Not Another King Tutankhamon Book!: Neferkheperura & The Legend of the Golden Pharaoh
Not Another King Tutankhamon Book!
Neferkheperura & The Legend of the Golden Pharaoh
(Young Adults; Historical Fiction, Adventure)
Though
truth is for philosophers and fact is for Archaeologists, contemporary
thinking leads to stereotyping. Now what if Pharaoh Akhenaton had been a
drug-addict who let his country go to ruin while pursuing a lofty
religious interpretation of the Science of the Sun? Hemp fragments were
found in his tomb once and Egyptians did have access to Poppy flowers
and Blue Lotus blossoms. Now say this same person was exiled from Egypt
for his actions, and returned some 43 years later to reclaim his People
of the Sun (not the Biblical error of 430 years)? Then he discovers
immortality, which allows him to create technology for a future savior
or superhero...
Copyright (c) 2014 Michael J. Costa, All rights reserved.
NeferKheperura and the Legend of the Golden Pharaoh - By Michael J.
Costa, (c) 2014: $14.00 USD ppbk.
Excerpt:
Four Hours Later, Michael Beshter’s Apartment,
New York, USA Was it wrong to bring Vivian back to his living space?
His identity was safe for now. Michael and Vivian dined in that night,
via room service in a secure room. A common delight: NY Steak, mashed
potatoes with gravy, and a melody of fresh veggies with a fine white
wine from California was the main course. Dessert was a rich chocolate
Mud Pie, served for two. Afterwards, Michael showed her his various
framed College papers, some Degrees, and a trophy for first place in a
College Kung Fu tournament. These he had brought over from his original
home some 2 Miles away, much to the approval of his sister. Vivian
educated him about her background and social life. She was born in Las
Vegas, Nevada to a civil engineer and an office secretary, both of
European descent. She graduated with honors from a private university
before moving to New York, where she was employed as a Fashion Designer
for the last 14 years. Her choice of apartment coincided when the Museum
moved in several floors above her. Her neighbor is a local Nightclub
owner, so her social life revolved around learning to dance and filling
beverage orders from patrons. While teaching Michael to dance, Vivian
realized the time. “Oh my, it’s late... I have to feed my cat, you
know,” she said. “I can call my driver,” Michael reminded her. “It won’t
take up much of your time.” “Really? Oh that would be so cool,” she
said. “Michael?” “Yes?” “I just want to thank you for everything,
really. You’ve been a great Host, and friend,” Vivian said. “Um, by the
way, why is there a red light focused on your back?” “What red light?”
he asked. “It’s coming from your window,” Vivian noticed. Suddenly two
loud pops hit the glass from behind them. Vivian thought a champagne
bottle exploded until her right hand felt some liquid drop from his
back. Then she screamed. “MICHAEL!” she yelled. “You’ve been shot!”
Michael Beshter collapsed to the tiled floor, with her holding onto him.
He inched towards her, whispering something. “Get my ring. It’s in the
front pocket of my blazer,” Hysterical, Vivian searched frantically for
the correct pocket. “I found it!” “Quick, hand me it,” he said in pain.
“What’s a ring supposed to...?” she asked. Michael placed the ring on
his right third finger, and then rubbed it until it lit up like a light
bulb. He rubbed his back with it. The blood disappeared as did the rifle
pellet. Vivian backed away. “What the Hell just happened?” she said
while cowering from the window. Michael started to stand up, and then
reached for his cell phone and pressed 996*. Panels fell from the
ceiling, blocking all windows with bullet-proof armor. The back
bookshelf wall rotated around on an invisible turn-table, revealing a
set of mannequins wearing Flight Suits with the Green Stones on them.
Three computer terminals popped into place, all active. And a chair
emerged from the floor, with console components on the arm rests. A
camera fed images to the view screen of the surrounding area as the
female-voiced computer gave instructions on audio. Michael Beshter
groggily walked to the station and was seated. He removed a tube from
the side of the chair and placed it into his mouth, drinking slowly. It
was medicine for a post-traumatic gunshot disorder. His Flight Suit was
visible to Vivian, as she investigated his equipment, and then turned to
him with her mouth gaping open in astonishment. “Oh my God, you’re that
guy...” she said. Michael briefly kissed her face, and then started
programming.
MC 2020.
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