Saturday, May 30, 2020

“Life's 1st Great Mystery – Death... and the Afterlife". Fiction mystery thrillers probe



Ancient Egypt penetrated the most fascinating human question of all – is there life after death?
ROY LESTER POND - Mystery thrillers ON AMAZON KINDLE and Paperback.
Do we have a future?

Afterlife conspiracy


“1st Great Mystery – Death... and the Afterlife".

ROY LESTER POND - ON AMAZON KINDLE and Paperback.


  “1st Great Mystery – Death... and the Afterlife".  Fiction mystery thrillers probe

Ancient Egypt penetrated the most fascinating human question of all – is there life after death?


Do we have a future?
Afterlife conspiracy
The Egyptians were preoccupied with the afterlife, but they took it even more seriously than many imagined. Humans, they say, are the only creatures that must live life with the knowledge that one day they’re going to die and our culture is the world of distraction we create around ourselves to shield us from this knowledge. 
But the Egyptians’ culture did not serve as a mere distraction to the pitiless cruelty of death. Instead their culture came to grips with death in an attempt to overcome its tyranny. This doorway and statue, the glowing underworlds of the tombs, the Books of Coming Forth By Day, or the Book of the Dead as they called these religious texts - were the results of government-funded research into the ‘first mystery’- death and the afterlife. 
The early pyramids were like nationally financed space-shots designed to launch the god-king pharaoh into the hereafter. 
The Egyptians even had maps showing the routes to the underworld painted on the bases of coffins.

Thursday, May 21, 2020

THE IBIS APOCALYPSE 'Open this Book of Thoth and you will possess the powers...'



AMAZON Paperback and Kindle
WARNING: “Open this book and you will possess the powers of the earth, sky and the gods themselves...”

The Book of Thoth, Egypt’s god of magic, is the most dangerous source of esoteric texts ever written.

Anson Hunter, controversial alternative Egyptologist and theorist, is obsessed with locating it before the wrong people get hold of it.

The texts bring frightening power but also a terrible backlash. Twice in history the contents have come to light – the first time in the reign of Rameses the Great, linked with the Plagues of Egypt and the suffering of the Hebrews, and in 1939 when a German Egyptologist took rubbings of the stone texts to Hitler’s Germany before the horrors of World War II.

Israeli Intelligence and its allies in the USA become alarmed when the Destiny Stela threatens to break into history once again. As they are all too aware, the Stela of Destiny is the Holy Grail for organisations and conspirators with dangerous political and religious agendas, both in the USA and in Europe.

Anson embarks on an investigation, pursued by enemies and shadowed by striking Israeli Mossad agent Zara Margolin and suspicious Egyptian authorities, in a hunt that covers USA, UK and secret archaeological sites in Egypt.

‘The Ibis Apocalypse’ is a danger-fraught adventure that unfolds against the background of ancient Egypt’s enthralling legend and mythology.


Tuesday, May 19, 2020

There are 2 Egypts... one is the 'Egypt of the Mind'

“There are two Egypts. The real Egypt of ticket offices, flies, stray dogs, crowds, coaches and clamouring trinket-hawkers, and then the Egypt of the mind..." - The Smiting Texts

THE EGYPT OF THE MIND

New Release - AMAZON KINDLE
Come on a journey into the Egypt of the mind.

The Egypt of a mystery and adventure thriller writer, with examples from the author’s work - and acknowledgements to Sir Henry Rider Haggard and Mika Waltari.

Enthralling Egypt.

‘Thrall’ can mean the glow of enchantment, of being held spellbound. Or it can mean the binding of servitude.

In original Middle English usage, thrall meant bondage and slavery.

Like the servitude of those charming little Shabti figures, or soul statues, fashioned by the score and bound by magic to serve the dead in the afterlife, a favourite of visitors to the Egyptian galleries of the museum.

Captivation?

Or captivity?
https://amzn.to/2lZu6bD
click here

 

Monday, May 18, 2020

My childhood dreaming of ancient Egypt inspired a past life novel...

