Journal of the Forgotten

Soft-bound leather glares at me as the journal sat on the desk.

This book, filled with frayed pages and Sanskrit, was the last thing my Nana Ann recorded her discoveries in before she disappeared.

In a few hours, I will be presenting at Oxford University to the freshmen in the History Master’s program, and the professor was hopeful that I would use my Nana’s research and my knowledge to educate his students, which means opening this journal will be my saving grace.

Swallowing thickly, I inhale deeply one last time and make my way towards my desk, fingers trembling as I reach for the journal, and I finally unravel the cord and open the book.

A musty scent hits my nose first as I peel the cover back, revealing the first page of notes written by my Nana Ann, and I release the breath I did not realize I was holding.

The first page of the book showed messy scrawls of Mary-Ann’s handwriting, documenting her travels from America to Scotland and from Scotland to Egypt. Continuing to read, I discover that Mary-Ann was excited to stand in that desert once again, and that even though she was pregnant, she was going to brave the sweltering sun and difficult landscape.

June 14th, 1924

Cairo, Egypt

Today marks the first day for my team and me to begin our search for Nefertiti’s Tomb. It is 100 degrees where we are, and it is climbing, but I cannot allow the heat to stop me from doing what I came here to do.

Nefertiti has been hidden for so long, and it is time for someone to put in the effort of bringing her to light.

Pregnancy aside, I will do everything in my power to discover where this queen has been laid to rest. She deserves to be in the limelight and praised for her courage in ruling a nation, and I put my faith in the Great Maker to show me the way.

Mary-Ann Kalich

A smile tugs at my lips, fingertips tracing along my Nana’s handwriting, but I can’t sit here, wishing for her to be here when I never met the woman, especially since she vanished so many years ago.

Shaking my head, I sit down at my desk, taking out a notebook and pen, and I begin flipping through Mary-Ann’s journal, scouring through it for something of value.

Clicking my pen rapidly, I skip more of Mary-Ann’s diary entries, not wanting to read about the mundane problems she and her team had, and as I stop on an interesting entry, my bedroom door creaks open.

“Ellie, you need to eat something. It’s been hours since you had lunch,” my best friend, Cass, says, her voice laced with concern.

“I’m not really hungry, Cassidy,” I reply, barely looking at her over my shoulder as I start reading again.

June 23rd, 1924

Cairo, Egypt

We’ve found something!

A cave, once part of a pillar, has been dug up. Thomas wants me to stop because of the babies, but I cannot.

This pillar must be part of a larger structure, a temple, I assume, and I refuse to halt the excavation crew simply because my children are eager to see this cruel world.

Amr said he has never attempted to explore such a part of the desert, given how unpredictable the sand below can be, but he is optimistic.

Giving up is not in my blood. We must keep digging. Something is waiting for me in that cave; I just know it.

Mary-Ann Kalich

Below Mary-Ann’s signature is a crude sketch of the dig site and a grainy photo of her, my great-great-grandfather Thomas, and a mystery man, all smiling in front of a tent, sand billowing around them.

While I jot down my discoveries, Cassidy comes back with a bowl in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, and she places both on my desk, prompting me to pause and gaze at her curiously.

“Eat. Now. I won’t bother you while you’re working, but you have to eat. I’m not dealing with your cranky attitude later because you’re hungry.”

My best friend demands that I eat, pointing out that I’ll be cranky later due to hunger, and I blush in embarrassment, nodding in understanding as the blonde swiftly exits my room.

Picking up the bowl, I shovel a spoonful of the stew into my mouth and munch on it, sighing at the savory taste of steak and vegetables, and I proceed with my research.

Mary-Ann’s own research mentioned other missing tombs, ones that she wished to uncover next, after Nefertiti is located, including Khufu, Alexander the Great, and even Thutmose II, and I make note of each missing pharaoh and queen, wanting to finish what my great-great-grandmother started.

Mary-Ann kept writing about the possible location of Nefertiti’s burial place, believing she was laid to rest in a tomb unknown to anyone but her closest friend or husband, which I am sure is the case.

June 26th, 1924

Aswan, Egypt

How could Nefertiti possibly be buried so far away from her husband, King Akhenaten? He was most likely laid to rest in Amarna before being moved to the Valley of the Kings near Luxor, but this temple is even further south.

We’re near Lake Nasser, a few kilometers southwest of Aswan, and this temple is providing more information than anything I could have imagined, but my time is running out.

The babies are not liking being here, and I know they are ready to come into this world. Amr told me not to worry about the excavation site, because he will be the one to keep it safe while I am gone, but after I deliver, I won’t be able to contain myself.

Maybe I could sneak out of the hospital once I know I am alright and my babies will be in Thomas’s hands.

No one would even know I was gone … Yeah, Nefertiti won’t have to wait long.

She knows I am close.

Mary-Ann Kalich

A sense of dread rolls through my veins at these words, knowing what is about to happen, even if it has already come to pass, and I proceed with my reading.

Mary-Ann wrote down a few hieroglyphs, but I am not certain what they mean since I’m still learning. My Nana’s, once beautiful, handwriting grows sloppier and sloppier with her exhaustion and excitement, and as I flip to yet another page, a photo captures my attention.

It is one from within the hospital where Nana gave birth, and she is holding Pawpaw and Auntie Lynn with great-great-grandpa Thomas. Her cheeks are puffy, and her eyes are filled with tears as both she and Thomas smile for the camera, happy to finally meet their children.

Tears well in my eyes as I gaze at the picture, thumb brushing over the captured moment as if time was stopped forever at that exact point in history, and I sniffle.

After looking at the picture for a long while, I flick to the next part in Nana Ann’s journal, noting the messy scribbles, and my breath catches in my throat, knowing I have come to the end of her last moments.

July 1st, 1924

Dig Site, 100 kilometers from Lake Nasser

I had to.

I’m sorry, Thomas.

Take care of the little ones for me while I am gone.

Something is calling to me, and I cannot ignore it.

I’ll be back as soon as I can.

I love you.

Mary-Ann’s last words scream at me, seeming like chicken scratch instead of a farewell, and she did not sign her name as if she were anticipating coming back.

My shoulders slump, a watery laugh escaping me as my tears fall, dripping onto the worn brown paper, and I lift a hand to my face to remove my glasses. I have never been able to read all the way through her notes in this book, too afraid of the ending, though I’ve known it for over half my life.

Mary-Ann should have been more careful.

She must have known that braving the hot desert all on her own, merely days after giving birth, was dangerous.

Though nothing seemed to deter her, nor could it have dampened her curiosity, and unfortunately, that cost her precious time and most definitely her life.

But now that I am here, I am going to do everything in my power to find Nefertiti and even bring Mary-Ann home if it’s the last thing I do.

With that thought, I close the journal, spine aching from being hunched over my desk for the last few hours, and I pat the leather cover, promising to come back with a fresh, new perspective.