue has to mean something. Why Egyptian, when he’s from ancient Rome?
Of course, there is an obvious answer. He’s not from ancient Rome. He’s from ancient Egypt.
I can get on board with this for a couple of reasons.
One. Pell has a very bad memory. He doesn’t even remember who Saint Mark is. And that’s just the start of it. There are gaps there. Lots of them.
And two. The hallway doors brought me here for a reason. Whatever gods, or magic, or curse is running these things wanted me to see this statue.
But these are the only conclusions I can draw. I think the rest is probably up to Pell.