The Atlantis Scrolls

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From the Mediterranean Sea an ominous gust arose to defile the silence that permeated over the peaceful city of Alexandria. Only oil lamps and firelight could be seen through the streets in the mid of night as five figures, disguised as monks, moved swiftly through the city. From a high stone window a boy of barely teenage watched them as they walked, mute, as monks were known to be. He pulled his mother to his side and pointed down at them.

She smiled and assured him that they were on their way to a midnight mass in one of the city’s temples. Fascinated, the young boy’s big brown eyes followed the tiny specks below him, tracing their shadows with his eyes as the black-stretching forms lengthened every time they passed a fire. One man in particular he could observe clearly, hiding something under his robe, something substantial the shape of which he could not discern.

It was a mild, late-summer’s night and a lot of people were outside and the warm lights echoed with merriment. Above them the stars flickered in the clear sky while below massive merchant ships heaved like breathing giants on the rise and fall of the rippling sea. Now and then a cackle of laughter or the breaking of a wine jug would disturb the apprehensive air, but the boy was used to that. The breeze played in his dark hair as he leaned over the windowsill to get a better view of the mysterious group of holy men he was so taken by.

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