Bonus Excerpt: Rise to Power
To show respect I fall to my knees before him. The floor is cold, having absorbed the damp of a long winter. The surface is porous, even crumbly here and there, cut of rocks from the Judea mountains. So is the surface of the stage, right in front of my eyes.
I cannot help noting the marks drawn by his spear in the film of dirt up there, around his boots. Scratch, twist, scratch again... No wonder he seems to be in such a royal pain: with all these attendants here to serve him, not a single one has managed to come up with the bright idea of sweeping the floor. They all carry weapons, but not one has a broom.
Sitting nearly immobile, Saul seems as chalky as the walls around him. He sits crumpled—in an odd way—upon the throne. His nails keep digging into the little velvety cushions that are stretched over the carved armrests. Not once does he give a nod in my direction, nor does he acknowledge my presence in any other way.
Which agitates me. It awakens my doubt, doubt in my skill. Much the same as I feel in my father’s presence. Repressed. On the verge of acting out.
So, rising to my feet I blurt out, “Your majesty—”
“Don’t talk,” whispers one of the attendants. “Play.”
I am pushed a step or two backwards, so as to maintain proper distance from the presence of the king. My name is called out in a clunky manner of introduction, after which I am instructed to choose from an array of musical instruments. I figure they must be the loot of war. So when I play them, the music of enemy tribes shall resound here, around the hall.
I pluck the strings of a sitar, then put it back down and pick up a lyre, which I make quiver, quiver with notes of fire! Then I rap, clap, tap, snap my fingers, and just to be cute, play a tune on my flute, after which I do a skip, skip, skip and a back flip.
It is a long performance, and towards the end of it I find myself trying to catch my breath. Alas, my time is up. Even so I would not stop.
Entranced I go on to recite several of my poems, which I have never done before, for fear of exposing my most intimate, raw emotions, which is a risky thing for a man, and even riskier for a boy my age. Allowing your vulnerability to show takes one thing above all: a special kind of courage. Trust me, it takes balls.
So, having read the last verse I cast a look at the attendants, especially the ones closest to me. Their faces seem to have softened. I can sense them beginning to adore me. One of them comes over and taps my shoulder, which nearly knocks me off my feet. Another one laughs. Others wipe their eyes.
Then I glance at Saul, hoping for a tear, a smile, a word of encouragement. Instead I note an odd, vacant look on his face. Utter indifference. It stings me. Am I too short, too young, too curly for the role he has in mind for me?
Wiping the sweat off my brow I bow down before him and turn to leave the court, which is the moment he leans forward on his spear.
“Stop right there,” says Saul. “Tell me: what can you do best?”
To which I say, “Recover.”
He glowers at me as if to ask, Recover? From what?
“From this,” I point out, daring to be honest. “Rejection.”
Bonus Excerpt: Twisted
He turns to me with a sly look. To my surprise, his smile—even with those sharp fangs—is quite endearing.
“Job’s wife, I presume? Hallelujah! I have been expecting you for quite a long while,” says Satan. His voice is sweet. He must have sung in a choir in his youth, because in some ways he sounds as pious as my husband. “Shame, shame, shame on you,” he wags his finger. “You sure made me wait, didn’t you...”
And without allowing time for an answer, he brings a magnifying glass to his bloodshot eye. Enlarged, his pupil is clearly horizontal and slit-shaped.
Which makes me feel quite at home with him, because so are the pupils of the goats in the herds we used to own.
Meanwhile, Satan unfolds a piece of paper and runs his finger through some names listed there. Then, with a gleam of satisfaction he marks a checkbox there, right in the middle of the crinkled page. At once, a whiff of smoke whirls in the air.
Satan blows off a few specks of charred paper, folds the thing and tucks it into his breast pocket, somewhere in his wool. Cashmere, I ask myself? Really? In this heat?
Back home, when I would count my gold coins, this was something I craved with a passion... It would keep me warm during the long winter nights...
Then, without even bothering to look at me, Satan says, “I swear, madam, you look lovely tonight.”
For a moment I am grateful that my husband is among the living. Or so I think. Nowadays, influenced by the elders, he regards swearing as a mortal sin, as bad as cursing. He even plugs his ears, for no better reason than to avoid hearing it. But if you ask me, I swear: without a bit of blasphemy, language would utterly dull, and fit for nothing but endless prayer. Sigh.
Strangely, Satan does not frighten me that much anymore. And so, swaying on my hip bones, I strut out of the cave in his direction. I feel an odd urge to fondle his horns. Along the path toward him I make sure to suck in my belly, because in the company of a gentleman, even a corpse is entitled to look her best.
