Verne in Ancient Egypt. ®.

 Verne in Ancient Egypt.  ®. 

Short Novel.

Metaphysical and Mystical

Episode XI. Series Dreaming Verne.

Metaphysical and Mystical Short Novel. 

Author: Jorge Ofitas.  ®. 

(In English language)

Introduction: 

The Master of Adventure in the Land of the Nile. 

Verne arrives in Ancient Egypt by inexplicable means, a world of pyramids under construction and majestic temples. Captured and brought before the enigmatic Queen Nefertiti, he introduces himself as a "traveler from the future" and a "novelist." Invited to stay in the palace, Verne becomes fascinated by the queen and her family, dedicating himself to capturing his astonishing experience in a narrative. However, at a royal banquet, the question from High Priest Meryre about the nature of his potion reveals an inescapable truth: each journey is unique, and the return is always a different starting point. Before his inevitable return to his own time, Verne leaves an indelible legacy: a papyrus with his story, a bridge between eras that forever seals his connection with the Egyptian royalty.

 Verne in Ancient Egypt. ®. 

His experience in the distant lands of the wise Chinese Laozi had made him transcend a part of a heroic mystique he was unaware of. However, for a long time, he had wanted to visit what he called "the dream of the West.

With his finger, he rubbed, as if it were Aladdin's lamp, a small sphinx he had bought in Cairo many years ago. He looked up and saw his book on ancient Egypt, stood up, and picked it up. He placed it on his desk, closed his eyes, and opened the book. There it was, the image of Pharaoh Akhenaten and his wife Nefertiti. After this, he took his lozenge and seconds later disappeared...

Second Stage: Nefertiti and the Nile

The time carriage stopped with a whistle that was lost amidst the murmur of an unknown tongue. Jules Verne, with the unmistakable travel dust covering his trench coat, opened his eyes, and the first thing that struck him was the sun. An unforgiving sun, different from that of Parisian mornings, pouring over a reddish-ochre landscape. There were no trains or stations, only a vast horizon of sand and, in the distance, the imposing silhouette of a pyramid under construction, still lacking the polished gleam of its casings. The air vibrated with the clamor of thousands of voices, the rhythmic tapping of chisels on stone, and the dragging of heavy slabs.

A sticky sweat beaded his forehead. Verne took off his hat and wiped himself with his sleeve, feeling the rough texture of his clothes, thick linen and simple sandals. No trace of his pocket watch or brass compass; instead, he wore an amulet with a carved eye that felt strangely familiar. Around him, men in loincloths and bare torsos, some with sun-weathered skin and others younger with hope still intact in their eyes, worked under the invisible whip of urgency. This was not the Egypt of postcards or romantic tales, but that of brute force and iron will. "It seems destiny has brought me to the very heart of a civilization born of the Nile and stone," he murmured to himself, as a barge laden with immense blocks slowly passed by the river, cutting through the silence with the rhythmic chant of the rowers.

Verne reached the bank of the Nile River. He realized he had traveled thousands of years into the past. He realized he was not alone, as there were two guards watching him. He didn't have time to react because the guards immediately took him by force without harming him, but they led him to a small house in the desert.

There they left him and hurried away to deliver the news. After a while, the two guards returned with a maiden carrying a note. It was a note from Queen Nefertiti for Verne. The maiden told him that the queen wished to meet him and wanted her to bring him into her presence.

Upon arriving at the gardens, the beauty was overwhelming. There, seated on a portable throne under a pergola of lotus flowers, awaited Nefertiti, the Great Royal Wife. Beside her, two of her daughters, girls with curious and lively eyes, watched the newcomer with astonishment.

Nefertiti, with a calm that belied the extraordinary situation, examined him from head to toe. Her voice, a soft melody yet invested with undeniable authority, filled the air. "Who are you, who appear from nowhere in my gardens? Where do you come from, traveler?"

