GARTH’S AUCTIONS
“Biography of an Object” Writing Contest
Clothed in Gold
By Catherine S. of Delaware, Ohio
An intruder! Get out! GET OUT! Oh, it’s just a human. Sorry, I thought it was an ibis breaking into
this tomb! Call me Harhut. I was once a falcon, soaring over the Nile, brave and proud. Ah, those were the
days… now, I am dressed in rags, rags, I tell you! No more than simple wrappings stained mahogany! I
deserve cloth of gold! The Egyptians may have mummified every creature they found on the banks of the
Nile, but I deserve it! I’ll prove it to you, I’m not like the rest.
I was raised by my mother, Akila. My father I never knew. He was killed by an ibis… what? You
don’t know what an ibis is? Wow. Such lack of intelligence! Wha‐ stop, stop! Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Don’t
get mad at me! I’ll tell you what an ibis is. An ibis is a bird. It has white and black plumage. Ibis’ legs are
long, and their bills are too, curling in at the end. When I was born, there was a war going on between the
falcons and the ibises, and that’s what my father died in.
You see, falcons and ibises were both held in high regard by the Egyptians. Falcons were symbols
of Horus, the Egyptian sky god; Morth, the god of war; Re, the sun god; Sokar, the mortuary god; and
Hathor, wife to Horus, though she was only sometimes symbolized as a falcon. Ibises were considered the
incarnations of Thoth, another powerful god.
One day, the ibises got too stuck‐up. They were crowing to us about how better they were. The
falcons showed the ibises how they felt with their claws, and soon we were in an all‐out war. Ibises made
combating swords, and falcons sharpened their flight skills to become quicker, fiercer, and more
dangerous.
There. Enough background on the ibises? Good. Now back to my story. When I was just beginning
to develop my flight feathers, Akila found a falcon egg abandoned by our nest. A male falcon hatched. We
named him Sethos, and took him in as family. I stayed around the nest longer than I probably should
have, raising Sethos. Sethos was okay at fighting and flying, my best skills, but excelled at reading and
writing, which I utterly failed at. Akila would often brag to other falcons about Sethos’s intelligence. I
wouldn’t be brought up at all.
I began to despise Sethos, just a little. I couldn’t help it! He got all the attention. Sethos could feel
our brotherly bond splitting. One night, he sat me down and told me, “Harhut, you don’t have to be good
at the things I’m good at. We’re different, you and I, but that doesn’t mean we’re not brothers. I’ll talk to
Akila, try and get her to appreciate your skills more.” That sounded okay to me, so that’s what we settled
on.
Whenever Akila began to brag, she spoke of her taller, younger son’s intelligence, but she also
spoke of her elder son’s fierceness. Older, important falcons began to notice me a little more. I began to
feel more significant. One day, a military leader from the side of the falcons came to me and offered to
train me in some of the things the army did, as long as I would consider going into battle. I happily agreed
and began training. I over passed Sethos in greatness, and now everyone seemed to know my name. I was
respected‐ the sharp, young, strong fellow who would make a good commander.
One night, the urge to go into battle became unshakable for me! I couldn’t ever imagine not
fighting. The craze for battle made me pack up some food and daggers, stuff them in one of Akila’s dishtowels, and start to fly out the door. Suddenly, a figure blocked my way‐ Sethos. And, as you can
imagine, he was not happy at all.
“Harhut, what are you doing?” he screeched. “Have you lost your mind? Are you going into the
WAR? YES, YOU’VE COMPLETLEY LOST YOUR MIND!” I said nothing, standing defiantly, hoping he would
move so I could leave.
“Let me go, Sethos. I don’t want to hurt you, but I have to go to this war. They need me.”
Sethos stared. “Harhut, they don’t need you. Sure, those greedy falcon leaders would love another
young falcon, but understand, they’re just using you! There’s nothing they personally like, admire, or care
about you! Snap out of it, snap out!”
In my trance‐like obsession, I swung a dagger out from the dishtowel at Sethos, screaming,
“MOVE!” The dagger hit it’s mark. A red gash appeared on Sethos’s chest. He staggered, his eyes big, and
glazing over with each passing second. Sethos fell backward out of the nest. I watched him fall, not
realizing what I had just done.
A shadow stirred in the back of the nest. I saw Akila’s eyes open. She stared sleepily at me. “Har‐
Harhut? Where’s Sethos?” Then it sunk in. I had been blinded by my lust for battle. Killed my brother,
after I had raised him all these years. I dropped the dishtowel in shock. They say every good fighter has a
regrettable back‐story. Now, I had mine.
