Rise of the Wadjet Witch - By Juliet C. Obodo Page 0,10

cool power. It is not the Sun; this light belongs to you. It is you.”

Memphis got up from the couch and began to walk toward the light. It was not warm or golden like the Sun. It was a light lavender color, almost white, and very cool. It pulled her forward; she felt the gentle vacuum. She looked around at her surroundings. She was no longer in the office; she was in some sort of tunnel, and pictures projected onto the walls. The moving images were scenes from her life. She wanted to stop to examine them. One was the time she met Jill, and there was one of the day she arrived at her foster home. There was even a scene of the first time her foster mother, Janet, hit her.

She looked away from the image of the little girl crying on the kitchen floor. She was no longer that little girl. She focused on the light. It had become brighter and she was finally upon it. It illuminated a doorway. She walked through and found herself standing on a rock surrounded by water. She didn’t see any way she could continue, unless she swam across. She looked down but was unable to gauge the water’s depth. Instead of panicking, a wave of calm went over her. She knew what to do. She dove into the water. She did not need to move her arms to swim. The currents overwhelmed her and they became one. She continued until she spotted another doorway. The water had parted and created an opening. She went through it.

She felt warmth on her face when she arrived on the other side. She realized that she was barefoot when she felt the grass between her toes. She looked up and saw that she was surrounded by columns that alternated between black and white. Some seemed to descend from the purple sky, and the others came up from the ground. They formed a path. She followed it while looking up at the sky. There were no clouds, no sun or moon, yet there was light. She suddenly felt like she was falling—she had not been paying attention and the path had ended. She had walked right off a cliff, but she was not afraid. She did not scream as she went through the portal. This was the way to her center—to her true self.

She landed softly on the floor of a marble room. It was cool and gray. There was an actual door instead of an opening. She walked over to it, only to find that there wasn’t a knob. It was engraved with an equal-armed cross. She touched the center of the cross and it became three-dimensional. She rotated it clockwise. The door opened and she passed through.

She was in what looked like a desert at night. She looked up; there wasn’t a moon, yet there was light like moonbeams. It illuminated a path and she followed it to a mass of rocks. She examined the massive pile that towered over her and saw engravings. She attempted to read them and determine where the next portal was. The symbols suddenly formed words that she could read and understand. “This is the Gate of the Moon. You have left the Gate of Man.”

An open door appeared, and through it she could see a woman or a child—she could not tell which. The person was small, but a gray veil covered her face. She wore something that resembled a burka, and it was also gray. She signaled for her to enter, and neither of them spoke.

Memphis was now inside the pile of rocks—it was in a cave. The female closed the door and pointed in the other direction. Memphis began to walk ahead of her. She walked for what seemed like a mile. When she finally turned to ask where the next door was, the female was gone. She was now alone.

She continued to walk and noticed sheets of papyrus on the ground. She bent down and began to collect them until she had quite a large stack. The sheets started to vibrate and morphed into a book with a dark cover. It had no title. She moved to open it when suddenly the female reappeared. She still wore a veil and a burka, but they were now orange.

She traced a doorway into the cave’s wall with her index finger. A door appeared and it was bright; it looked like it had caught fire. The fire extinguished,