The Pond of Love
Part Two
'You're awake.' A statement, not a question. I groaned in reply. My body slowly began to join my brain in its alertness, and pain erupted across it.
'It will hurt for some time.' The voice moved away and suddenly something cold was at my lips. I tried to open my eyes, but it was so bright I scrunched them closed again. I gulped down a cool liquid. I didn't realise how hot it was, or how thirsty I was until I had swallowed. Heat seemed to rise from the ground to sizzle around me, and I felt sweat begin to pool on my lower back.
'Thank you,' I whispered harshly, coughing loudly. My throat felt like it was shredded. I opened my eyes slowly this time, letting them adjust to the blinding light around me.
I half-expected to be in a hospital. I expected fluorescent lights and the smell of antibacterial disinfectant and the steady beat from a heart monitor. Instead, I awoke to a giant mural of a ram's head painted on a stone ceiling. The bed I laid on was less of a bed a more of a simple flat stone. Instead of the chunky, semi-soft pillow of a hospital, my head rested on a square stone which made my neck ache.
The ceiling was held up by four stone pillars, one in each corner. Each pillar had something carved onto it, but I couldn't quite see. Instead of walls, soft white mesh-like curtains hung from the roof and draped until it touched the sandy ground. The material closest to my bed blew in the wind gently, rising to reveal a sandy dune to my right that stretched out as far as I could see. I felt calm. Too calm for the situation I was in. I jerked my head to the left, not caring that it cracked loudly in protest.
A shirtless man stood with his back facing me. The curtains were parted wrapped around pillars, opening the large gazebo up to the view of water. He stood for a moment, watching the water. A white piece of linen wrapped low around his waist, tied together with a brilliant gold rope. Rippling muscles curled under skin the colour of a deep caramel; it was smooth and unblemished, without a hint of sweat even in this gruelling heat. I struggled to sit up as my broken arm was wrapped tightly to my torso. The man turned around to look at me. I watched him silently in return. His bare feet carried him forward smoothly until he stood in front of me.
'That was some fall.' His voice was deep but soft-spoken. He had piercing pale blue eyes which seemed at odds with his darker skin and hair. He was gorgeous, but even that word seemed not good enough to describe him.
'Thank you for helping me,' I replied softly. I looked down at my body, broken and bruised yet healing. I had material strapped tightly around various hurting parts of my body, and loose white linen enveloped me in a make-shift dress. I felt slightly embarrassed and hoped it wasn't the gorgeous man who'd undressed me.
'Well, I'm not one to ignore begging humans.'
He moved away and sat in a wooden chair facing the foot of my stone bed. It was low to the ground and covered in golden embellishments which looked uncomfortable to sit on. My brain was fuzzy and slow as I tried to think about what I should be asking.
'Where are we?'
'This is my home.' He leant back comfortable and kicked his feet up, so they rested on the edge of the bed.
'And where is that?' I probed, flicking the thin blanket off my legs.
'You can't walk yet.' I ignored him and stood up, only to promptly crumble back to the bed. He didn't bother saying "I told you so" because I could read it on his face.
'I need to call my boss. She thinks I'm dead.' He watched me curiously.
'What makes you think you're not dead?'
'What?' I laughed. 'What sort of question is that? Of course, I'm not dead.' I waved my arm around as though it showed my aliveness. He looked unconvinced and I narrowed my eyes at him. 'Who are you, anyway? How did you find me?'
'I didn't find you. You found me.'
I scrunched my face in disbelief. 'Uh, no I didn't. You found me. In the water.'
'Yes, after you fell in my pond.'
'Okay,' I seethed between teeth, trying to keep my cool. 'Well, who are you?'
'It's only polite to give your name when asking for one.'
My head throbbed in pain and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to breathe normally. It was so hot, I could barely focus. It's okay, Etta, just calm down and think logically. You fell in a pond. This guy found you. If he wanted to hurt you, he could have. Instead, he fixed you up.
'My name is Etta. Etta Mae.' I opened my eyes. 'And you are?'
The man waited for a moment, before crossing his arms behind his head and replying, 'My name is Amon.'
I let out a shaky breath. There's nothing wrong with that, Etta. I'm sure lots of people have the name Amon. And have ancient Egyptian beds and chairs. And wear nothing but linen skirts. But the whole situation wasn't right—there were too many coincidences. I was exploring the shrine of Amon-Re and fell through into a pond where this man who calls himself Amon saves me and says I fell into his pond?
