Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #12 March 2015 | Page 21

Ahead of him now he saw a glow, faint light, steady, electrical, far in the distance.
On he walked, step by step, he was almost done now, his
legs trembled, only his arm on the wall kept him from
falling.
Closer to the light he could hear voices, they sounded
human, just the mutter of talking, too faint to make out
the words. Then there was music, all swirling pipes and
plucked strings and a wailing voice.
Then suddenly he was blinking, he was at the end of the
corridor, the light blazed out and blinded him, he staggered
forward, blindly walking onward, his foot caught something, he tripped and fell, landing not on hard stone but on
thick carpet, rugs piled on rugs.
He blinked, his eyes dry and painful, slowly vision returned.
He looked up to see a face looking down at him, smooth
tan skin, clean shaven, framed by long brown hair, a regal
nose and eyes that seemed to carry the eons within them.
Below the face was a torso, heavily muscled, not a scar or
mark. Then down to the waist and thick tan fur, great paws
like an enormous cat, behind them the lion’s body, the tail
swishing in the air.

He stuttered. “You’re… you’re, it’s… it’s true, you’re real.
You’re real!”
The creatures voice was mellow but strong, its accent
heavy and carried to echoes of kingdoms long since gone
from time.
“Yes I am real.” The creature chuckled.
“By why are you hiding here, what is this place?”
The Sphinx glanced at the rack of servers, the large computer screens, the huge TV showing some sort of news
program, the thick carpets on the ground. Electric lights
overhead, the music playing from somewhere, a fridge full
of cans.
“My home.”
“But I don’t understand, you’re a myth. A legend, a creature
from ancient Egypt, where did you get all of this?”
“The sphinx pointed at one of the large computer screens.
Word documents were open, dozens of riddles filled each
page. There was a banner on one of the pages; it read
‘Great Sphinx Inc, the world’s best puzzles and riddles’.
The creature laughed, a deep booming sound.
“I write Christmas cracker riddles.”

The man croaked, his voice failed him. The monstrous
creature looked down at him then reached to one side,
picked something up and handed it to the dying man. The
man stared, his mind not understanding what his eyes were
seeing.
The red can, the swirling white writing, droplets of moisture forming on the cool metal.
The desperate man grabbed the can of coke, fumbled at the
pull tab