Mother Isis

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The other day a short piece popped into my head that just had to be written. The strange part is that it was in the first person and I normally write in the third person. As I looked at the piece I realized that it would fit incredibly well as a prologue to something I am currently working on. What do you think about a prologue in the first person with the rest of the book being in third person? As always, Happy Reading!

The sand finally settled and I saw the giant silhouette it front of me. It is the most beautiful and lifelike statue I have ever seen. Even in these murky depths I can see her kohl lined eyes glisten with life imploring me to break the eternal curse that was placed on her. If I close my eyes I can still feel her hands gently patting my unruly hair. She is my mother.

I haven’t had the pleasure of sitting at her side since she hid in the mortal world from Mars when the Philopater fell from grace. That was more than a millennia ago. Being part goddess makes me an immortal, someone who always hides from the world. There are a lot of us in this modern world. We all have tragic stories. Even my mother, the Goddess Isis. She was the mother to us all and the invading Romans sealed her great love in this underwater statue that I have for since the curse was applied.

I’m surprised I was able to get the close to her. The immortal children of Mars have blocked my path to my mother for almost eleven hundred years. That was when Mars found her and laid the Roman curse on her. They trapped my great mother Isis in this living withholding her love from the world. Roughly a hundred years ago a mystic roamed the dust bowl and he granted me an audience. The man told me where I could find earth’s salvation. I suppose this means that some mortals do have worth. Perhaps they can save their own civilization.

As I stare at my mother’s beautiful face I smile slightly as I make a solemn vow – I will break this curse and bring her love back to the world. For now though, I must protect her in this form.

I tug on the chain at my waist signaling the crew in the boat above to lower the cedar crate. I will take her home and surround her with the flowers she so loved when she freely roamed the earth. There is an obsidian throne and crown of lapis lazuli waiting for her pleasure. They were all I could save.

My grandchildren will search the earth for the cure to this curse. I vow that my blood will find the alchemists of today. From the ranks of the alchemist my blood will cull the most talented. Whether it be male or female, Master or Kleopatra they will break this curse or we will all suffer. This much is written in the stone at my mother’s feet.

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