A house of mystery

(note - this is unfinished, but worth a peek)

There was something unusual about that house standing starkly on its own, close to a stretch of open land leading to the forest above the edge of town. It was unusual because the nearest neighbours couldn't tell you if the place was occupied or not. If it was, they knew nothing of the people there now, nor any who'd occupied it in the past. The vacant lots that separated it from other dwellings were kept neat and tidy, and despite being in the better part of town had remained unsold over many years. Further, no one knew who was paying for the regular upkeep of the house and empty land around it. The lawyer who paid the local caretaker did so from regular deposits to his own accounts from sources overseas. Sources he said he'd been unable to trace. You can understand therefore, why rumours about the place waxed and waned so that it became a house of mystery and speculation with the passing of the years.

My connection with the place began one Friday afternoon a few weeks after I'd turned fourteen, by which time I'd added a dash of bravado to the still impressionable and inquisitive side of my life. School had finished early for some reason on that particular day, so I decided to go the long way home, taking me past the house. My friends had other things to do, so I went alone.

I need to tell you that about a month earlier a radio programme about Egypt, the pyramids and King Tutankhamun's tomb had seized hold of my interest and imagination as no programme had done before or since. It had me literally quivering with excitement. The broadcast had ended with a musician playing a few notes from several trumpets found in the tomb. My senses soared as the air trembled with their magic sounds, lifting my thoughts to a higher plane. Then, just for a moment, it seemed as if I'd been taken and ushered back in time through a curtain in my mind. I found myself as an Egyptian boy, standing in a crowd by the banks of the River Nile, listening to musicians as they played for their king. I'm not sure how long the experience lasted but my mother's voice broke through my thoughts and the curtain closed again.

It's not surprising therefore, that the pyramids and King Tutankhamun were on my mind as the house on the corner came into view. As I drew closer I saw with some surprise that the front door was open and a man was beckoning to me. Without any hesitation I crossed the road and started down the driveway toward the front door. Then I began to think my mind was playing tricks with me, for the closer I got, the less distinct the image of the man became. By the time I'd reached the half-closed front door, there was no one to be seen .
Unsure of myself, I hesitated before I knocked and pushed the door fully open. All doubts were driven from my mind as I saw the distinguished looking man standing in a doorway at the end of a hallway, smiling and beckoning me to join him. The carpet down the centre of the hallway together with rich tapestries covering the walls, spoke of wealth such as I had never known, as I made my way down to where he was waiting. As he stood to one side inviting me enter, his dark facial features and cultured accent left me in no doubt that he was from the east.

A slight click indicated the man had closed the door after me and in a cultured voice tinged with a foreign accent said, "Well Raymond, we meet at last. You are most welcome to my house, my library and collection of artefacts from overseas. Please look around while I arrange for some refreshments. Then we can talk." It wasn't until the door had closed after him that I realised I hadn't told him my name, and something about his features suggested I'd seen him before. It was both puzzling and yet strangely reassuring.

Shelves of books lining the walls, together with small display cases, chairs and a long table occupying the centre indicated I was in a library. Descending from the ceiling which tapered to a point like the top of a pyramid, there came a soft warm light. As I walked around, I found the books were mainly about the land and history of Egypt, as were objects in the display cases and it seemed quite natural that it should be so. On his return, he introduced himself as Abdel Selim Hassan, one time Inspector of Antiquities at Luxor. As he talked, I felt completely relaxed and yet was aware that my mind was registering, with a clarity that I had never known before, all that was being said.

The one thing I'm not sure about, was how long we talked, but before I left he led me to an open display case which contained amulets of various kinds, inviting me to take one as his gift to me. I felt it would have been wrong to refuse. They were beautiful, with coloured gem stones set in what looked silver. I chose one in the form of a scarab. The stone was a beautiful green with a few signs engraved around the edges.

Judging by the look Abdel gave me, there was something about my choice which impressed him and an excitement shone in his eyes as he said, "I see you have a small mole on your left wrist, Raymond. Would you let me examine it, please?" I nodded and he led me to a small desk in an alcove. What happened next took my breath away, for I was certainly not prepared for the revelation that was made that day. First he asked me to sit down and place my arm under the desk-light, which he switched on. Then he took a magnifying glass from a drawer in the desk and held it just above the mole on my wrist. At the same time, a panel opened on the wall above it, revealing a pale yellow screen, and there, in the centre of the mole was a replica of the scarab I'd selected as Abdel's gift to me.

From that time on all I had to do was visualise the curtain in my mind and it was there to pass through. At first I experienced an exciting variety of adventures, triggered off by stories I'd heard or read at home or school. As I grew older I found a wonderful clarity and sharpness was added to my comprehension, which expanded and broadened my boyhood experiences. No one else was aware of this ability which had come upon me, though I had the feeling my mother sensed something.

There was a development two years later, when other curtains began to appear beyond the first one, which I ignored, until the tug to pass through them became more insistent. Now, ten years on, I intend to journey down the River Nile and then into the desert...

(unfinished)
Dennis Crompton © 1997
(first published on www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2012)