'Why didn't you take me to the hospital?' I demanded, not looking at him as the facts began to sink in.
'We don't have hospitals here.'
'Why not?'
'No one needs them.'
'Why don't you need them?'
'Because we don't get hurt.'
'Why don't you get hurt?' My defiance had lessened with each question, and now I was whispering. I almost didn't want to hear him answer.
'I think you've figured out why.'
I looked at him and he cocked an eyebrow at me expectantly. Tears welled in my eyes as I realised, I was probably dead. The literal god Amon was sitting across from me. Amon sat up and watched me warily as I began to sob.
'Don't cry,' he said, getting up and moving closer. His hand reached out for me, but he pulled it back as I cried out, no longer able to hold the tears in. I cried for me. For my death. For everything I worked so hard for, only to stuff it all up in the end. Sweat dripped down my back as I sat there, crying.
'Please, don't cry,' he begged softly. I felt his hands touch my knees and I looked up, my dark eyes meeting his pale ones. He knelt in front of me. 'Why are you crying?'
'Because,' I sobbed harder, using the back of my hand to wipe snot from my nose. 'I've- I'm dead!'
He made a small noise in the back of his throat as though he pitied me, like a half-hearted chuckle. 'Oh, you're not dead,' he replied softly.
'Really?' I asked, breathing in deep as the tears continue streaming down my face. I hiccupped, looking at him in hope.
'Yes well...' he stood up, pulling his hands away from my knees. 'You're still alive for now.'
'For now?' I hiccupped again and a small sob forced itself from my body. I took a shaky breath. 'What does that mean?'
'Humans shouldn't be here. Your bodies they're not...compatible with this world.' He walked away from me and stared out across the pond.
'Okay.' I took a deep breath and clenched the material of my dress tightly, thinking about my options. 'How long do I have?'
'That depends.'
'On what?' My eyes ached as a crying-headache settled in behind them. All I wanted to do was crawl into a nice, soft bed and wrap myself up in a warm, fluffy blanket and rest my head on something that wasn't stone.
'On your body. How long it takes you to heal. Your spiritual strength.' I didn't like the sound of that. I wasn't religious at all. 'You don't have to be religious to have a strong spirit.'
'Did you just—'
'No, I can't read your mind. I'm not that type of god.' I gasped slightly.
He was a god. I mean, I'd had my thoughts, my imaginations. But for him to just come out and say it? Suddenly it felt all too real. He was a real-to-honest god. He was Amon. The Amon. He said he can't read minds...but could I trust him? Wouldn't anyone who could read minds say that? It seemed a bit inconvenient having others knowing that you can hear them. If he couldn't read my mind, then how could he—
'I can just read your face.' He looked over his shoulder and sent me a small smirk, a chuckle escaping his plush lips. 'You're not very good at hiding your expressions.'
I blushed a deep red and looked down at my hands, shuffling my short hair so it covered my face. Oh my god, this was so embarrassing. If he could read me that clearly, he must know I thought he was the most gorgeous person I'd ever seen. And that when I saw his abs, I briefly thought for a second about running my fingers along them. I coughed lightly to cover my embarrassment.
'So, how do I get home?'
He kept his eyes on the water as he replied, 'You heal first. You won't make the journey as you are now.'
I nodded my head and sat for a moment, letting myself breathe in and process what the fuck just happened to my life. The headache behind my eyes swirled and morphed until it throbbed along both temples and ached down my jaw.
'Heal first,' I muttered to myself, pulling my legs back onto the hard bed and laying myself down. Oddly, the stone pillow was slightly comfortable. Or maybe I was just that tired.
I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the throbbing pain of my entire body. Light footsteps wandered closer, but I kept my eyes closed; partly because I was nervous and partly because my eyes felt like they weighed fifteen tonnes. A calloused finger touched my forehead gently.
'What are you doing?' My voice grated against my headache.
'Sleep tight, Etta,' he whispered.
Warmth spread from his finger through my body and down my spine. It was soothing, like honey for a sore throat, and somehow cooling. My body relaxed into the stone bed as though it were made from water. Some part of me thought I should stay awake, be alert, make sure I was safe; but the other part, the more tired and injured part, decided to sink low and swim in the ocean of sleep.
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