Hullo! I’m back! So sorry for the long absence, but there were so many things to do, artifacts to uncurse, new books to write, scrapes to be got out of. Well, you know the drill. I’m very sorry for having abandoned you for the last two months. So sorry, in fact, that I thought I’d have a contest to start things back up.

And I think this contest will have to do with demonic cats.

The Egyptians had the right of it on cats. The goddess Bastet, was the personification of the gentle, warm, nurturing power of the sun, where as the goddess Sehkmet, with the head of a lioness embodied the sun’s fierce, destructive power.

Much as my cat does. Warm and loving one minute, mad, stalking huntress the next.

So do any of you have any demonic cat stories? Times when your normally sweet kitten seemed to go berserk?

For example, the time my brother Henry was giving our cat a lovely tummy rub. She lay relaxed on the floor, purring, and he was rubbing her soft, furry stomach. Then, with no warning whatsoever, she decided his hand—the same one that had been rubbing her tummy mere seconds ago—was a rabid rat that must be killed at all costs, and clamped his hand in her two front paws and shredded it with her two back paws. Tore Henry’s hand to ribbons! When she was all done, she padded over to him and rubber her head against his knees in a friendly manner, completely ignoring the red welts she’d made.

Honestly, Is that not demonic? You can read another example of demonic cat behavior here.

To enter the context, post your own demonic cat story in the comments below. Try to keep it to two or three short paragraphs. The winner will receive a small, fetching statue of Bastet herself!

(And remember – no last names! I’d hate it if the Serpents of Chaos were able to locate you!)

Seth was the Egyptian god of Chaos. He was brother to Osiris, the wise and beloved god of the Underworld.

Seth had dominion (which means he ruled over) chaos and the barren desert. He was very powerful and much feared. He could be violent and destructve. For some parts of Egyptian history, he was viewed very similarly to the Devil. During other parts of history, he was seen more as someone who ruled over chaos, understanding that it had to be acknowledged before it could be defeated.

He was so terrible that often times Egyptian artists made sure to paint him smaller than he really was so that he looked harmless. They were afraid if they drew or painted him bigger, it might give him more power.

Seth has quite a varied history, having at one time killed his brother Osiris and chopped him up into little pieces, which Isis collected so she could put the god of the Underworld back together. (Myths can be so grisly sometimes, can’t they?) He also fought a ferocious battle with Horus, the son of Osiris and Isis.

But on his good days, Seth could use his ferocious power for good. He battled the serpent Apep to save Ra. And oftentimes Egyptian magicians invoked his magic in order to battle chaotic or dangerous forces, thinking one needed violence and destruction to fight violence and destruction. Rather like the old saying fight fire with fire.

But now you understand why having an entire secret organization devoted to Chaos would be a very, very bad thing!

Wedjat eyes were a hugely popular symbol of protection and good luck in Egypt. Wedjat eyes can actually represent one of two things, and often incorporate both. One, it is symbolic of the lunar eye of Horus, which was destroyed by the god Seth, then restored to healthy by Thoth. That aspect grants healing and restorative powers. But, it also represents the fierce Eye of Ra–the Egyptian name for the Sun. (That was an actual goddess’s name–wouldn’t that be horrible? To have your name be Eye of Ra? I can just hear it now, “Eye of Ra, where is your hat? Quit dawdling, Eye of Ra!”)

Anyway, being associated with the Eye of the Sun gives the symbol very strong protective properties as well.

I thought it might be fun to have another contest, since we haven’t had one in a while. How about if you invent your own amulet – What shape or color would it be? What materials would it be made out of? And most importantly, what would it protect against?

For example, I would love an amulet that protected me against my grandmother’s overly-critical eye. I think it should be made of something sweet, to counteract her bitter nature. Honey, perhaps? No, no. Too sticky. Maybe a small lump of sugar? Or a sweet of some sort? A lemon drop? No, still a little too much sour in it. Whatever it’s made out of, it should be shaped like a little sun, to remind her to have a sunny disposition. Or shaped like a heart, to remind her of love and kindness. Something she’s seriously lacking.

How about you? What sort of amulet are you most in need of?

The winner of the contest will receive their very own wedjat eye amulet! We’ll run the contest from today thru June 16. That’s ten days, which should give everyone plenty of time to enter. And remember the contest rules: Post your entry in the comments section of this post, and first names only so the Serpents of Chaos have no way of finding you!

Have fun, and good luck!

Oh no! The most horrible thing has happened and I am in the hottest of water. This morning, while I was patrolling the Egyptian exhibit, I noticed the scratching noise growing louder and louder. When I went to investigate, the sound turned to cracking noise. Then, all of a sudden, the statue of Osiris burst into a hundred pieces and a small Benu bird stepped out of his chest cavity. The bird and I stared at each other in shocked silence.

Then who should happen by just then but the horrid Clive Fagenbush! He heard the cracking sounds, too, and had come to investigate it.