Verne, still processing the unreality of his situation, introduced himself as Jules Verne, "traveler from the future," a man who "wrote novels." Nefertiti listened to him with unwavering calm, her eyes fixed on him, weighing every word. The sparkle in her gaze betrayed her: the queen was a woman of eager mind, thirsty for knowledge. One of the princesses, bolder, inquired: "Are you the traveler from the future who writes novels?"

Nefertiti, with an enigmatic smile, extended an invitation that would change his destiny: "No matter where you come from, the question is, would you stay here in the palace forever?" The proposal echoed in the air, an invitation to immortality.

Third Stage: Dreaming in the Gardens

After the queen and her small retinue departed, Verne felt guided by servants to his own chambers. The journey, or at least this stage, had begun.

Nefertiti's invitation to stay "forever" echoed in the air, a tempting melody in the heart of Ancient Egypt. Verne felt the weight of the proposal, an offer few in his time could even imagine. With the queen and her retinue already on their way, Verne gave a slight nod, as if assenting to an undeniable truth, or perhaps, to a promise he could not yet utter.

He then turned on his heels and, following the figure of a servant who was already waiting for him, began the walk back down the grand corridor. The four warriors of the pharaoh's personal guard moved with him, maintaining their silent but imposing presence, escorting him back to the chambers that had been assigned to him.

Upon reaching the door of his room, the warriors bowed and withdrew, finally leaving him alone. The vast chamber felt both familiar and unknown.

Soon after settling in, Nefertiti herself entered his chambers, unannounced, accompanied only by her six daughters. The atmosphere shifted. The air filled with the delicate scent of lotus and jasmine emanating from the queen, mixed with the innocent freshness of the girls. The room was illuminated by the vibrant colors of their attire: the deep blues of royal linens, the gold of their jewelry, the immaculate white of the children's tunics. Nefertiti arrived not with formality, but with genuine curiosity. Her eyes, framed by delicate kohl, sparkled with palpable intelligence as she observed Verne and his unusual attire. The princesses, for their part, moved with the lightness of butterflies, their soft laughter filling the space as they curiously examined every object in the room. Nefertiti motioned for Verne to sit on an embroidered velvet cushion, and she sat on a smaller portable throne, while her daughters sat around on the floor, their eyes fixed on the newcomer. This intimate encounter in his own space solidified the connection between the traveler and royalty, allowing Nefertiti to question him further about his world and his inventions.

After this encounter, Nefertiti invited Verne for a morning stroll through the palace's vast and labyrinthine gardens. Under the golden light of the Egyptian dawn, which tinted the Nile with a rosy glow, they walked among paths lined with date palms, murmuring fountains, and ponds filled with lotus flowers. The air was heavy with the sweet perfume of myrrh incense and the fresh scent of exotic plants that grew in abundance. The princesses, radiant in their brightly colored linen tunics – sky blues, emerald greens, and soft pinks – frolicked through the gardens, their childish laughter echoing like tiny bells. Verne watched in wonder as the golden and reddish hues of exotic birds fluttered among the lush vegetation, and how brightly colored fish swam in the crystal-clear ponds. Nefertiti, with her unwavering serenity, pointed out different species of plants and flowers, sharing the knowledge of her kingdom with natural grace. They spoke of astronomy, philosophy, and the stars, revealing a surprising affinity of minds despite the millennia that separated them. This stroll, a symphony of colors, sounds, and fragrances, deepened Verne's astonishment at that civilization and solidified the peculiar friendship that was blossoming.

Verne wasted no time. His eyes fell upon a small ebony table near the window, where a blank papyrus scroll and an inkwell with a reed pen already lay. Without a second thought, he sat down, took the pen, and with his heart still vibrating from the encounter, began to write. The first words of his account of the fascinating journey to Egypt flowed, filled with the golden light, the scent of incense, and the enigmatic smile of Queen Nefertiti.

Before dinner time arrived, Verne had finished his short story about his journey to ancient Egypt of Akhenaten, Nefertiti, and their six daughters. He only needed to include the grand dinner with Akhenaten, and he would finish it after dinner, as time was pressing and he had to return to his century.

Fourth Stage: Encounter with Akhenaten

The afternoon gave way to night, and the air, now cooler, carried the unmistakable scent of the Nile. Verne, already dressed in fine linen tunics that had been provided for him, was guided by silent servants to the grand banquet hall. It was not merely a room, but an experience in itself.

The dining hall was a vast expanse of elegance and splendor. Its large open arches, supported by slender columns carved with golden hieroglyphs, offered direct views of the majestic Nile River. The breeze that entered carried the murmur of its waters and the sweet perfume of the exuberant gardens that surrounded it, filled with intense blue lotus flowers and white jasmines opening to the moon.

The atmosphere was saturated with colors and fragrances. The walls, adorned with frescoes depicting divine feats, reflected the light of countless oil lamps, creating a golden and amber glow that mingled with the deep green of potted giant plants and the reddish-orange of sumptuous fabrics. The air vibrated with the scent of myrrh incense and lotus, and the subtle sweetness of freshly cut exotic fruits.

Amidst the opulence, a wide variety of exquisite servants moved with an almost choreographed grace. Dressed in immaculate linen tunics, adorned with brilliant beaded necklaces, they carried trays laden with delicacies and golden goblets. Their movements were fluid, their smiles discreet yet warm, anticipating every need without a word, creating an atmosphere of impeccable service and unparalleled luxury. The murmur of the court, already gathered, was a low, respectful sound, mingling with the soft music of harps and flutes.

Just at the entrance of the hall, awaiting his arrival, stood the six little princesses, their faces illuminated by radiant smiles. Upon seeing Verne, their eyes sparkled mischievously, and one of them exclaimed with contagious joy: "Welcome, Verne!"

Verne smiled warmly at the little princesses, whose enthusiasm was a balm for his spirit. As he entered the vast dining hall, surrounded by opulence and the murmur of the court, one of the girls, her eyes full of expectation, quietly asked him: "Have you finished the book?"

"Now, now I'll finish it," Verne replied with a promise in his voice, giving them a knowing look before his eyes turned towards the head of the great table.

At that moment, a reverent silence fell over the hall. Everyone's attention focused on the entrance of Pharaoh Akhenaten. His figure, imposing and serene, advanced with undeniable dignity. With a gesture of his hand, it was indicated that it was time to take a seat.

Akhenaten sat at the center of the table, at the head. To his right, with her usual grace, sat the radiant Nefertiti. To the pharaoh's left, in a place of honor that surprised Verne, he himself was invited to sit. Around them, the court, in a display of colors and jewels, took their respective places, creating a circle of power and majesty around the unusual central trio.

Just before the delicacies were served and the goblets raised, a subtle shift in the music indicated the beginning of a performance. From a corner of the hall, a group of dancers emerged, their bodies covered with light veils that revealed more than they concealed. To the rhythm of harps and other subtle instruments, weaving a hypnotic melody, they began a beautiful tantric court dance.

The movements were fluid and deliberate, each turn and gesture charged with sensual and spiritual symbolism. Their hands drew shapes in the air, their bodies intertwined and separated with an ethereal grace, telling an ancient story of union and energy, of the earthly and the divine. The air filled with an aura of mysticism and beauty, captivating the attention of all, including Verne, who watched fascinated by the cultural depth of that civilization. A soft but audible applause spread through the court, an acknowledgment of the grace and art of the spectacle.

Then, with a palpable solemnity that dominated the splendor of the banquet, High Priest Meryre, Akhenaten's highest religious authority, rose from his seat. His figure, enveloped in immaculate robes and adorned with sacred insignia, radiated an authority as ancient as the gods. With a gaze that encompassed the entire assembly, and a reverence towards the Pharaoh, he raised his hand to ask to speak. The entire hall fell silent.

