Visions of the Past
Hawkman and related characters belong to DC Comics.
Other DC Re-Imagined titles can be found here.
Rating: T (Just covering my bases)
Carter breathed in the smell of the fresh soil. There really was no finer place to be than on the edge of the river Nile, your toes feeling the cool breeze flowing over the water. In a country like Egypt, having something like the Nile running through its centre really was a gift of the gods. Without it, he wasn’t sure what Egypt would be like. Some sort of bandit nation, he assumed. He loved the smell of the Nile in the morning.
“Your highness,” called a man with a hoarse voice. Carter turned, cupping the hilt of the sword hanging from his side. He looked like Hastor; the mad eyes were so very there and they drilled into his own, but the wizard beard wasn’t there. The man’s face was perfectly shaved, shining like some polished stone in the early morning sun. “Chay-Ara is waiting in the temple.”
“Chay-Ara is waiting for me?” Carter asked, trying to recall the name. He’d never heard of the name before. This was confusing. He should be washing in a cold shower before catching a bus to the museum, not engaging in an ancient Egyptian romance. Breathing in, he decided to bluff his way through. “I didn’t expect her to be waiting at this hour.”
“We did rush things along, your highness,” Hastor replied with the hint of a cheeky grin tugging at his lips. He bowed his head, as if waiting for Carter to follow him. He was a ‘your highness’ after all. Waiting just a minute longer to catch the sight of a fishing boat make its way across the river, Carter walked up to Hastor and followed his footsteps through the city. It took a lot to close his eyes to the overwhelming Egyptian quality to the city; the smell of the sand and the sounds of the waking people were like a drug. Walking through the city was like walking through poetry. Carter felt he could spend a thousand years more just walking through the city, not even meeting with the Chay-Ara that Hastor was leading him to.
They ascended the steps of the temple and walked through the colonnade into the actual temple itself. Carter noticed Hastor pulling out a knife, the very knife that he’d been shown note nine hours before in his office. That proved that this was a dream. Carter noted to himself to possibly see his psychiatrist; old men and knives probably wasn’t the most normal thing for a man to be dreaming. He heard the voice of a woman from near the back of the room, muffled and indistinct but definitely saying something. Carter stepped forward, into the shadows, as he felt an arm grab him around the chest.
“Goodbye, Prince Knufu,” Hastor whispered. The knife delicately ran its way across his throat and he could feel the blood beginning to pour.
Carter screamed, wrapping himself in his sheets and struggling to calm himself down. He was still in his bed, not in a temple and definitely not having his throat slit. His room was dark. The sheets were covered in sweat and from the dim light barely pouring through the window Carter knew it wasn’t even dawn. The knife across his throat, beardless Hastor, Egypt; it was all just a nightmare. None of it had actually happened.
To Be Continued.