Memories under the Aton: The True Life of King Nebkheperura.
Copyright ©2026 Horus Michael, All rights reserved.
Genre: Egyptian History & Myths, Biographical Fiction
A.I. Illustrations:
https://www.craiyon.com/en
https://pixabay.com/
Egyptian Photos are by: Gary L. Parks (ARCE).
Kemetic Unorthodoxy is ©® MJC 2026.
Summary:
Relive the life and afterlife of the Golden Pharaoh, King Nebkheperura, the Son of Ra, Tutankhamon. From his time living at Tell al-Amarna (Akhetaton) to his battles abroad, Tut made the effort to acquire Tribute for rebuilding Egypt. Tutankhamon behaves like a Messiah-King in his Age. This book was illustrated with both A.I. and photos from Egypt, and was predicted by American Psychic, Jeane Dixon, in the 1960s.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H7NVVTBN/
Product details
$17.00 USD.
ASIN : B0H7NVVTBN
Publisher : Independently published
Publication date : July 4, 2026
Language : English
Print length : 166 pages
ISBN-13 : 979-8185625507
Item Weight : 10.9 ounces
Dimensions : 6 x 0.38 x 9 inches
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MC 2026.
Chapter 1:
White Linen cloth dangled from the wrapped and scented corpse, the essence of Jasmine and Sandalwood floated gently in the air on columns of incense smoke. The High Priest nodded. It was time.
The corpse was raised up by twelve muscular Temple devotees onto the gilded ramp leading to the Temple’s House of Death. The Mortuary Priest of Anup (Anubis in Greek) announced its departure with the beating of drums. From atop the Temple’s Clerestory windows rained down votive Scarabs made of blue Faience and red Jasper. The drumming continued. The devotees pulled the corpse along the pathway onto a chariot-wheeled vehicle, or hearse. Musicians strung from their Harps and Lyres to the chanting of a Setem Priest, never missing a note.
A cadre of professional Mourners greeted the corpse with lamentation and the throwing of sand behind them. They followed the path to the sepulcher some ninety-nine cubits to the West from the Mortuary Temple. High above the path was a set of gilded granite obelisks bearing the name, “Welcome to Akhetaton, City of the Sun.” It was the ancient name for Tell Al-Amarna. The royal cemetery was nearby.
The room was prepared with a dousing of holy Natron water, a few puffs of incense, and cleaning with linen rags. The corpse was inserted into its receptacle or Mummy case, arranged with a flower garland and sealed. Afterwards the holy black sealant was brushed onto the Mummy case to prevent insects or decay from the air. The 12 Men lifted the stone sarcophagus lid onto its place and retreated out the back entrance while drummers and musicians played a somber tune. A KheriHeb Priest performed the Opening of the Mouth ritual onto a statue of the deceased at the entrance before seals were pressed into the wet plaster. The name read, “MAKETATON, 2nd DAUGHTER OF AKHENATON AND NEFERTITI; True-of-voice.”
“Then it’s done. Princess Maketaton is now one with the Aton, and is at peace,” said the Chamberlain.
Drops of tears fell from the eyes of Queen Nefertiti Nefer-Neferu-Aton, wife of Akhenaton, formerly known as Amonhotep IV Nefer-Kheperu-Ra, son of Nebmaatra Amonhotep III.
“Will you miss her? She was just a child,” said the Harem Master.
“I miss her already,” Nefertiti said while dabbing her eye pigment with a clean cloth.
“Come. Let us not keep our guests waiting. The Funeral Banquet is at the Palace,” said Vizier Ay.
Nefertiti mounted a golden Chariot led by the Vizier back to the Palace. Two large ostrich feather fans were propped up against her torso by Fan-Bearers. The fans moved back and forth in the still breezes.
In another part of Town, the Royal Consort Sitamon was in the Birthing Chamber inside the Malkata North Palace. A large Bes statue protected her in the midst of the room. Bes was a protector of children and against nightmares. He had a lion head with mane, and carried protective weapons. Sitamon was a daughter of Nebmaatra Amonhotep III. She became his Royal Consort due to tradition, not by choice.
Tradition held that once the Royal Queen was too old to produce an heir, the Pharaoh must wed one of his daughters to continue the royal line. Sitamon was the current Royal Consort, a position she held since shortly after her birth. The Great Royal Wife, Queen Tiye, was elderly now.
Sitamon was in for a surprise.
“What do you mean there is more than one?” she gasped. Sitamon was being helped by a Midwife and two Physicians.
“Praise to the Aton! You have twins,” smiled a female Physician. The Midwife cut the umbilicus on the first child.
One child was a blond female and the other was a black-haired male with a cleft palate and something wrong with his left leg. Both actually had a clubbed foot, just like Sitamon’s father, Nebmaatra.
She held them in her arms, laughing slightly. Then she thought about it, and started crying.
The Midwife was startled. “Lady Sitamon, why are you crying?”
“I can’t keep them, I can’t…” Sitamon cried.
“Do you know who the father is?” asked the female Physician, offering a cup of milk.
“Yes. It’s…It’s the Pharaoh, my father.”
Two days later, Sitamon gave her daughter to Queen Tiye to adopt. She said that she didn’t want the responsibility of having children. The son, on the other hand, was a different situation. Sons are traditionally direct heirs to the throne. He could be killed during any dispute with the reigning Pharaoh.
Sitamon created a papyrus boat out of reeds and Lotus flowers. She placed the unnamed child into it with linen cloths, and a few golden trinkets, or amulets, as a token of Goodwill. She placed the raft into one of the intersecting canals connected to the Malkata Palace. The wind blew the papyrus sail downstream towards Akhetaton City.
It was evening. Queen Nefertiti was still in mourning over the sudden death of her 2nd Daughter, Maketaton. She was in her bedroom suite when she heard a baby crying outside.
“Amenti! What is that noise I hear?” asked Nefertiti. She drew closer. In the water was a papyrus raft with something bundled in a colorful cloth, it was a child.
“My Lady? What have you found?” asked a Scribe.
Nefertiti smiled. “Blessings of Aton! It’s an answer to my husband’s prayers, we finally have a son, from God’s Mercy,” Nefertiti held the child.
Akhenaton was sleeping. The time on the sundial was unreadable, but probably like Nine in the evening. Nefertiti brought the child into his room, which was separate and much larger. Akhenaton awoke to a baby babbling.
“What… What is this?” he asked her.
“Do you remember the prayer you sent to Aton, about wanting a male child? Aton has answered us,” she said smiling. She knelt down to his bed and gently placed the child on his lap.
“Do you know who he’s from?” Akhenaton asked, smiling with indifference. “Maybe the Harem didn’t want him?”
“Who cares, he’s ours now. He was wrapped in this cloth,” Nefertiti said.
“Hmm… It appears to be royal linen. He must be descended from Kings, or possibly from outside of Kemt?” Akhenaton paused.
“He doesn’t seem to have a name,” Nefertiti said. “I checked already. What do you think we should name him?”
“How about Desert Mirage?” Akhenaton asked. “In Kemetic, it’s Tut-Ankh-Aton. He appeared to us and yet isn’t really here, a reflection of God.”
Copyright ©2026 Horus Michael, All rights reserved.
