My Soul Forgot

By May Sinclair PhD

Poetry intends to stimulate a specific emotional response and is often better understood when spoken aloud to expand its meaning by hearing the cadence of the rhythmic sounds.  Whereas, prose can be read silently or out-loud because it is written in the ordinary language we all use everyday.  Still, the symbolism is found in both the poems and prose.

This companion book to My Soul Remembers is filled with ghost stories, psychic events, and political questionings that are intentionally written in pricklier prose and grittier poems.

• Language: English
• Publisher: May Sinclair PhD
• Release date: Mar 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781517373481

May Sinclair PhD

May Sinclair's doctorate is in the philosophy of Metaphysics. An award-winning and internationally acclaimed author of numerous non-fiction and fiction books, based on symbolism and ancient history, she is currently writing the third book in the metaphysical fantasy trilogy about reincration: Another turn of the Wheel.

Book preview

IT

With a slow motion I cautiously pulled the shower curtain back to peek around the tiny bathroom to look for what it was that made me so scared.

Nothing.

The adrenalin was causing havoc with my insides.  Grabbing a towel, clean and dirty clothes, I rushed into the bedroom across the hall.  The sense of being scrutinized stopped.  It can’t come in here—maybe.

Dressing quickly and taking everything off the dresser, I packed our travel bags, zipped them up and hollered, Adam, come get these cases, we’re leaving!

I could hear him yell back over the TV noise.  What?  It’s ten o’clock.

Pushing the luggage in front of me I peered out the door to see nothing.  But I felt it. Drops of sweat formed on my forehead that I swiped away with my palm.  I left the bags to dash along the hall and then leaped down the stairs two steps at a time.

Are you nuts?  Adam asked when I got to the bottom.

Go get the suitcases.  Be careful.  There’s something up there.

He was going to argue, but squinted at me instead.  What’s up there?

I don’t know.  I’ll tell you about it while we’re driving home.

He was still eyeing me as he headed up the stairs.  This had better not be a joke.

It isn’t.  I’ll wait right here until you come back.  Hurry.  We’re not staying here for another minute.

My eyes flashed from side to side.  It’s not in this part of the house.

Adam brought the bags down.  I turned off the TV, rummaged in my purse to find the car keys, and switched off the kitchen lights before locking the back door.

As soon as the trunk was shut, I jumped in the driver’s seat and when Adam slammed his door I circled the yard to get onto the dirt road making a dust cloud behind the car.  Glancing into the rearview mirror I was certain there was a light in an upstairs window.  I blinked.  It was gone.

Slow down, Adam complained, you’ve got nine miles on this road before you get to pavement.

At first I ignored him.  No way am I slowing down.  But then sanity took hold, so easing my foot off the gas pedal, I said, Right.  You’re right.  It’s dark and I need to be more careful.

Are you going to tell me what happened?

Feeling like insect legs were trailing up my arms, I shivered goose bumps that grew along the bugs’ path.

"I can never go into that house again.  I don’t know what it was, but it wanted to use me.  I mean it was leering at me.  I’ve never felt so vulnerable—naked—at a cellular level."

Glancing over, I could see Adam was frowning as he considered what I’d said.

Wiggling in my seat, I knew that energy package produced by my fright had to be expelled.  Listen Adam, once we’re on the freeway I’m going to pull over to scream my head off.  If I don’t, I’m going to vomit.

With another quick look, I noted he was staring straight ahead deep in thought.  He shrugged.  Then he turned and asked, " Did you see it?"

"No, thank God.  Bad enough I felt it."

What are you going to tell your mom and dad about us leaving like this?  We’re supposed to be watching the house while they’re gone for two more days.

Shivering again, I told him, My mother said she was afraid of that house.

When did she say that?

A couple of years ago she called me, really upset, and told me some tale about being suffocated in her bed.

Sounding concerned and intrigued, Adam whispered, No kidding?

She watches a lot of scary movies.  I told her she was having a nightmare and probably needed some more breathing space since my dad had just retired.

"Humph, that sounds like one of your psychological dream analysis approaches."

I reacted. Well, you know, that is what I teach.

From the corner of my eye I could see Adam patting his shirt’s front and then he moved forward to check his back and side jean’s pockets.  You’ve got to turn around.  My security pass must have fallen out when we were rushing to get away.

No...no.  You can get another one.

He touched my hand that clenched the steering wheel.  Stop acting crazy.  You know that badge is important.  I can’t just leave it.  Turn around.

The knot in my stomach tightened.  I slowed the car, pulled over to the edge of the road, put the gear into park, then shuddered.  Maybe you should get another job.

Adam laughed.

I mean it.  I can’t go back.  Besides, if we did we’d be like all those stupid people in every horror movie ever made.

Get a grip!  You can stay in the car while I go look for it.

No don’t.  It’s in the upstairs bathroom.

My security badge?

Yes, it, too.

THE PRICE

OF FREEDOM

FIVE VIRILE AND EXCEPTIONALLY handsome young men stood naked in a row nearly equidistant in the center of the room.

Terhatu, the High-priestess gazed at each one not daring to blink since it could suggest she’d made her choice.

Making a barely perceptible nod to the only male member of the council, Sepher took her cue and slid from his stool towards the man on the far right of the line to touch his shoulder.  Without further direction he moved three paces closer to the table shaped into a semi-circle behind which the High-priestess reigned over the ceremony.

Covered in aromatic oils, his body glistened in the light that shown down from the narrow windows high up along the ceiling, casting a shadow on the white washed walls.  First, he raised both arms.  Next, he made a slow complete turn showing his muscular physique.  Once he was again facing forward he bowed low, raised up to speak his name, thanked the High-priestess and the council, and then took the backward steps to stand in the row again.

Each of the men took their turn in a repetition of the first one’s actions.

Her thumb, index, and little finger were splayed to indicate the men accorded those designations were to be escorted from the room.  The two remaining were watched carefully to note any expression on their faces.  Whether trained or only warned, neither allowed the smallest hint they knew the first round of the selection process was done.

On each side of the table dull bronze braziers wafted out a sickly-sweet aroma.  Standing, Terhatu held her head high and steady to support the pointed headdress topped by a crown shaped like an upended crescent moon.  She clapped her hands together once. From the only door into the room one of the En priestesses carried a small ebony box deeply etched with cuneiform script along its edges in her outstretched hands.

Running her fingers along the container’s top, Terhatu then released the ornate clasp to retrieve the two cubes nestled inside.  Aged to a shade of dull yellow rather than off-white ivory, the cubes still stood out against the dark velvety-like substance lining the interior of the case.  Head bowed and eyes closed, Terhatu’s lips moved in her silent mouthing of a prayer