[NaNoWriMo]As yet untitled.

Okay, I've decided I'll go ahead and post my NaNoWriMo story as I go. Maybe that'll help keep me motivated. I may not be able to finish this, or I may finish it too late, but, hopefully it'll still be fun at least. ^_^ The subject is my passion, archaeology. If it goes as I'm planning, it'll eventually become a quool (hopefully) fiction. ^_^ Here's the first bit of this story. Current wordcount: 1167 ^_^

They had been digging for hours with no results. The sun was high in the sky, and it beat down on their backs and exposed necks. Tom sat up on his knees and brushed the sweat from his forehead. “Man, I really hope we find something soon.” He said under his breath. He hadn’t meant anything by it, but the director of the dig had heard him as she was walking by.
“You have to have patience,” she said severely. “You can’t expect to turn something up right away. If you give up then you’ll never make any great finds. Look at Howard Carter, if he had given up he would never have found Tutankhamen’s tomb if he had given up. It took him five years to make that find, and we’ve only been digging for a month now.”
Tom looked into Ms. Parker’s steely grey eyes and said, “Yes, Ma’am. I understand.” He bent back over and began again meticulously moving sand with his trowel. He had been so excited to volunteer for the his professor’s excavation that spring, but it had so far proved to be exceedingly dull. He sat absentmindedly scraping, scraping, scraping, paying so little attention that he almost didn’t notice when the tone of the scrape changed to the dull thunk of a hidden object. Almost.
Tom hunched eagerly over, carefully brushing away dirt. Only after he had half revealed the completely intact pot did he call his professor over. She squatted down beside him to observe his findings. She studied it for a moment, then smiled approvingly at him. “There, you see,” she said. “I told you all you needed was a little patience. This is an ancient Egyptian cosmetic pot you’ve found. The fact that it’s here and intact means we’re on the right track, and there really is a village here. I want you to run get your notebook, and record exactly where you found this before you finish uncovering it. Come on, you know what to do, get to work!”
That day yielded several small finds. Several potsherds, an old broken bracelet, and the remains of a tablet of hieroglyphics had been uncovered by various people. It was a very exciting day, especially since this was the first day anything at all had turned up since they began work on the site. They were all swept up in the excitement of it, eagerly brushing away the sand, hoping to be the one to uncover the latest find.
They only stopped when it was about half an hour before becoming to dark to see properly, and then only because Ms. Parker called a halt to the work. The few objects were then carefully packed up to be transferred to the storeroom, where tomorrow someone would stay behind to make meticulous notes, which the professor would later look over to check for accuracy.
Tom sighed contentedly as he laid down in his sleeping bag to go to sleep. To some, sleeping in a tent in the barren Egyptian desert may not have been the most wonderful prospect, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed it. For day to night, his mind was filled with almost nothing but archaeology. It was just as well that he didn’t mind too, for he certainly didn’t have the money to pay to stay in a hotel for the entire summer. Thinking excited thoughts about potsherds and beads, hieroglyphics and crumbling houses, Tom fell into a deep sleep.

The sun rose dazzlingly bright over the horizon, sending blinding rays shooting over the desert. It was a gorgeous sunrise, much clearer than those back home in Texas. The view was breath-taking, for Egypt was perhaps the most gorgeous in the peaceful hours of sunrise and sunset.
Tom however, was fast asleep and snoring, completely oblivious to the beauty surrounding him. His tent-mate Greg, a buddy of his from class, was awake however, having been aroused by a particularly loud snore. Greg was tempted to kick Tom, in revenge for waking him, but decided not to. Instead he got up, stretched, and quickly threw on his clothes. After dressing he walked out of the tent to enjoy the Egyptian morning for the short amount of time left to him before work started back up.
Greg, unlike Tom, had not been bursting with excitement at the thought of this trip. In fact, archaeology as a whole bored him quite a bit, and the only reason he was studying it was to make his parents happy. They were paying for his education, wanting him to follow in his father’s footsteps. They would gladly have paid for a hotel as well, but Greg had thought that sleeping in a tent would be more exciting. Now, halfway through the trip and with the most exciting thing being the discovery of some old potsherds, he was beginning to wish he had let them pay for the hotel anyways.
Greg sighed and sat down on the sand a little ways from the campsite. He stared into the sun, thinking. Tom had always said he would get Greg truly interested in archaeology, but if most of it was like this, than Greg seriously doubted it. He sometimes imagined his future, and a depressing imagining it was. Him, pouring over old texts or doing back-breaking labor beside his father, bored out of his wits and wishing he could have come from a family of computer programmers. Greg sat lost in thought until the sounds of activity in the stirring camp alerted him that it was time to return.

