by Derek Miller
***
I was invited to train with Saul’s personal guards. They did it as a jest, a way to humiliate me and put me in my place, but the joke was on them. I bested them one by one, and then all at once. Archery, sword-fighting, sling shooting, and even hand to hand combat; no matter the scenario, I could not lose. I felt that mysterious power once again and did not fight it. My senses were heightened, my strength and speed unparalleled. It was as if I could see their punches before they were thrown, the targets grew so large it was like aiming at a horse. How could I miss? I fear that my actions were a mistake. The looks of resentment I once received have been replaced by looks of hatred. Why didn’t I just let them win? I should have known better. Just because I can beat someone, does not mean that I should.
***
The battles take a terrible toll. Men who were alive one day are gone the next. Women are widowed and children orphaned by the hundreds. True to his word, Saul has not let me join in the fighting. Even after witnessing my combat prowess and hearing my pleas, he refuses to allow it. There must be more I can do for my king and country than play music.
***
A beast of a man known as Goliath, the champion of the Philistines, deals swift deathblows to our troops. It is as if they are bugs being squashed under his monstrous feet. His armor is so thick it prevents any arrows from piercing his skin, and his reach is so long that none can get within striking distance. I pray that someone strikes him down before more of my comrades are counted among his victims.
