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| A cross-over young novel for all ages |
Chapter 1
“Ready to be scared stupid, Boyd?”
my grandfather said. Grumpy and I loved to play games in the Egyptian galleries
of the museum.
But games weren’t the real reason why I took him to the museum almost
every afternoon after school.
We were here to dig up his memories. You see, my grandfather’s memory
was crumbling like the ruins of ancient Egypt and we were here on an archaeological
dig to recover the lost treasures of his mind.
He had once been a famous Egyptologist but now he had forgotten more
about ancient Egypt than I would ever learn, although he still knew an amazing
amount of weird stuff.
Playing ‘Tomb Traps and Treasures’ was our version of hide-and-seek in
the Egyptian galleries. It could be scary and great fun, providing the museum
staff didn’t spot us.
I tiptoed up to a pair of seated stone pharaohs who guarded the entrance
to the main hall. They looked quite stony-faced about our game.
Regally composed in shiny black granite, their expression seemed to say:
‘tread carefully.’
I took the warning and slowed. Was I walking into a trap?
Normally the Egyptian galleries echoed like
a big cathedral at prayer time, but today things were quieter. Looking down the
hall, I could see just one clump of people near the back, inspecting a colossal
pharaoh’s head.
I held my breath, edged through the gap between the throned figures,
swung my head left and then right.
Empty spaces yawned at me. Relief.
I started to let out a sigh, but then from behind a red granite lion, a
third pharaoh shot out.
“Got you!”
The echoes of my grandfather’s laughter rattled among the relics.
I let out a sharp yell of surprise. He had smuggled in a striped towel
in his motorised wheelchair and wrapped it around his head to look like a
pharaoh’s nemes headcloth.
He’d
frightened me stupid once again.
Grumpy zipped away in his wheelchair. He shot down the length of the
hall, scattering visitors at the far end like a bowling ball striking skittles.
I hurried after him.
“Sorry,” I said to the alarmed clump of people, a tour group of senior
citizens. In a whisper, I said to him: “Grumpy, be careful.”
Among the many things he had forgotten were the rules of the road. Grumpy
was an expert at rolling over toes.
Excerpt from EGYPT TRAP - AMAZON KINDLE