Greg was not the only person up early. Sylvia Parker was in her tent – for she, like most of her students, was spending the summer in a tent – pouring over the hieroglyphics on one of the potsherds found the previous morning. She hadn’t gotten very far in deciphering it, but it seemed to be a sort of shopping list or something of the like. Her eyes straining in the early morning light, the professor copied down the hieroglyphics as quickly as she could, trying to get in as much work she could in the limited time given her.
Sylvia really enjoyed her career, but one of her biggest regrets was the fact that summer was the only time she could actually excavate. Sure, the rest of the year she was still surround by archaeology, teaching, giving lectures, all that stuff. But she had always wished she could actually be in the field all year, rather than just a few months of it. That was why when she did go she tried to do things as efficiently as possible, with so little time, she couldn’t afford to waste it by making mistakes. She continued working on the hieroglyphics until the sounds of the camp alerted her that her students were waking up and it was time to resume work. She put the potsherd and her notepad away, and stood up and walked out of her tent.

"having been aroused by a particularly loud snore."

I know the point is to just write without looking back, but I have to say this line gave me a chuckle. I think the word you want is 'roused'.

Good characters. Can't wait to see where it goes.

Oh, I was hoping you would write some prose, for, having read a great deal of your poetry, I was eager to see more of your writing! This is very nice! The writing is clear, and exposition interesting. Cheers!

Originally Posted by pipking

"having been aroused by a particularly loud snore."

I know the point is to just write without looking back, but I have to say this line gave me a chuckle. I think the word you want is 'roused'.

Good characters. Can't wait to see where it goes.

Lol, oh my. Hehehe. Well, I was trying to do the whole, fast and furious don't look back, writing thing. ^_^ Lol. Thanks for the comments pipking and selah. ^_^ I won't post all of what I've got written, since I had to stop right in the middle of something, but I'll post almost all of it. ^_^

Within fifteen minutes all of the students were up and ready to work. Some, like Tom, were late risers and had barely had time to throw on a crumpled pair of clothes before coming out to work – not that it really mattered what their clothing looked like. By the end of the day they would all be equally sweaty and disheveled, so all that really mattered was that they were there and ready to work.
The camp was full of excitement. The few meager finds of the previous day were clues to the village they had been hoping to find, the first so far uncovered. They were all sure that today would bring forth many new finds as well.
They were disappointed however. The only thing unearthed that day was an old soda can – the tale-tell sign of tourists. The very air seemed to loom with disappointment in the camp that night. Disappointed, but not discouraged, the group of students recovered for a night in their tents, sure that tomorrow would yield more finds.
But they didn’t make any new finds that day either, nor the next day. In fact, almost half a week passed before the next discovery was made, this time by Greg. He was scraping away at the sand, imagining the new Zelda game and wishing he were able to go play it, when he heard a metallic scrape. Startled, Greg looked down to discover a bit of stone protruding out of the earth. He called over Ms. Parker, excitement creeping slightly into his voice in spite of himself.
Ms. Parker came and looked, brushing away sand carefully with her brush to reveal the crumbling top of a mud brick wall. Most of the small group of students was called over to help unearth the wall, with one working on the rubbish heap, checking for anything missed as the sand was brought away, and one recording the placement of the wall in a journal.
The wall turned out to be the remains of a hut, and when they spread out to remove the layer of sand around it, they soon unearthed the top to another hut to the left. It seemed they had finally found their village. Every day after that was spent slowly working outward, trying to remove the sand from the village one layer at a time. Each day small artifacts were found, potsherds, stone tools, and even bits of simple jewelry.
Tom had never been so excited in his life. This wasn’t a grand tomb they were uncovering, and would be unlikely to get much attention, but that wasn’t what they had come looking for. They had come to find a village, and with it, further insight into the lives of the ancient Egyptians. It seemed that they had at last found just that.