“What did you do to it, you wretched girl?”

Have I mentioned Fagenbush dislikes me as much as I dislike him? “Nothing!” I said. “I heard a noise, just like you did, only I happened to arrive sooner, and the whole thing burst into pieces. I never even touched it!”

But of course he didn’t believe me. Grown ups never do.

“I suppose it just burst apart on it’s own, then?”

“Well, yes, actually.”

“An then it just happened to change shape into a Benu bird?”

The bird had stopped looking at me and now stood as still as stone. How did he manage that, I wonder? “Well, the legend of the Benu did say that it burst forth from Osiris’s heart, you know, as a symbol of regeneration,” I pointed out.

Fagenbush took a step closer, his mouth pinched in anger. “Do not quote Egyptian legends to me. I shall speak to your father about this.”

Oh, dear. I was so hoping he wouldn’t. Then I had an idea! “Speak to him all you want, just be sure you tell him what really happened. Look here. See how the sun comes in through the window? And see how the sunlight shines directly on the statue? I think someone carelessly set up the display in the first place, and the sun was too strong for such an old artifact and corroded it. Which makes me to wonder. Who did set up this display? Was it you, Fagenbush?”

Fagenbush grew pale, and I knew I had scored a direct hit. “But surely you know how bad sun is for objects this old? Even I know that.”

“It wasn’t sunny when we rearranged the exhibit last spring. I had no idea sun would come anywhere near it.”

“Yes, well, isn’t that what my father pays you to know? Really, I think I shall have to speak to him about you.” Then, the last word still hanging in the air, I turned and left the room, quite pleased with myself. Because honestly, what I told Fagenbush was mostly true. It was the sun that had caused the statue to come apart, but not because it weakened the clay. It was because the sun had triggered the magic hidden in the statue.

According to legend, the Benu bird only comes forth every 500 years (much like a phoenix). But for the last 1500 years, the statue had been buried in a tomb where the sun couldn’t touch it. Now, here in the museum, with the winter sun coming in the window at this particular angle, it had finally reached the statue and caused the Benu bird to burst forth.

But of course, Father believed Fagenbush’s version of events, and now I’m stuck washing the glass cabinets in the sword room. I don’t know how Father can trust that man.

I suppose I should tell you about the curse of Awehat so you’ll understand about the mask.

Awehat was a priestess back in the Middle Dynasty who served Kuk, one of the gods worshipped in Hermopolis.

Now Awehat was very beautiful and a bit vain about it. Of all the priestesses, she had the largest mirrors, the most cosmetics, and the fanciest headdresses, but she served her god well, which pleased Kuk, so he ignored her flaws. Plus, the truth was, he was a little bit vain himself, and loved having such a beautiful priestess serve him.

Kuk was the god of darkness and obscurity (which basically means being hidden or unknown). Every night as the sun set, he would leave his temple and go out into the cool of the night and do…well, whatever it is that gods of darkness and the unknown do. And every morning, just before dawn touched the sky, Kuk would return to his temple, exhausted from his night’s work. Awehat would have all his offerings ready for him, sweet wine, honey cakes, and the finest of grains all laid out for his pleasure. Once he’d eaten his fill, she would wash his feet with her long, black hair (it sounds beastly, I know, but it’s what priestesses did.) Then Kuk would retire to the deepest, most secret part of the temple to sleep through the hot hours of the day, and everything was lovely.

Except…Kuk wore a beautiful golden mask to hide his face from the world (all the better to be hidden and unknown). And Awehat was not only a little vain, but a lot curious, especially since Kuk had never removed his mask in front of her. She thought this was carrying the obscurity thing a bit too far.

So one day, as she waited for her god to awake, she got the bright idea to creep into his inner sanctum and take a peek at his face. He slept deeply, you see, and she was certain he’d sleep right through. (In addition to being a little vain and a lot curious, Awehat was a bit dim.) Of course the moment she pulled the golden mask from Kuk’s face, he awoke. But it was too late. She’d seen his face. And it wasn’t exactly beautiful, like she’d been led to believe. It was ugly and frog-like. In fact, his whole head was that of a frog.

Kuk was furious and embarrassed (anger and embarrassment are a wretched combination) that his most beautiful priestess now knew just how ugly he really was. So he cursed her.

He decreed that she should also have to wear a mask. For all eternity. And if anyone happened to remove it so that they could gaze upon her beauty, they would be stricken by festering boils for their troubles.

Luckily, when Mother found the mask, it was no longer actually on Awehat’s face, so she didn’t get struck by the boils. But, a few years ago, when I was cleaning the mask for the exhibit, I, um, well, I happened to try it on. Just wanting to see what it would feel like! (I was quite young, you know. Only nine.) and I contracted a horrible case of festering boils.

Needless to say, once I’d dealt with my own boils, I removed the curse from the mask at once. Only now it seems to have regenerated itself. Honestly! Don’t I have enough to do around here without having to remove these beastly curses twice!