Meryre directed his penetrating gaze towards Verne. There was no judgment in his eyes, only deep curiosity and respect. With a slowness that denoted solemnity, Meryre bowed his head in a deep reverence towards Verne, a gesture of deference that surprised the writer.

"Master Verne, traveler from the future," Meryre began, his voice resounding with imposing clarity through the great hall. "I want you to answer a question for me. With your potion, is it possible to travel twice to the same place?"

Meryre's question, so precise and direct about the heart of his journey, captured Verne's attention. The silence in the hall was absolute, everyone awaiting his answer. Verne rose from his chair, his face reflecting a mixture of respect and the seriousness of the moment. With an elegance he had quickly learned to adopt, he bowed deeply to the High Priest and the Pharaoh.

"No, High Priest of Pharaoh Akhenaten," Verne replied clearly, his voice resonating in the solemnity of the banquet. "With my potion, it is not possible to travel twice to the same place." The firmness of his words left a pause in the air, an unalterable truth about the nature of his extraordinary method of travel.

It was then that Nefertiti rose with fluid grace, her radiant figure capturing all eyes. The queen spoke, and her voice, sweet yet firm, filled the space. Her gaze rested on Verne, not with pity, but with an almost ancient understanding. "Master Verne," Nefertiti began, her tone thoughtful. "I understand your words. The threads of time are vast and mysterious, even for us. It seems your potion, though it allows you to cross the veils of existence, also binds you to an inescapable return. Each journey is, in itself, a complete circle."

"That is so, Madam," Verne said, nodding slowly, his gaze meeting Nefertiti's in a moment of mutual understanding. With a serene smile, the queen proclaimed: "And now, everyone, to eat."

Instantly, the hall filled with a soft bustle. The exquisite servants who had patiently waited at the margins moved diligently, presenting a dazzling variety of delicacies. Plates of roasted birds, delicately prepared Nile fish, baskets overflowing with exotic fruits, fragrant breads, and bowls of honey and dates began to fill the great table. Golden and alabaster goblets were raised, and the soft music of harps and flutes rose slightly, marking the beginning of the lavish banquet.

As the delicious delicacies were served and conversation flowed around him, Verne participated in the dinner with apparent normality, exchanging smiles and gestures of appreciation for the hospitality. But beneath the lavish tablecloth, his hand moved with discretion and determination. Taking advantage of every moment of general distraction, he continued to glide his pen over the papyrus, weaving the last sentences of his chronicle. The air filled with the murmur of the court, the soft music, and the aromas of the food, but for Verne, the true banquet was that of the words he poured into his story, "Verne in Ancient Egypt," hurrying every line before his inevitable departure. He only needed to include the grand dinner, and his story would be complete before time ran out and he had to return to his century.

With a final stroke, Verne felt the satisfaction of having put the finishing touch. Discreetly, he slid his hand and extracted it, an immaculate papyrus scroll containing the story of his journey. His gaze then turned to one of the Court secretaries who stood, observing the banquet with an attentive but discreet posture. Verne gave him a barely perceptible signal. The secretary, trained for observation and service, immediately approached. Without a word, Verne handed him the rolled papyrus. The secretary received it with a bow, and as he took it, the eight papyri resonated with a soft, dry thud, a sound that, though discreet, marked the conclusion of the work.

Verne nodded slightly, indicating the importance of the content. The secretary, upon closer inspection, noticed that the scroll was not a single one, but was composed of eight individual papyri, carefully rolled and tied together. Each of them, to his astonishment, had a name. There was one for Pharaoh Akhenaten, another for Queen Nefertiti, and the remaining six papyri bore the names of the six princesses: Meritaten, Meketaten, Ankhesenpaaten, Neferneferuaten Tasherit, Neferneferure, and Setepenre. It was a dedicated account, personalized for each member of the royal family. The secretary, understanding the magnitude of the gift, did not hesitate. With utmost care, he placed the eight papyri on an exquisite platinum tray, which had been precisely arranged for such offerings.

Fifth Stage: The Farewell and the Eternal Legacy

The secretary, with the precious platinum tray laden with the eight papyri, waited discreetly. The murmur of the banquet continued, but a subtle change in the atmosphere occurred when Verne, with visible determination, rose from his seat. The gaze of Pharaoh Akhenaten and Queen Nefertiti fell upon him, as did those of the curious princesses.

Verne wasted no time. He spoke, his voice clear and resonant in the grand hall.

"Pharaoh Akhenaten, Queen Nefertiti, beloved princesses, and worthy members of this court," Verne began, his gaze encompassing all present. "In my culture, we honor momentous occasions by engraving them in words, so that memory may endure through the ages." He turned slightly towards the Pharaoh. "And to you, Pharaoh Akhenaten, I have dedicated this humble attempt to immortalize the greatness I have witnessed."

Verne gestured towards the tray held by the secretary. "This account, which I have had the honor of writing right here, narrates my astonishing journey to your time. It is not only for Your Majesty, but also for the radiant Queen Nefertiti, and for each of your luminous daughters: Meritaten, Meketaten, Ankhesenpaaten, Neferneferuaten Tasherit, Neferneferure, and Setepenre."

Then, Verne addressed Pharaoh Akhenaten: "Pharaoh Akhenaten," he said, his voice filled with sincere gratitude, "thank you for your immeasurable hospitality. It has been an unparalleled honor to set foot in your lands and share such precious time in your court."

His gaze shifted affectionately towards the radiant Queen Nefertiti. "And to you, Queen Nefertiti, for your immense graciousness, your wisdom, and the warmth with which you have welcomed me, my gratitude is as vast as the Nile." A soft murmur of appreciation rippled through the hall.

Verne then looked at the six little princesses, his eyes shining with a mixture of affection and melancholy. Each of them represented the innocence and curiosity of a time he would soon have to leave.

Finally, Verne turned his attention to High Priest Meryre. "And to you, High Priest, I wish to salute your sacred wisdom and thank you for understanding my charge in this multiverse mission." The gaze between them, one between ancient knowledge and the future, was deep and meaningful.

But instead of speaking further, something astonishing began to happen. A soft vibration began to ripple through Verne's body, a faint glow seemed to surround him, and his figure, little by little, began to become transparent, as if he were vanishing into thin air. Disbelief painted the faces of the court.

With serene urgency, Verne extended a hand and asked the secretary for the tray with the eight papyri. The secretary, stunned by the sight, handed it over without hesitation. With each movement, Verne became more ethereal, but his determination was unwavering.

The truth is that Verne had time to deliver each papyrus to its owner. First, with a gesture full of respect, he handed the papyrus dedicated to Pharaoh Akhenaten. Then, with a melancholic smile, he gave his to Queen Nefertiti. Despite his almost transparent body, he leaned towards the six little princesses, personally handing each one the papyrus with her name. His hands, almost ethereal, barely brushed the small hands of the girls as he entrusted them with his story.

The last light of the afternoon entered through the arches, and with each papyrus delivered, Verne's form dissolved a little more. In a final instant, just as the last scroll, that of little Setepenre, was in her hands, Verne's figure became barely a trembling silhouette, an evanescent glow in the air. And then, he disappeared forever.

The grand hall fell into stunned silence, broken only by the soft murmur of the Nile outside. Verne's chair was empty, but in the hands of the Pharaoh, the Queen, and the princesses, rested the papyri. The legacy of the traveler from the future remained with them, an unusual tale that would cross the centuries, even though its author was no longer there.

END

Author: Jorge Ofitas.  ®. 

Author  Series Dreaming Verne: Jorge Ofitas.  ®. 

Europe. 2025.  ®.