About two weeks had passed since Tom had first discovered the pot above the village. Since then, the top of the entire village had been uncovered, with each new building added to the drawn layout as it was found. It was a small, simple looking village. The streets were about wide enough for two people two walk comfortable past each other, and the huts were small, consisting of two or three rooms each.
It would have been looked on with boredom by pretty much anyone but an archaeology and Egyptology enthusiast. It had no aesthetic appeal, and there was no gold or lapis lazuli to be found. No amazing masterpieces, no tombs, no mummies. But to one who could view it and see the educational value of such a place, it was a veritable gold mine. What they learned here wouldn’t be the stuffy and formal recitations and rituals for a pharaoh, they would learn how normal Egyptians lived and interacted. The thought was thrilling to the small group.
Even Greg, firmly uninterested in things of an archaeological or historical nature, couldn’t help but be a little excited about their find. Not enough to make him feel much better about his unwanted future career, but enough to make him not so miserable for the moment at least. He pitched in cheerily, helping wherever he could and trying to always hold up his part. He still would trade this experience in for a day at a computer programmer’s class any day, but he made the best of it.
Night had fallen now, and although almost everyone else was asleep and they knew they should be too, Greg and Tom were up talking in their tent. “…looked really interesting. I can’t wait to read its translation later.” Tom was saying excitedly.
Greg replied, “So long as it’s not another grocery list I’ll be happy. We’ve found enough of those to know what to buy these people for a month.”
“So what’s wrong with that?” Tom argued lightly with his friend. “Those things tell us about their diets. We’re learning a lot from them.”
“Yeah,” Greg jokingly replied. “Like for instance that one family was really low on eggs and had to go buy some at the market so she could finish making her omelet.”
The two friends chatted amiably, mostly talking about the site and archaeology in general, when they heard a mournful howl from the direction of the site. Greg and Tom looked at each other in surprise, then stared at the tent flap. The coyotes of the desert had stayed away from the camp, and it was surprising that one should venture into it. They disregarded it after a moment though. The other students knew better than to go out and mess with it, it should just poke around and leave.
Having pushed the coyote to the back of their minds, they were again chatting when a scream broke the silence. They jumped in surprise, then, looking at each other in horror, they dashed out of the tent.

Got three and a half pages now! Not enough, but a pretty good start! ^_^

And a better start than I have right now. It's reasonably good so far, too.

Would you mind breaking the paragraphs up a little bit? It's not really a problem, but it's easier on the eyes when there's a space between them. Don't worry if you're ever pressed for time, though - it isn't important.

Well, good luck on reaching the 50k by the end of the month.

Thanks Tiroth. I'm thinking I'm going to have to change the direction in which I was having the story go to make it work though...a lot. *sigh* Well, I'll post the extra page or so I've written that I'm happy with, and...if I decide to make some drastic changes to what I've already written, I'll just repost the edited version. Grrrrr...this is harder than I thought, and I was expecting it to be really hard! Lol. G'luck on the 50k to you to.

Sylvia was up late that night, studying more hieroglyphics. In fact, she happened to be translating just the sample Tom and Greg had been talking about on the other side of camp. It was certainly not a list of things for the market. Sylvia’s brow furrowed as she struggled in the wan lamplight to make out the symbols on the broken tablet. The text upon it was not unusual for an ancient Egyptian tablet, but it was unusual for the location. It was a copy of one of the prescribed rituals for after the burial of the king. She scribbled words hastily, wondering as she did so why such a copy would’ve been in the village.