"Roy Dreams". The words of my first school teacher's report

Novel: "One Day I'll Tell You Something"

A child obsessed with the ancient past, a young mother who discovers adventure…
“I remember Egypt,” Cooper said gravely. “Long, long ago.”
Her little boy was gorgeous, she thought, but his imagined past life could be a bit hard to take. Especially at 8.30 in the morning, when she was busy having a this-life crisis, running late for work and her eight-year old was about to miss his school bus.
Then young single-mother Catherine meets a past life researcher and also a mysterious Egyptologist Simon Priestly and she and Cooper are off to Egypt on an extraordinary quest to follow a young boy’s dreams… or are they actual memories of the ancient past?
What will they find and what will Catherine find as she warms to the impressive British Egyptologist as they uncover a shattering secret from Egypt’s past?
Disturbing and intriguing adventure fiction with a twist of the unknown.

Available on Amazon (5*****stars)
And dreaming also inspired quite a few other novels:




Sunday, May 17, 2020

Entertaining B.C. Before Coronovirus (the past as we like to remember it!)

Tomb Chapel of Nebamun, British Museum


Kalila flashed her torch on the woman.

She had a long waterfall of dark hair and was dressed in sheer pleated linen that revealed the paleness of her breasts beneath.

It was a banquet scene. The beautiful young partygoer held a water lily in front of her nose.

“Not all their art is timeless,” he said. “This one has a hidden clock in it. Do you see it? You can tell from this clock that it’s a daytime party. Look at the flower she’s holding. It’s a blue water lily and the flower is open.”

Egyptian water lilies appeared in frescoes in tombs and on monuments all over Egypt, but they were more than decorations to an archaeologist’s eye. They were floral clocks. You could always tell the time of day when a scene took place.

He pointed to the water lily in the lady’s fingers, the petals clearly open. The flower appeared flattened in profile, as objects were always shown in carvings and frescoes, a triangle with delicate blue points spraying out in a starburst, like a living graphic of Egypt’s delta. The blue Egyptian water lily had the peculiar habit of opening up in the morning and closing in early afternoon. This scene of a lady at a banquet, inhaling the fragrance of a blue Egyptian water lily, was not only locked in time, it was also locked into a specific time - the daylight hours. “Since the petals are open, the banquet must have taken place at noon or early afternoon,” he said. “By contrast, the Egyptian white lily opens at sunset and closed at sunrise, so when you see open white lilies in a painted scene it tells you that the event is taking place at night, lit by the glow of oil lamps.”
excerpt The Smiting Texts (Amazon Paperback and Kindle)

Did a Victorian antiquarian dump a croc-headed mummy in London’s thousands of miles of sewers and storm drains?

The Egyptian Crocodile Curse, 3rd in the trilogy. Amazon Kindle and paperback

He wrote in his journal...

‘I came by the mummy in Crocodilopolis in the Fayoum region of Egypt.
I cannot decide whether it is an embodiment of an Egyptian deity or an Egyptian demon. In my view, to be a Christian, let alone a minister of the church, one has to believe in a spirit world, in a world of good and evil entities... This acquisition fell into the latter camp for within weeks of setting it up temporarily in my rectory study, great misfortune befell my family and even parishioners who called on me. It has a malefic presence that began to torment me in my dreams. I value antiquities too highly to destroy it and I would not have wished it upon a revered institution such as the BM, so I elected to have it shut away in a hidden catacomb, beneath the cemetery among the underworld of drains and tunnels below London, where I sensed it belonged..


The Egyptian Crocodile Curse
When a new blockbuster ancient Egyptian exhibition arrives, mysterious events and a string of killings soon follow.
The investigative team of Jennefer, a curator, and Jon a police antiquities detective, must track down the shocking truth in a hidden underworld beneath the city - and discover a shocking secret from ancient Egypt, linked to a modern day conspiracy that takes its impetus from the ancient past.
In the unnerving footsteps of THE EGYPTIAN MYTHOLOGY MURDERS and THE OBELISK PROPHECY.

 

Saturday, May 16, 2020

'Was it an Osiris-pattern copycat murder? Head, legs, hands...' (THE OBELISK PROPHECY)

London

 
The bleak atmosphere of the stainless steel zone wrapped itself around them like the cold stink of formalin.

“You recognize him?” the morgue technician said after sliding out the tray for the two visitors, a young man and woman, a policeman from a London antiquities unit, Jon Lawlor, and a young British Museum curator and Egyptologist, Jennefer Jollife.

She tried not to breathe in the chilling air. It was like looking at cuts in a butcher’s shop, the severed portions of the body arranged to the best advantage on a tray. Yet the expression on the dead man’s face made him appear to be resigned to his fate, almost as detached from the situation as the head was from its body.

