[Write a poem or journal entry inspired by what you can’t see.]

It was late at night when Menes was awoken by steady knocking sounds from his door. The sound put him on full alert, as he knew of no one who would have any reason to bother him so late at night.

Nervous, Menes brandished the hoe he used in the fields before making the short trip from his bed to his door. He asked for the name of who came for him, but received no reply, only knocking.

Now sweating, Menes slapped a buzzing mosquito away before facing reality. If anyone desperately needed something that a simple, poor farmer like him could provide, they’d have responded when he asked who was there. If it were a guard or official from the city who wanted to see him, they wouldn’t have bothered knocking. And besides a harmless prank some kid could have been pulling, the only other option Menes could imagine was that something or someone was after his life.

Menes had to act, because then at least he might have the upper hand in any confrontation. Slowly breathing the dry air, Menes prepared himself for a moment…then yanked the door open.

And immediately jumped back in fear.

At his door sat a large, black jackal, scaring Menes to the point that he almost dropped his improvised weapon, tripping over himself to pick it up and assume what he thought was a battle stance. Yet, the canine in front of him didn’t move, merely looking at him without any signs of aggression.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

It was then that Menes noticed the tablet in the jackal’s mouth. Why would it be carrying one? If the jackal was tamed, who could have done so? Furthermore, why would that person send Menes a tablet?

Yet, before he could further examine the situation and form a plan of action, the jackal opened its mouth, dropped the clay tablet, and walked away, disappearing into the night.

Menes stood in place for a minute, questioning what he’d just witnessed. It was only when another mosquito attempted landing on him that he escaped his daze and picked the tablet up from the floor. After closing the door, he left the hoe to lean on his mudbrick wall before sitting on his bed with the tablet in hand.

It was heavier than he expected.

Records were kept on papyrus and clay tablets, like the one in his hands, but because Menes was only a simple farmer, there was no way he could have learned to read. As that was the case, the man only sighed in disappointment, moving to lay the tablet on the floor and go to bed.

Until suddenly, it was almost like a fire ignited in his mind, casting luminescent lights across all shadows, smothering them. When Menes looked down at the tablet again, he still couldn’t read the hieroglyphics, but their meaning still carried!

According to the knowledge flowing into his mind, Menes had been chosen to be a servant of Anubis, god of Death, for his talent with death magic. Also written were instructions on how to properly worship Anubis, as only that was how he could obtain any magical power and be of use to the god. And once he reached a certain threshold, another jackal would give him further orders.