Ms. Parker was so immersed in hieroglyphics that she completely ignored the coyote. She never even heard the mournful howl, nor the rustle as the coyote entered her tent. She was blissfully unaware of the predator’s presence until she heard a low, bristling growl from behind her. Her pencil clattered to her small desk, and she slowly turned to see the terrifying sight.

Her scream echoed across the desert night, wakening her sleeping students, and bringing Tom and Greg running. They reached their teacher’s tent to find Ms. Parker against the tent wall, unable to move away from the coyote. Greg quickly snatched a rock from the ground and hurled it at the coyote’s side, then took off running, leading it away.

After making sure that his professor was unharmed, Tom ran off after Greg and the predator, ready to help. Ms. Parker hesitated, but, realizing that the pupil’s safety was largely her responsibility, pursued them as well.


Greg was beginning to doubt the wisdom of making the coyote chase him. He dashed between the ruins of the village, trying to lose the expert hunter. Behind him, he could hear the thud of booted feet that told him his friend was following. Greg dashed behind a cluster of ruins and doubled back. He stopped, breathing heavily, and watched for Tom.

As soon as Tom, followed by Ms. Parker, rounded the corner, Greg beckoned them over to him. “I think…” he panted. “I might’ve…lost it.”

Tom sighed. “I knew I should’ve brought a gun with me,” he said.

Ms. Parker, an adamant animal enthusiast, frowned at her student but didn’t say anything.

“Well, we’d better be heading back for camp,” Tom said, unaware of his teacher’s glare.

“Yeah, just gimme a minute,” Greg replied. “I gotta catch my breath.” They waited for a few minutes, then headed back for the cluster of tents. The tents however, were nowhere to be found. “What the…” Greg said. “I’m sure this is the way we came.”

“We must’ve gotten turned around while running,” Ms. Parker said. “We’ll look for a landmark in the ruins, and that’ll tell us which way to go.”

“Yeah, okay,” Greg replied. “Strange though, I was sure we’d come from this direction.” He shook his head and turned back to the site. “So what landmark will we look for?” he asked.

“There’s a largish house on the far left corner from the camp, it has some distinctive hieroglyphics on it. That’s what we should look for.” Tom said.

They agreed on this and headed towards their right. They soon found the corner house, and stepped into the street to examine it’s crumbling walls. They crossed the threshold of the village, and as they did so Ms. Parker softly uttered, “What in Hell?” The village had changed as they stepped into it. Ruins suddenly became houses, complete and looking, if not new, not terribly old at least. There had been no warning for them of what would happen, except perhaps a slight shimmer that might have been moonlight reflecting off a waft of hot air.
The threesome looked around in amazement. There was only one explanation for what they were seeing, and all knew it, but none were willing to accept it. “Please tell me that the jackal really did catch up with me, and I’m just suffering fever delusions or something,” Greg said.
“I don’t think so, sorry,” Tom said, not taking his eyes off the newly built structures.
Sylvia stood there, staring and not saying a word. The view before them was not dissimilar to that of many modern poor Egyptian villages, but she knew it was not, and the thought of where they were fascinated her.
“What do you think Ms. Parker?” Tom asked, jerking her out of her reverie.
“Huh?” the professor replied. “I’m sorry Tom, can you repeat that please?”
“I said, since we came here after we stepped over the village boundaries, maybe if we cross back over, we’ll be back in our time,” he repeated.
“Well, It probably won’t work, but I suppose it’s worth a try,” Ms. Parker said. “After all, I can’t see how it would make things any worse.”
Greg, who had often heard that phrase uttered, and then seen exactly how much worse it could get, groaned inwardly, but, to his relief, nothing bad happened when they stepped back over the border of the village. Unfortunately, nothing good happened either. The village was still standing intact before them, gleaming dully in the moonlight.
All three sighed. “Well, it seems we’re stuck here for a little while,” Sylvia said after a moment.
“On the bright side, think of how much we can learn!” Tom said enthusiastically. “The most we were hoping for was some texts of some sort, now we can actually see what it’s like here!”
“And do what with that knowledge?” Greg asked. “For all we know, we’re stuck here for the rest of our lives, and we don’t even know why! And, to top that off, we don’t have any food, or any really useful supplies with us. What good is knowing about all this if we can’t survive to share it? Besides, even if we did manage to make it back, who exactly do you think we should tell? Who would believe something like this? I know I wouldn’t have.”
“Okay, you may have a point there,” Tom conceded. “But still, think of the adventure of something like this!”
“Adventure! We’ve gone back in time, with no clue how, and instead of worrying about how we’ll get back, you’re thinking of the adventure!” Greg yelled.
“That’s enough,” Ms. Parker said. “We certainly won’t get anywhere by fighting. Besides, we’re right beside a village, we don’t want to scare the locals into attacking us. I’m sure we’ll already make enough of a scene as it is.”
Just as she said this, they saw a figure approaching from outside the village. They stopped talking and stared.

