Fiction Ghostwriter Sample: Adult Commercial Fiction

 

11.34pm, Christmas Eve, 2012. The torchlight flickered over the sandy stone as Reion helped a heavily pregnant San along the path towards the Temple of Seti I. Although Egypt had been warm that day, even for December, the night air was chilly and both Reion and San shivered as they approached the huge, white structure of crumbling stone.

‘I don’t hear any ghosts yet,’ said San, as they neared the temple’s entrance.

They were in Abydos, home of Osiris, the Egyptian ruler of the underworld, where it was said at night you could hear the spirits congregating to pay homage to Osiris on their journey to the afterlife.

Reion shone the torch into the entrance of the temple. ‘The ghosts will probably get us when we go inside.’

San didn’t appreciate the joke. After eight months of carrying a child she’d lost her sense of humour.

They passed through the high, stone entrance way and found themselves in a bare courtyard with pools of green water on the floor and stains on the walls; an unremarkable area of the temple indeed, except that it contained a doorway to the First Hypostyle Hall – the room Reion was most interested in.

‘San. This way.’

They splashed through the green puddles and walked through the doorway into the hall, taking a moment to let their eyes adjust to the darker surroundings.

‘It’s supposed to be in here somewhere.’ Reion shone the torch over the walls and up towards the ceiling. ‘On the… there! San, look.’

On the left-hand-side of the entrance, about eight metres up, was a yellow stone slab carved with thick hieroglyphics. They looked like simple drawings of modern objects.

Reion held the torch on the symbols and stood, mesmerised, taking in their curves and lines.
‘Look,’ said Reion, pointing with his free hand. ‘See it? The flying saucer. Right in the middle.’

‘Amazing,’ said San, equally mesmerised. ‘That’s amazing.’

Reion nodded. ‘Imagine us seeing this today of all days,’ he murmured. The third day of the death of the Sun.

In the darkness, the temple was as still and peaceful as a church. It was so quiet, Reion could hear San’s steady breathing as she gazed at the pictures carved thousands of years ago, before space travel, before air travel, before cars.

A splashing sound broke the silence suddenly and San took a sharp intake of breath. She clung to Reion’s arm.

‘I think my waters just broke.’

‘No. San, I don’t think…’

But San nodded vigorously. ‘Yes. My water’s broken.’ She gripped her stomach. ‘They’ve broken.’ There was genuine panic in her eyes.

‘OK. OK, don’t worry.’ Reion tried his best to stay calm. ‘We need to get back to the bus. Let’s just get back to the bus.’

San gritted her teeth and shook her head. ‘Can’t,’ she managed to say. The blood had drained from her face and Reion could see she was in pain. ‘Get me a stretcher or something.’ With that, she slid to the floor and began to pant heavily.

‘OK. Listen San. I’m going to get Amsu. I’ll be back in a second. Just wait there.’

San nodded, continuing to blow air out of her mouth. Sweat ran down her cheeks.

Not wanting to leave her alone in the dark, Reion dropped the torch to the floor before he ran out of the temple. His feet pounded the gravelly floor like hammers as he raced towards the bus.

‘Amsu! Amsu!’ The murky outline of the luxury tour bus came into view. ‘Amsu, we need help!’

Amsu, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, poked his head out of the bus doors. ‘What? What problem?’

‘Amsu. We need a stretcher. San’s giving birth. She’s having the baby.’ He did a silly mime of carrying a baby, and then another of pretending to lie down. ‘Stretcher? To carry San. She can’t walk. We need to carry her.’

‘Oh my lord!’ Amsu threw his hands up to the heavens, plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it on the ground. ‘Under the bus.’

They both ran to the side of the bus and Amsu wrenched open the luggage hold and jumped inside, his skinny arms flailing around and pushing various sports bags and boxes out of the way. After a moment he clamped his dry fingers around a green sack covered in oil stains and wrenched it over two boxes of Coca Cola cans.

‘Camp bed,’ he explained, pulling the sack out of the hold and emptying its contents onto the concrete floor. Both men dropped to their knees and began to assemble the various metal poles around the thick canvas sheet until they had something resembling a stretcher.

He and Reion grabbed either end and ran towards the temple, neither caring that the metal corners were cutting into their legs with every jog forward and back.

‘San!’ Reion heard San screaming. And then nothing. Total silence. As he and Amsu ran into the temple, eerie torch light shone from the depths of the building. When they reached the First Hall, puffing and panting and holding the stretcher between them, neither were prepared for what they saw.

‘I… how did…’ Reion tried to speak, but the words refused to stick into sentences. Amsu just stood there totally dumb, his mouth hanging open.

Before them sat San, kneeling on the floor looking hot and tired, the torch light reflecting off the walls of the room and casting mystical shadows over her face. In her arms, she held a baby.

 

Reion dropped the camp bed and ran to her. ‘San. San, are you OK? It’s… is it OK?’

The baby wriggled its head and looked quizzically at its father, who looked just as quizzically back.

 

‘M… miracle,’ he told it. ‘You’re a complete miracle.’ For San to give birth so quickly… it was astonishing. Reion stroked the baby’s damp head and felt with every bit of his being just what a moment this was. A truly miraculous moment. It was only then he realised the significance of the time and date. He checked his watch.

‘It’s just gone midnight, San,’ he whispered, still stroking the baby’s head. ‘You gave birth at midnight. Midnight on the 24th of December, 2012. Of all days.’

‘What does it mean?’ asked San.

‘Something important,’ Reion told her. ‘Something very important.’