I flew out into the night, all my elegance in flight forgotten, the use of sight neglected. I’m sure I
slammed into several trees, but I kept going. Past all the falcons’ nests, past the Nile, and coming upon the
Pharaoh’s palace. Tears were slowly trickling down my face, and guilt weighted me down like a stone.
Suddenly, I was stopped in flight, slamming into a mesh material. I was in a net! I bent my wing and
smashed my face, and I was there until morning. Very uncomfortable, I tell you, very!
What? Why are you laughing? It’s not funny! That really hurt! This is supposed to be a moment of
pity! I just lost my brother, I’m blindly flying into the night, and I have just been painfully caught in a net!
Some listeners are truly the most disrespectable beings ever… ugh… now, on with my story.
In the morning, gentle hands pulled me out of the net. I was hurting too much to put up a struggle,
so I stayed limp. All I managed to do was twist my head around to see who was carrying me. I saw a
beautiful woman, with dark hair, and smooth skin. She smiled. I blacked out.
I woke up with my wing feeling a lot better than it had. A few people were around me, working on
my wing with some strange tools. Had it not been for my wing feeling better as they progressed, I would
have lashed out at all of them. After a while, the people backed away, revealing the lady standing at the
back of the room. The lady smiled again, and put down her smooth arm to me. I timidly hopped on. The
lady walked out of the room.
We walked into an open space. A man stood at the other end of the room. He looked different than
the lady, his hair curly and his body muscular, but he had his arm held out like the lady, and in the palm of
his other hand, he held a piece of meat! I flew out, my speed returning, to land on the man’s arm and eat
the meat. The man laughed heartily. “I told you it would work!” he said to the lady. The lady laughed, too.
Years passed by. People called the lady Cleopatra, and the man Marc. I had fit in with them easily.
Marc was a man I loved to please, and Cleopatra almost seemed to understand me. They took me out on
“hunts”, where we would find a rodent and have me catch it, then bring it back. One day, something went
wrong that would never be right again. Marc had been gone for what seemed like forever, and Cleopatra was struggling to stay positive.
On this day, Cleopatra was sitting with me on her arm, and talking to me in the sweet way she always did,
when a man ran in. He blurted something out fast to Cleopatra. She gasped, her eyes widening until the
seemed bigger than moons. She began to cry. “Marc, Marc!” she whispered.
I began to ruffle my feathers uneasily. I was getting freaked out, because she never acts this way.
Cleopatra finally said something to the man, who walked away. Cleopatra sat for another minute or two.
Finally, she set me on the floor and walked to the corner of the room. She picked up a clay jar. Shaking,
she opened the lid. A snake slithered out!
I took to the air. With a screech, I spiraled down, but pulled up in shock. Cleopatra was holding out
her wrist to the snake! Fluff‐brain! Didn’t she know it would hurt her? I began to spiral down again.
Hisssssssssssss. Too late. The snake struck her wrist. Cleopatra wavered, then gently hit the floor. As I was
flying toward the snake, it lunged toward me, fangs dripping blood. I avoided the fangs and raked it’s
back with my talons, using a move I had learned from the battle training. Nothing happened. The snake’s
scales were too hard.
Flying out of the snake’s range, I realized the palace was empty. Gliding around for a minute, I saw
an open window. Come on, Harhut! I told myself. You can do this! Come on! Go outside! Find some falcons
you know. Settle down. Maybe start a family. That’s what Marc and Cleopatra would have wanted you to do!
I flew out the window. I started to fly over the Nile, looking for another falcon.
Naturally, I had forgotten about the ibises. I had been gone from that world for so long… I
remembered them right when the spear tip pierced my chest and I saw a white and black flash. Then I
remembered‐ the ibises controlled the Nile and it was unsafe to fly over. I landed in the Nile with a loud
splash, my life ending the moment I hit the water. Later on, the Egyptians found my body and mummified
it, giving it the same embalming practices used on humans. I highly doubt you want to know the tedious
practice of mummification, as it is long and somewhat sickening.
So, that ends my story. I was the falcon of the noble Marc and Cleopatra! I attacked a snake! I was
shot down by an ibis! I am now wrapped in rags! By any chance, do you know someone that can clothe me
in gold? No? Scarab beetles! I had high hopes… oh well. Go, now. Tell my tale, and perhaps I shall one day
be clothed in gold.
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