There ya go Tiroth, space paragraphs. ^_^ I have about 3 more paragraphs or so that I've written, but I may end up deleting them all together. *sigh*

EDIT: Added more to the story, and the coyote's been changed to jackal, I'm just to lazy to go back and change it all the times I've written it in this thread, lol. ^_^

Well, Iv'e decided to just keep going with the story, glaring inaccuracies displayed proudly. ^_^ What's really bad is when I know I'm getting something horribly, horribly wrong, but don't know enough to put it right. Lol. ^_^ Oh, and I may go back and add some stuff into this, as they just pretty much right away accepted what's happened to them, no wondering aloud or anything. Lol. Whatever. Here's what I've got so far.

Ahmed stood in the moonlight, stopping at the edge of his village. He was a merchant, and had been out trading at a nearby village. He had been delayed by a late customer at the market, and so was unable to make it home before dark. The merchant looked around, and then headed for his humble home on the edge of the village.
Just a few feet from his home, Ahmed stopped suddenly. He looked at the three strangers for a minute, speechless. He had never seen anyone dressed in such strange garb, and so pale!
Tom, Greg, and Sylvia stared back at him. He looked as strange to them in his ancient Egyptian kilt as they did to him in shorts, t-shirts, and boots. Sylvia quickly said in Arabic, “Sir! Can you help us please? We are travelers that have lost our way.” The professor forgot of course the opinion held by Egyptians of women, and followed her natural role as a leader.
Ahmed shook his head in wonder, then said in what was still recognizably Arabic (though very different from the modern version they had learned), “Yes, I can help you. What is it you seek?”
Tom said, “Where exactly are we?”
Ahmed looked at him and said, “You are in Aryyat, my humble village. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Well,” Ms. Parker said. “Like we said, we’re not really sure of where we are exactly. Is there somewhere we could stay for the night?”
Ahmed studied them for a moment, thinking. If they were travelers, they would probably have lots of valuable and exotic goods he could trade for, providing quite a large boost for his business, without him even having to leave home. After a minute he replied, “My humble home is of course open to travelers such as yourselves. When you’re ready to leave I’ll even be happy to point you on your way.”
“That would be wonderful! Thank you for your kindness.” Sylvia said.
Greg was wondering about the wisdom of staying with the stranger, and was about to say so, when he stopped to think. Their choices were really very limited. It was either this or spend the night outside and hope no coyotes or worse came. He decided that staying in the house was probably the better idea, and so didn’t say anything.
They were right by Ahmed’s house – it was the one with the hieroglyphics they had been looking for. They walked to the entrance and entered the small hut. Ahmed’s worldly possessions were few, but probably better than most of the village. He had a straw mat on which he slept, and some carved stools that he had likely gotten on one of his trading expeditions. He even had a cushioned chair with Mesopotamian fabric, probably his most prized possession. The second room of the house was obviously a kitchen. They weren’t led into it, but could see various simple cooking tools of them time through the open doorway.
Ahmed motioned for them to sit, taking a seat himself on the Mesopotamian chair. After they had made themselves comfortable – or as comfortable as was possible – he said, “My name is Ahmed. What are your names and from where have you come? I have traveled to many places, but never have I seen people such as you.”
The three thought a moment, then Greg said, “Our names are Greg, Tom, and Sylvia. We’re from very far away. We had to pass an ocean to get here.”
“Really?” Ahmed asked, intrigued. “What happened to your boat? You could have traveled up the river much quicker than coming by land.”
“Erm…We lost it on some bad rocks. Damaged the bottom pretty bad.”
“A pity,” Ahmed replied. “But you gathered your possessions off the boat surely?”
“What we could,” Greg replied. “But we were sailing when we went over the rocks you see, so a good portion of our things were lost as well.”
“Ah…you have my sympathies. Did you lose much?”
Greg was really getting into the story now, and couldn’t help go a little over the top. “Oh, it wasn’t good. We lost lots of fine fabrics and spices. We were in the middle of a trading expedition you see. We were going to head home soon, so we lost almost all of our goods except what we could grab.”
Ahmed wasn’t liking hearing this. He had invited these strangers to stay because he thought he could obtain from them some valuable trading merchandise. He was seeing his imagined fortune go down as swiftly as his guest’s ship. “But surely you saved some of your merchandise?” he asked hopefully.
Sylvia had been watching their host, and realized that his hospitality likely depended on what they could trade him. Before Greg could offer a heart wrenching reply, she said, “Very little, but we did save some yes.”
“I am glad to hear it. Perhaps tomorrow, after you have rested, we can trade.” Ahmed replied, his hopes rising again.
“We could look at what you have,” Sylvia replied. “I’m sure we could work out some kind of trade.”
Ahmed beamed, and then said, “The hour has grown late. You should rest now, and tomorrow we can do business under the light of the sun.”
Sylvia nodded, and they were led into the little room that served as a kitchen. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you much better than this,” Ahmed said. “I don’t usually have visitors.”
“This will do just fine,” Sylvia said. “It’s much better than sleeping out in the sand.” As they laid down to sleep, Ahmed going back to the first room of the house, Sylvia racked her brain, thinking of what they could show their host to trade tomorrow.