She felt a choking grief. Martin had been a mentor, a kindly light in her sea of inexperience when she had begun as a junior curator in the multi-universe of civilizations that made up the British Museum.

“Which part of him?” Jon said. “The arms, hands, legs, feet, head…?”

Jennefer looked at Jon with her wide-spaced eyes that some took for innocence but they were the wideness and watchfulness of a falcon’s stare. He was showing his characteristic levity, she thought frowning. This was no time or place for it.

“That’s him all right,” she said. “Professor Bailey. I worked with him at the British Museum. This is too horrible. Poor Martin.”

“Some kind of elaborate suicide, no doubt,” Jon said, undeterred. She had long ago nicknamed him Metro Man, a good-looking London metrosexual and sharp dresser, with slightly thinning hair, who liked to belie the sharpness of his mind. “I see what’s happened here. This man threw himself on a stack of carefully arranged blades. Or maybe he did it piece by piece. Tricky lopping off pieces of yourself one at a time until you get to your head, but then you’ve got a bit of a problem with no arms.”

“This is hardly the time for levity, Jon.”

Jennefer regarded him with almost as much horror as she did the remains on the tray.

She had to remind herself once again. This was Jon’s way of working. He liked to voice the impossible first ‘to get it out of the way so that he could move on to the possible and probable,’ he’d say, but sometimes his outrageous theorizing made her stretch her mind and question her grasp on reality.

Was it possible? Could she entertain the idea for a second that this was a case of suicide?
The gruesome body parts said no.

Quite impossible.           

“This has to be murder. Worse, an execution.”
“You think?”

She shuddered. Catching a whiff of mortality, she moved a little closer to Jon. He had a relieving tang of an aftershave or a bracing liquid soap.

As a museum curator, she was used to setting out objects and ideas neatly and carefully and labelling them correctly. Clean swept and willowy, even her beauty was ordered, her long hair drawn back on one side of her head and allowed to tumble in curls on the other side of her face.

“There is of course a precedent for this,” she said. “The Egyptian devil-god Seth murdered his brother Osiris and cut the body into fourteen pieces. It's almost as if this is designed to echo an event in mythology.”

“A murder in fourteen parts,” Jon said. “Interesting, Jennefer. If the Professor didn’t do this to himself, then who did? A rival academic, jealous of his research?”

“Seriously,” she said.

“A scholarly terrorist who’s read up on mythology?” 

“Not even terrorists butcher people this way.”

The technician cleared his throat and glanced at the young lady.

“One body part was missing,” the technician said. “Thirteen pieces were found.”

“Being a female, she’s probably spotted that essential missing part already,” Jon said.

“That confirms it,” she said. “When Seth cut Osiris into fourteen pieces, he threw one piece into the River Nile.”

“Which piece?” He was making her say the word.

“The penis.”

He winced.

“Hate that word. So, a mythological copycat killing,” he said.

She shook her head.

“More complicated and sinister than that. Such an elaborate execution is sending a message.”

Detectives and archaeologists worked in kindred professions, Jennefer recalled. Both dug for answers, but their team of oddly matched investigators was like a pair of disputing scholars learning the Talmud by arguing eyeball to eyeball. He liked to stretch possibilities and speculate exploratively, even wildly, at times. She liked to pin things down to reality. That was how they rolled, she thought.

“A message for whom? And saying what?” he said.

She shrugged.

“We’d have to do some digging.”

“That’s what we both do, as a detective and an Egyptologist.”

“Who could have done this, Jon? Seriously.”

“Somebody seriously disturbed,” he said.

“And dangerous,” she said.

“With unearthly attention to detail. Either they’re a surgeon, or they've done this kind of dissection before...”
(Excerpt)





"The Obelisk Prophecy" - No2 in the trilogy (AMAZON PAPERBACK AND KINDLE)


Thursday, May 14, 2020

Thoth, Seashat... Egypt's Forbidden Words of Power


Thoth, The Magical Ibis, Master of Words of Power

Thoth, the magical ibis and Master of  Words of Power, is at the heart of several of my adventure thriller novels, including The Ibis Apocalypse and more recently, The Forbidden Glyphs.

The lethal librarian Seshat in The Forbidden Glyphs

Imagine a cache of glyphs of unthinkable power.

Renegade Egyptologist Anson Hunter does. In fact he has a controversial theory that somewhere in Egypt lies the Lost Library of Thoth, guarded by his consort the goddess Seshat.
In legend, this library contained all the forbidden knowledge of ancient Egypt, both human and divine, including secrets of lost technology that built the pyramids.

