Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: EERIE (07/28/16)
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TITLE: Ruins | Previous Challenge Entry
By Brenda Kern
08/04/16 -
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The boy peeked around the scrubby bush and watched. What was he looking at? What was he thinking? It’s just an old heap of slabs and stones. No one ever came here, no one even turned their heads as they passed by. A forgotten thing, ignored.
Yet the man seemed carried away in his memories.
A beetle scrambled across the boy’s bare toes and he shook it off, slinging dirt at it, and the old man became aware that he wasn’t alone.
“You, boy, what are you doing?”
The boy froze, but held his ground, locking eyes with the elderly man. The old man could almost see the activity in the child’s mind, wondering if he should run, hide again, or prepare to defend himself somehow.
“I’m not going to hurt you, boy, and I expect that you will not hurt me. I have nothing you can steal, nothing of interest to you. Well, maybe that’s not completely so. I do have stories. I can tell you what happened here. Or do you already know?”
The boy continued in his wariness. Not afraid, just careful. He stood, slowly, assessing the threat. He judged that the old man certainly couldn’t catch him if he ran, and the man didn’t look strong, either. His shoulders relaxed some and he stepped away from the bush.
He took a few steps toward the man, then a few more. “How would I know what happened here? No one speaks of this place. No one looks at it. It is … our shame, somehow. It is ugly. You know what happened? How? I can tell from your clothing and your accent that you are not from here.”
The old man began, “No, I am not from here. I witnessed what happened when I was a boy, about your age, from just about here, looking down over this ridge. I was a slave, taken from my own family and my own homeland, brought here to serve in a wealthy ruler’s home. He and his entire family died here that day, and I ran away. So what happened here, the ending of so many lives, was the beginning of my freedom.”
The boy remained silent, waiting.
“Do you know anything about the tragedy of this place, child, about the destruction of the temple?”
The boy’s face couldn’t conceal his sudden interest. “A temple? These ruins were once a temple?”
“Yes, a temple to Dagon. Have you ever heard that name?” Now it was the old man’s turn to wait, as the boy churned through memories, sifting.
“No. Maybe. Maybe I’ve heard my grandfather say it once. But it seemed a bad word; he was hushed and my father spoke sharply to him. This was a temple to this Dagon? Dagon was a god?”
“A false god, yes. On the day this temple was destroyed, probably about 5,000 people died in the collapse.”
The boy couldn’t comprehend the concept of that many people together in one place. “What made it come down? Was it an earthquake or a very violent sandstorm?”
“No, it was a man. One man. A man named Samson.”
The boy’s face declared doubt and fascination in equal measure. “What happened?”
“He had been a great man, with amazing strength, but in arrogance had wasted everything. He had been captured and bound and blinded. He was brought out during a festival to ‘perform’ for the people, who were filling the temple and even covering the roof. Samson had a servant lead him to the supporting pillars. He prayed, like a beast in anguish, for God to remember him and strengthen him once more. His roaring voice, then …”
The man collected himself. “I saw him place a hand on each pillar and push. The pillars gave way, the roof began to slant and fall, then all of it came down with a huge crashing noise. Screams and cries, shouts and groans floated up with the dust and smoke. Survivors ran past me, but I couldn’t move. Then no sounds, no movement, just stillness. And death.”
“I never forgot that silence and the lesson I learned from Samson—-that it is never too late to regain trust in God.”
The old man looked into the pit once more, remembering the unimaginable, then walked away, saying over his shoulder, “Seek the true God, Yahweh.”
The boy nodded. ”Yahweh.”
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Fictionalized retelling of Samson’s story, from Judges Chapter 16.
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