Despite their late night, the three travelers were up early the next morning, woken by the rising sun coming through the doorway. Ahmed, who was even more in the sun, was already up in the next room. They entered and Ahmed said, “Are you hungry? I don’t have much, but there’s some fresh bread I got from the baker yesterday.”
“Yes we would like some please,” Sylvia said.
Ahmed walked into the kitchen and sliced off some hunks of bread for them. They ate quickly and with little conversation. When they were finished Ahmed said, “Perhaps you would like to view wares now. I have many things I’m sure would interest you.”
Sylvia nodded and said, “What are some of the things you have?”
“Allow me to show you.” Ahmed replied. He walked over to a small, plain wooden chest in the corner that they hadn’t noticed in the dark of the previous night. He opened the lid, and extracted some fine dark fabric. The merchant brought it to the group, holding it out for them to examine. It made of cotton, and had been expertly died purple and magenta. “I received this from a Mesopotamian trader, who got it from a woman in his village. It is beautiful, no?”
“Lovely,” Sylvia agreed. “But what else do you have?”
“Ah, picky are we?” Ahmed said. He walked back to the chest and took out a small clay pot. It didn’t look very special, until he held it to them and they saw that it was covered in intricate carved designs. “This is one of kind. The man who carved them has since passed away. Nowhere will you find pottery such as this.”
“Very nice,” Sylvia said. “This might do, but I’d like to look a little longer.”
Ahmed smiled. “I think I have just the thing for you.” He walked a third and final time to the chest, and this time did not show them what he removed. He squatted in front of them, cradling something in his hands. “If you were to wear this, you would be the envy of every woman, the object of every man’s desire.” He opened his hands to reveal a beautiful gold and turquoise necklace. It was made of medium-sized gold beads inlaid with turquoise, and then had a wedjat amulet of turquoise and gold with black stones in it.
Sylvia breathed in sharply, staring at the beautiful necklace. Ahmed smiled. “I knew you’d like it. In light of your recent misfortune, I will lower the price of course, but you must realize that this is no simple trinket.”
This was, the professor knew, Ahmed’s way of saying that it was going to cost them a pretty bundle if they wanted that necklace. Sylvia smiled. She reached into her pocket and drew out a translucent plastic ring and matching earrings. “These are made of a material unlike that of which you have ever seen,” she said. “They are made only in my home country, for nowhere else has this material been found. They are beautiful as gold, and light as a feather at the same time.” She held them to Ahmed, who took them eagerly.
“Amazing,” he said. “I indeed have never seen it’s like. But,” he hesitated. “That necklace was very difficult to obtain. I’m not sure if this will prove enough for me to part with it.”
