Tuesday, March 2, 2010


Aschar, the daughter of Caleb, was burdened with shyness and stunning beauty. Her long jet black hair and fine features drew so much attention, she couldn’t hide her embarrassment behind an innocent smile.

Each day she delivered water in a small cart for the guards at every entrance to the camp. This was her responsibility since turning sixteen, which probably explained why Othniel was so diligent with his guard duty and so thirsty all the time.

Unfortunately for Joshua, Othniel’s infatuation with Caleb’s daughter was just another distraction in the hunt for the Midianite woman.

“You'll need a miracle to win her hand”, said Joshua.

Othniel shook his head in frustration.

“Caleb is an old far...”

“...father in the faith,” interrupted Joshua, as he dragged Othniel away before he made a fool of himself gawking at Aschar.

“Come on, there’s no time for chit chat. Look, Phinehas is destroying the whole camp.”

Phinehas, was indeed crashing through tents like a bull on a rampage. With no regard for life or property, he blazed a path of destruction wherever he went.

Barging through bystanders, turning over bales of straw and sending chickens flying into the air - it was easy to see where he had been by the chaos he left behind.

“Why is he so angry?” Othniel asked, in between two rows of tents.

Joshua thought carefully about his answer, with everything going on he wasn’t in the mood to give a speech.

“You never knew his grandfather, did you?” said Joshua.


“Then you don’t really know him.”

“You’ve lost me,” Othniel replied, looking completely dumbfounded.

“Don’t worry,” said Joshua, “there’s time for that later.”

In the secrecy of their tent, the naked Midianite woman rode her drunk companion like a wrangler taming a wild horse. The soft olive skin of her perfectly slender back was completely defaced with elaborate tattoos of mysterious symbols and demons.

One such marking, right between her shoulder blades, depicted a serpent devouring a newborn baby. It was so hideously offensive it would have shocked Zimri to his senses if he saw it, but he never did.

“What harm is it?” she softly whispered, like a black widow seducing her mate into the jaws of death.

“They'll kill me. This is bad idea, don’t you think?” replied Zimri, feeling particularly vulnerable where he lay pinned on the ground beneath her.

“It’s only bad if you get caught,” she replied, “besides, it's just a little baby. Why can’t I have our baby?”

Zimri's drunken stammering turned to sobbing as he realized the error of his ways. He sat up and struggled to squirm his way out from underneath her.

But it was too late.


  1. Tomorrow's blog is going to be a killer.

  2. Well I suppose it is a nice one, in the right context. Actually, I think its the left cheek.