Thursday, October 19, 2017

Monster Mash Countdown Blitz Day Four: Sons of the Sphinx by Cheryl Carpinello





I’m a retired high school English teacher. A devourer of books growing up, my profession introduced me to writings and authors from times long past. 

Through my studies and teaching, I fell in love with the Ancient and Medieval Worlds. Now, I hope to inspire young readers and those Young-at-Heart to read more through my Tales and Legends for Reluctant Readers set in these worlds.





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When 15-year-old Rosa agrees to help the ghost of King Tut find his lost queen Hesena, she doesn't count on falling for him.

Once back in Ancient Egypt, Rosa discovers that finding Hesena if not all she must do and is not as easy as she thought it would be, even though she carries part of the lost queen in her soul. She must also keep out of the reach of the living Horemheb—who crosses mortal boundaries using Seth's evil magic—if she is to stay alive to make it back
 home.







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Snippet:

No way! “Hey, Tut. This sphinx still has its nose. This isn’t The Sphinx.”

“What are you saying, Roosa? Come and help me clear the sand away from the stele.” “I said, this isn’t The Sphinx. It still has its nose.”

“Of course, it has a nose. That’s the way it was made.”

“No. You don’t understand,” I protest. “The Sphinx in my time has no nose. It’s been broken off for centuries.”

Tut casts me a perplexed look. A tingling sensation goes through me like when you touch your tongue to the two terminals of a battery. “Come, Roosa. We need to unbury the stele.”

I follow blindly, still looking at the undamaged face of the Sphinx. It’s definitely more striking to see it in one piece.

“People have always wondered what happened to it,” I say more to myself than to Tut. “Guess I won’t find out now.”

It is only as I help Tut scoop the sand away from the top edge of the stele that I realize the sand has drifted and blown all around the Sphinx, burying it up to its neck in places. No wonder it appears smaller.

The desert always reclaims its own, even mighty Pharaohs.”

I jerk my head up searching for the voice. I glance at Tut, but he continues to dig.

My hands wrap themselves around my stomach. The nausea’s coming back. It is her. It is Ankhesenamun.

“It is all right, Rosa. Here in my homeland I find communication easier for short moments.”

Tut stops digging, his eyes glued on me. “Please, Rosa. Show him I still love and support him.”

Confused, I start to question her, but like an avalanche, the answer bursts into my mind.

The picture at home in my room. The two of them. Her longing sits heavy in the pit of my stomach. Unable to do anything else, I nod ever so slightly. Then, with Tut’s expression still questioning, I reach out and touch him as she does in the picture. Energy flows down my arm into my fingertips. Tut grips my hand and presses it to his heart.



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