“I could trade something else, but you will not find anything more rare or valuable than what you hold now. Never again will someone offer you the chance for something like this. But…” she paused. “If you don’t want them, I suppose I’ll just keep them until I meet someone who does.”
Ahmed thought hard. If he continued to push, he might be able to get some more from her, but he might also inadvertently make her decide to not trade it. He decided not to risk it. “Alright,” he said. “The ring and earrings for the necklace.” He solemnly handed the wedjat necklace over to her, and placed the plastic jewelry back in his chest.
At first Sylvia was feeling a little guilty trading plastic for gold and turquoise, but, she reasoned, plastic had not yet been invented, so it really was the rarer of the two items.

Not that exciting. Like I said, I think later I'll go back and add some stuff in. You'd think going back in time a few thousand years would be more interesting wouldn't you? Lol. ^_^

I must admit, I've never heard of coyotes in Egypt before. ^_^

This is an interesting turn of events here. I do hope you're going to explain why they've gone back in time sooner or later, though, because that little question is really bugging me right now.

So what's going to happen when people start hearing about the pale strangers from over the sea? How will the three of them react when what's happened sinks in?

I know, I know - question, question, question. I'm always like this.

As for stealing your character's name, it just seemed to fit at the time. I can assure you I've been more original with the dragon, though.

Originally Posted by Tiroth

I must admit, I've never heard of coyotes in Egypt before. ^_^

Curses, was it jackle I was looking for? Bleh, I must've said coyote cause that's what we have here in Texas. Lol.

Originally Posted by Tiroth

This is an interesting turn of events here. I do hope you're going to explain why they've gone back in time sooner or later, though, because that little question is really bugging me right now.

So what's going to happen when people start hearing about the pale strangers from over the sea? How will the three of them react when what's happened sinks in?

Erm...haven't quite figured it out yet, lol. I'm just making it up as I go along. ^_^ Although, I did get a little bit of an idea for an edit I can make so that it doesn't seem like they frequently travel the paths of time on their lunch breaks. ^_^

Lol, and I was just kidding about the Sylvia thing btw. I probably read the name Sylvia somewhere and decided to use it from that anyways. ^_^

Originally Posted by southern belle

Curses, was it jackle I was looking for? Bleh, I must've said coyote cause that's what we have here in Texas. Lol.

It could've been. I think you're more likely to find jackals in Egypt than coyotes, anyway. ^_^

Originally Posted by southern belle

Erm...haven't quite figured it out yet, lol. I'm just making it up as I go along.

Don't we all?

Well, except for odd black sheep like me that's had the idea bouncing around for months...

Are we going to get an update anytime soon, or have we given up? Guess I can't really blame you if you have, but...

Originally Posted by Tiroth

Are we going to get an update anytime soon, or have we given up? Guess I can't really blame you if you have, but...

Don't count me out yet! While I'm drastically behind, with only 8 pages of writing, when I should have 36 if I was keeping up with the 4 pages a day, I'm still working on it. I've pretty much abadoned hope of getting it done it time, so now I'm just trying to get it done. Lol. ^_^ Anyways, I went back and added in a page just before they meet Ahmed, showing them dealing with going back in time. I had to get rid of my lovely cliffhanger, but, the story's better for it. ^_^ Here's the page I added in, along with the paragraph directly before it and after it so you know where it should be in the story. After this post I'll also edit it into my previous post so other people can read it whole. ^_^

“There’s a largish house on the far left corner from the camp, it has some distinctive hieroglyphics on it. That’s what we should look for.” Tom said.
They agreed on this and headed towards their right. They soon found the corner house, and stepped into the street to examine it’s crumbling walls. They crossed the threshold of the village, and as they did so Ms. Parker softly uttered, “What in Hell?” The village had changed as they stepped into it. Ruins suddenly became houses, complete and looking, if not new, not terribly old at least. There had been no warning for them of what would happen, except perhaps a slight shimmer that might have been moonlight reflecting off a waft of hot air.
The threesome looked around in amazement. There was only one explanation for what they were seeing, and all knew it, but none were willing to accept it. “Please tell me that the jackal really did catch up with me, and I’m just suffering fever delusions or something,” Greg said.
“I don’t think so, sorry,” Tom said, not taking his eyes off the newly built structures.
Sylvia stood there, staring and not saying a word. The view before them was not dissimilar to that of many modern poor Egyptian villages, but she knew it was not, and the thought of where they were fascinated her.
“What do you think Ms. Parker?” Tom asked, jerking her out of her reverie.
“Huh?” the professor replied. “I’m sorry Tom, can you repeat that please?”
“I said, since we came here after we stepped over the village boundaries, maybe if we cross back over, we’ll be back in our time,” he repeated.
“Well, It probably won’t work, but I suppose it’s worth a try,” Ms. Parker said. “After all, I can’t see how it would make things any worse.”
Greg, who had often heard that phrase uttered, and then seen exactly how much worse it could get, groaned inwardly, but, to his relief, nothing bad happened when they stepped back over the border of the village. Unfortunately, nothing good happened either. The village was still standing intact before them, gleaming dully in the moonlight.
All three sighed. “Well, it seems we’re stuck here for a little while,” Sylvia said after a moment.
“On the bright side, think of how much we can learn!” Tom said enthusiastically. “The most we were hoping for was some texts of some sort, now we can actually see what it’s like here!”
“And do what with that knowledge?” Greg asked. “For all we know, we’re stuck here for the rest of our lives, and we don’t even know why! And, to top that off, we don’t have any food, or any really useful supplies with us. What good is knowing about all this if we can’t survive to share it? Besides, even if we did manage to make it back, who exactly do you think we should tell? Who would believe something like this? I know I wouldn’t have.”
“Okay, you may have a point there,” Tom conceded. “But still, think of the adventure of something like this!”
“Adventure! We’ve gone back in time, with no clue how, and instead of worrying about how we’ll get back, you’re thinking of the adventure!” Greg yelled.
“That’s enough,” Ms. Parker said. “We certainly won’t get anywhere by fighting. Besides, we’re right beside a village, we don’t want to scare the locals into attacking us. I’m sure we’ll already make enough of a scene as it is.”
Just as she said this, they saw a figure approaching from outside the village. They stopped talking and stared.

Ahmed stood in the moonlight, stopping at the edge of his village. He was a merchant, and had been out trading at a nearby village. He had been delayed by a late customer at the market, and so was unable to make it home before dark. The merchant looked around, and then headed for his humble home on the edge of the village.

There, at least now it seems more interesting than a trip to the market, lol. ^_^ Oh, and my word count is now 669. *sigh* Lol.