Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith has set the challenge, to write something based on this picture in the genre of ‘Alternate History’
If you want to take part, click on the link below:
Ramses the 49th rose from his throne and everyone in the room sank to the floor, pressing their foreheads to the ground.
He strode to the open window, the sound of his bare feet slapping on the tiles echoed around the chamber.
The sun was setting behind his ancestor’s tombs, a crowning achievement of his ruling dynasty, also known as the Pyramids. The heat of the day was still strong enough to cause his forehead to bead with sweat. He did not wipe it away, it would have removed the careful makeup that took hours to apply in the mornings. The blue-black markings around his eyes were a traditional symbol, as was the binding around his head, which he’d had to endure from infancy. They were there to give the impression he was descended from the Light Ones.
Millenia ago the Light Ones had arrived on earth on ships that flew through the air. They were wise creatures and had taught the primitive earthlings many things. How to harness the tidal ebb and flow of the Nile to irrigate their crops. How to tame animals. How to read and write in order to learn from people who were not there to talk to.
His family held on to the traditions and they kept secrets too. The Light Ones had black markings around their eyes and pointed heads and that is why he was so marked, but he was a human, not one of those sacred creatures that had taught them so much, then abandoned them. His ancestors had taken charge and maintaining the fiction that they had the same powers as those great beings, they slowly took over the world. They had defeated the civilisation known as the Greeks, then a rather pugnacious group called the Romans. Gradually they had conquered more of the world until now just one enemy remained, the Atlanteans. They were a maritime race of people whose main islands were in the Atlantic Ocean but then had managed to conquer the vast lands beyond those waters. They were the last great foe to be vanquished before the whole world would lay at his feet.
Bit by bit, his Grandfathers naval forces had fought this enemy, then his father had continued this war and now many thousands of miles away, a final battle was taking place. By now, it could all be over.
As he gazed down across his city, he saw a space chariot fly in from the west and land at the port. He took a deep breath, knowing that finally, he would have news.
Turning swiftly, he returned to his throne and gestured to his Vizier to come to him to take his orders.
In what seemed like an age, but was actually only thirty minutes, the huge golden doors opened and two trumpets blasted. The sound was far from euphonious, it sounded more bovine, a loud bellowing noise. Then his Vizier came running up the long aisle between fluted columns where brightly dressed courtiers sat, row upon row. He was not alone, Warchief Amunaten was with him, carrying his eagle helmet under his arm.
As they reached the foot of the dais, they both knelt.
Ramses leaned forwards and waved impatiently for Amunaten to speak.
“Supreme leader, The Atlanteans have been defeated. They are suing for peace and pray for you to show mercy and spare their lives.”
Releasing a breath that he’d not realised he was holding, Ramses relaxed back into his golden throne. The world was his, the whole world. He knew that soon, the Light Ones would return and he would present them a united world and in return be made truly one of them. Suppressing the smile that threatened to mar the serene expression he was obliged to maintain, he addressed his waiting war chief.
“You know what to do, Amunaten. Exterminate them all.”
Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 06/March/2019
This story was also inspired by the following word prompts: