Drunk

"What am I to do, yes, give me another beer, will you, "waking up. "This nightmare, soon to be ended, for sure."

"There you are, son" she says. Grandma found me. Strange, addressing me as son. I swing my beer at her, missing purposely, yet acknowledging my rage, starting to sob, breaking down, taking the end in the now. Pitying, overwhelmed and numbed.

Whagh, surrendering to the gauging of vomit, splashing, smearing the hard wood table, red cushion coated chairs and all compassionate grandma. "Burb," I feel better already. "Sorry, mom." Accepting, yet, raving at my indisputable grim destiny to come. I die, so what!

Cleo

"What happened to you?" Cleo asked, walking in with a hot cup of tea in her hands. "You look upset."

"Grandpa just told me he wants to kill me in three months, and my grandma is my mother," I uttered.

"At last, the games have begun," she said calmly. "I'm Cleopatra from the second house. My family ordered me marrying you, helping you, killing your grandfather. He is more evil then you think. Do you understand what I'm saying here? "

I dug my face for the second time in the pillow, stripped from the last shred of remaining dignity. "Yes, you don't love me!"

Wake Up

"So, you're going to kill ME? Just try, I dare you!" grandpa said.

"Heu," all I could utter, pressing my head deeper into the nicely fluffed pillow, hoping he would disappear, hoping to startle from the nightmare, eyes wide open. 

But, he sitting there, even more calm than I remembered, even more iconic than I wished, deriding the mere fact I am.

"Yes, I killed you're father and yes, I'll kill you!" he said. "Your dad didn't make it through the first gate, you knew that? The soft fuck, still swimming in the lake of fire, he sure is! Then I took his wife as mine, claiming ones again my regal inheritance, as I've done for the last 400 years, defeating ones again for the sixteenth time you-scum-semen-waste." 

Grandpa left the bedroom, mockery written on his hinterland, leaving me behind, devastated. 

Key Holder

"Just sit down," Theresa said, "I'll explain what's going on as you have probably only three months left to live."

That caught my attention, death is something I always wanted to be, if just to annoy the old man. Now, I'm not so sure anymore. Life suddenly became dear to me, more precious than pleasing the old fool.

"You are the offspring of Cleopatra the seventh, you know her don't you?" I nodded as Theresa continued her story.

"She asked Ra to save her son, as she was to be killed. A sacrifice, you could call it, saving her bloodline, but with a twist. There can only be two descendants alive. You having a son means there will be three, doesn't it?" Not pausing, nor looking up to see my dumb face expression. 

"You got three months to claim your heritage, because on the last day of the full moon of the third month, you will go through the twelve gates of the underworld. You understand me? You're so-called grandfather will accompany you, and only one will come back. Got a question for me, do you? I didn't think so."

"In all of these books you'll find the key to stay alive, and kill the "old bastard" as you call him. A wish to come true! As the key holder, I will assist you on these last ventures. For so I have done with your late father."

Vault

Theresa dragged her aged bones forth, out of the elevator, down the marble stairs. "Put you index-finger here," she said.

"Whoa, grandpa really got me now." Obeying her simple command slavishly, ancient marvel admiring, unaware the poignant to precipitate violently... "AUW"

"Must have past out, try to remember," I thought. Clearing my eyes vision with a hand rub, a salty metallic taste hit my tongue. Blood. Splashed blood, all over the floor. 

"Oh my god," I gasped   

"Pussy;" she deliberately articulated slowly," pick up the right-index phalange lying near your left foot. Put it back on your hand. NOW!"

I did just that, entranced by the mere accentuation of her voice. And it sticked, able to move my hand healed freely, as before.

"Welcome, young master, welcome to the twelfth house." Theresa said. "Let's have a look at your legacy, shall we?" pointing at the open vault, revealing the real library.

“In dreams last night
the heavens and the earth poured

out great groans while I alone
stood facing devastation. 
Some fierce and threatening creature 
flew down at me
and pushed me with its talons toward
the horror-filled house of death
wherein lrkalla, queen of shades,
stands in command.

There is darkness 
which lets no person 
again see light of day.

There is a road leading away from
bright and lively life.
There dwell those who eat dry dust
and have no cooling water 
to quench their awful thirst.
As I stood there I saw all those who’ve died
and even kings among those darkened souls
have none of their remote and former glory.

All earthly greatness was forfeit 
and I entered then 
into the house of death.
Others who have been there long
did rise to welcome me.”


"I love to recite the last praying words of the dying Enkidu," she said, smiling as I've never seen her smile before. As it was she who insisted on the building of this replica-gate four-hundred years ago.

"Yes, you heard right, 400 years ago." 

Library

"Why did grandma want me to come to the library of Mortsel?" I wondered. Obeying her simple demand, she whispered, prompted nervously. 

"Yes," the beehive entrance of the rebuild outrages small town edifice was a marvel. Granddad, clearly inspired by a sanitarian neatness, I thought mockingly. 

Yet, overwhelmed by it's simple modern urban softness illuminated interior, openness created by the large ceiling ongoing window sections, expressing  vision and wisdom for those who read. "A basic enough concept," sneeringly gaping around me.

"Oh, there you are," Theresa whispered, "grandma told you'd be here speedily; curiosity hasn't killed the cat, yet!" She chuckled, slowly uprising from the latest library acquisition, putting the book aside, gazing to the back-lounge wall, not even rendering me a glance. 

"Still hobbling, are we?"I thought silently. Even at the age of four I identified her, the most wrinkled fossilized erudite ever. She still is, apparently. I looked over my right shoulder, following her lead.

An immense back-wall panel glided open, exposing the biggest library vault, EVER, I thought, leaving me baffled, in pure awe.

"The pussy goes first," she says.

House 12

Getting the luggage out of the taxi, Cleo stared at the drawbridge. I was proud to show her this masterpiece of modern art, entrance to my families save haven, as it has always been. Look, starting to sing to us in tremble high notes... Grandma knows we're coming!