Anson’s theory throws him into conflict with international seekers who have dangerous agendas for the world.

To save a loved one, Anson Hunter must seek the forbidden glyphs in an ingenious lost sanctuary guarded by traps set by the calculating goddess Seshat.

Wednesday, May 13, 2020

“Fiction can’t be used to teach” vs “Is there any other way?”


You can’t give truth from the outside, transmitting it from one head into another. 
It can only be found/taken from within a living context.
For example, the parable stories.
They used fiction to teach, so that truth could be found and ‘owned’.

Egypt's dizzying abyss of time... and the dangerous Stone Book of Thoth




THE AUDIENCE in the Washington auditorium saw these words flashed up on a screen behind him.

THE DESTINY STELA

They also saw a stone relief of the Egyptian god Thoth. Part avian, part man, the shoulders bulked in stone, while above it reared the thin snake-like neck and head of an ibis with a crescent beak. Thoth held a reed pen in his fingers, reflecting his role as the god of writing, wisdom and magical words of power.

“How old is the Destiny Stela?” he began. “The Palermo Stone - a recorded Canon of Kings - and other testaments of the ancient Egyptians speak of divine beings and demigods who ruled Egypt for thousands of years before the first human kings, beginning with Menes, also known as Narmer.

Let’s begin by trying to grasp a sense of the dizzying abyss of time we must span in order to reach the age of Menes and beyond.

Try picturing a line-up of Egypt’s rulers stretching into the distance. Imagine we are moving past this assembly on a river of time, like a water ride in a theme park, journeying back to the first historical dynasties and earlier.

We’ll ignore more recent history -a string of one hundred and forty seven Ottoman rulers, fifty seven assorted Mamelukes, over one hundred Fatimid, Abbasid and non-Abbasid rulers, scores of Byzantine Period Christian rulers and a line of forty three Roman Emperors.

We’ll start with Cleopatra, for, although Greek, she actually went native, spoke the language and adopted the religion.

Ready? We’re off.

We build up momentum and Cleopatra glides by in her Love Boat, arm in arm with Marc Anthony, her sails making the wind drunk with their perfume, but wait, there’s a cavalcade of six earlier Cleopatras and a fleet of fourteen Ptolemies stretching into the distance before we pass the monolith of Alexander the Great and the Macedonian kings.

Now the Persian hordes engulf us in the Second Persian period before we reach the last Egyptian born pharaoh, the magician-king Nectanebo II, working his magic on model wax ships floating in a bowl of water.

We’ve still got around two thousand, two hundred and seventy years to go before we get back to the pyramid age.

We travel through ten more dynasties and over fifty kings, including a detour of a hundred years as we see a line of Nubian, or Kushite, pharaohs mount the Horus throne, before we tumble into the darkness and chaos of the Third Intermediate Period.

Then we enter the New Kingdom and a new golden age in a line of three dynasties and thirty-three kings.

We rush by eleven Rameses kings alone, including Rameses the Great and his colossal seated statues at the Temple of Abu Simbel.

We see the boy king Tutankhamun posing for his golden mask.

It’s still almost two thousand years before the pyramid age.

Now we pass the sun-drunk pharaoh Akhenaten and Queen Nefertiti in their brand new city of Akhetaten mushrooming magically in the desert wilderness of Amarna, then a parade of other pharaohs, including multiple Amenhoteps.

And then it’s on to the Thutmosids and Pharaoh Thutmosis the Third in his chariot and blue war crown, leading his armies out of Thebes to conquer the Levant.

Moving back in time before Thutmosis, we find the female pharaoh Hatshepsut applying her strap-on symbol of kingship, a false beard.

Dynasties seventeen, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen and a parade of over ninety kings passes by - compare this with the mere sixty six monarchs of Britain.

We find ourselves in darkness and turmoil as we hit the Second Intermediate Period and the Hyksos conquest of Egypt. Foreign rulers take over for two centuries.

We rise on to meet classical times, an austerely refined age called the Middle Kingdom. Eleven pharaohs slide past in all their gravitas, including Amenemhat III, builder of the Great Labyrinth.

Astoundingly, there’s still around eight hundred years to go before we get back to the Old Kingdom pyramid age.

Then a veritable chaos of kings tumble by, not quite ‘seventy kings in seventy days’ as in the first intermediate Period, but something very like it.

We plummet into an age of chaos called the First Intermediate Period and we hear screams. It’s a horror section of three hundred years, where emaciated figures of death and famine leap out to terrify us like ghoulish animatrons.

As we regain speed, we come upon a line of thirty-six more kings. Dynasties six, five, four... flash past like numbers in a rapidly descending lift.

We have finally arrived at the age of the pyramid builders and the Early Dynastic period.

Worker hordes pitch stone pyramids like immense limestone tents on the plateau of Saqqara, including the Great Pyramid of Khufu and the Step Pyramid of Zoser.

We’re over five thousand years from our present day.

But have we hit ground zero yet?

Not quite. Other shadowy kings, as many as thirteen, with names like ‘Crocodile’, ‘Catfish’ and ‘Scorpion’, are beginning to emerge from the darkness of prehistory. There seems to be an unknown number of basements beneath.

We have just reached the borders of myth and history.

Conventional Egyptology places this period before the invention of writing.

Yet we keep pushing back the date of Egypt’s invention of hieroglyphs with new discoveries. Writing goes back further than Egyptologists previously once believed. This is the age of the Destiny Stela…

He paused. “I hope you aren’t feeling giddy after that ride," he said to the audience. "What is the Destiny Stela? Before I unleash the spectre of an apocalypse, let’s warm up with a quiz. What do the following individuals have in common: the ancient Egyptian Prince Khaemwaset, Pharaoh Rameses the Great, Adolf Hitler - and a mysterious individual we'll call ‘X’?”

He clicked through a series of images on the screen.

The audience saw:

A red standing statue of the ancient Egyptian Prince Khaemwaset.

A fallen colossus of the prince’s father, the Pharaoh Rameses the Great.

An image of Adolf Hitler bristling with moustache and Nazi iconography.

Finally, a shadowy silhouette of a person that contained within it the letter ‘X’.

“Anyone? There’s no prize for guessing correctly, but there could be a nasty surprise for humankind if we get it wrong.”

At the next click, the images coalesced into a montage.

“The answer: all of these people, Prince Khaemwaset, Rameses the Great and Hitler had one thing in common, I believe. They all got their hands on an apocalyptic tome known as the Stela or Stone Book of Thoth, the most powerful composition ever written, apart from the Bible but a far more volatile book than the Bible, as I’ll come to later...”
Excerpt from the novel "The Ibis Apocalypse"
AMAZON Paperback and Kindle






Tuesday, May 12, 2020

'They were on the eastern side of the step pyramid, sprinting alongside the heb sed court. A dark irony', he thought.


Egyptian tour guides will tell you that it’s good luck to walk in a complete circle around the Step Pyramid of Saqqara.

It’s even luckier if you’re able to run, Anson Hunter, thought after two bullets in quick succession spat dust from the ground at his feet.

The independent Egyptologist felt his skin tingling in shock like the effects of a close lightning strike.

 “What was that?” the girl said.

“Gunshots.”

He swept the courtyard and sandy perimeter of the monument. The pagan mass in stone was already twisting in the early morning heat.

The place was empty of visitors today, except for the girl. It looked like an abandoned building site with scaffolding clinging in places to the pyramid’s sides, evidence of uncompleted restoration work on the crumbling outer blocks, but somebody unseen was out there and had fired at them.

A guard? Why? It made no sense. Besides there were no guards in evidence today.

Some extremist taking pot shots at visitors?

The shots had been a little too carefully placed perhaps.

The question in his mind: was it meant to send them running? Or was it an instruction to stop?

He grabbed the girl’s hand and broke into a zigzag run, tugging her after him.

They were on the eastern side of the step pyramid, sprinting alongside the heb sed court.

A dark irony, he thought.

The heb sed court was a ceremonial running course that a reigning pharaoh used to complete at a Jubilee held every thirty years in order to prove his athleticism and his continued fitness for office. Failure to complete the run successfully in an earlier epoch saw the old king murdered.

Now they were running a circuit of survival too, not around a course with pre-set stone markers, but around the world’s first stone pyramid, a protest against death and a monumental stake in the sand for the belief in an eternal afterlife.

He flicked a glance at the girl he’d only met minutes earlier.

Her dark hair was flying and the anger in her face said: ‘it’s happening again…’


Excerpt from THE GOD DIG (Amazon paperback and Kindle)