Bonus Excerpt: A Favorite Son
You may have heard those rumors about me: how I escaped by moonlight, how I hid inside each one of the seven wells of Beersheba, with nothing in my possession but the shirt on my back, how I eluded my enemy, my brother, and then, how frightened I was, how alone. I’m afraid you have been, at best, misinformed—or, more probably, mislead by some romantic foolery, some fiction and lies, the kind of which can easily be found, and in abundance I might add, in the holy scriptures.
I insist: it was not moonlight but rather, high noon. I was wearing no shirt whatsoever—nothing, really, but a goatskin sleeve. There was only one well in which I could hide, not seven. And most importantly, I was hardly alone, for the entire camp—all the maidservants, the shepherds, the guards—stood aghast all around me. So now, you must see that I could not, despite my best intentions, escape stealthily out of there, nor could I elude anyone.
Instead I was flung out, kicking and screaming, with tugs and pulls loosening the remaining shreds of my clothes, and whacks and smacks coming at my bare back from all directions. My left eye swelled up to such a degree that out of necessity, I resorted to use the right one—only to discover, once I raised my head from the dirt, that my brother was standing right over me. His foot could be seen coming straight at me, at an easygoing, unhurried pace, until it turned into a full blown kick.
I managed to roll away, mainly by flailing my arms wildly over my head. With a great sense of urgency I crawled on all four through the crowd, and hid inside the closest well. Luckily it was bone dry, thanks to a yearlong drought. And so for a second, I could hang there by my fingernails and pant, and catch my breath. Then I tiptoed behind the corner, right into the shade of my mother’s tent.
From there I took a plunge and hurled myself downhill—where, to my utter disappointment, I found out that my brother had already caught up to where I was headed, and was waiting there for me with open arms. He made a point of letting me know that his hate for me would, by no means, stand in the way of our closeness.
“Come, Yankle,” said Esav. “I promise not to hurt you.”
“Really,” I said. “Can I trust you?”
“Aha,” said he. “I will just kill you.”
Books by Uviart
My Own Voice
(Volume I of Still Life with Memories)
Ebook: Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo, Smashwords
The White Piano
(Volume II of Still Life with Memories)
Ebook: Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo, Smashwords
The Music of Us
(Volume III of Still Life with Memories)
Ebook: Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo, Smashwords
Apart from Love
(Mix: Volume I and II of Still Life with Memories)
978-0984993208
Paperback
: Amazon, Barnes&Noble,
The Book Depository, Adlibris
Ebook: Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo, Smashwords
Audiobook: iTunes, Amazon US, Amazon UK
Audible US, Audible UK
The David Chronicles
(Volume I, II, and III)
Ebook: Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo, Smashwords
Rise to Power
(Volume I of The David Chronicles)
978-0-9849932-4-6
Paperback: Amazon, Barnes&Noble,
Albiris, The Book Depository
Ebook: Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo, Smashwords
Audiobook: iTunes, Amazon US, Amazon UK,
Audible US, Audible UK
A Peek at Bathsheba
(Volume II of The David Chronicles)
978-0-9849932-7-7
Paperback: Amazon, Barnes&Noble,
Albiris, The Book Depository
Ebook: Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo, Smashwords
Audiobook: iTunes, Amazon US, Amazon UK,
Audible US, Audible UK
The Edge of Revolt
(Volume III of The David Chronicles)
978-0-9849932-8-4
Paperback: Amazon, Barnes&Noble
Ebook: Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo, Smashwords
A Favorite Son
978-0-9849932-5-3
Paperback: Amazon, Barnes&Noble,
Adlibris, The Book Depository
Ebook: Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo, Smashwords
Audiobook: iTunes, Amazon US, Amazon UK,
Audible US, Audible UK
Twisted
978-0984993260
Paperback: Amazon, Barnes&Noble,
Albiris, The Book Depository
Ebook: Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo, Smashwords
Audiobook: iTunes, Amazon US, Amazon UK,
Audible US, Audible UK
Home
978-09849932-3-9
Paperback: Amazon, Barnes&Noble,
Albiris, The Book Depository
Ebook: Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo, Smashwords
Audiobook: Amazon US, Amazon UK,
Audible US, Audible UK
Children’s Books by Uviart
Jess and Wiggle
978-1494920968
Paperback: Amazon
Ebook: Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo, Smashwords
Now I Am Paper
978-1494919429
Paperback: Amazon, Barnes&Noble
Ebook: Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo, Smashwords
My Own Voice Page 14
