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New Stage
חיפוש בבמה

שם משתמש או מספר
סיסמתך
[ אני רוצה משתמש! ]
[ איבדתי סיסמה ): ]


מדורי במה








To chapter #1: http://stage.co.il/Stories/404904

6: Daria

"So, Jonathan... Why don't you eat the meat? Are you trying
to make my father angry?"
I was talking to Daria, the girl I already met earlier who
was the daughter of the High Priest.
"What is the meat made of?"
"I'm not sure. Whatever our hunters happen to catch -
Rabbit, venison, or some other wild beast."
"Well, I could eat venison if it was slaughtered properly
and came in no contact with milk or utensils that came in
contact with milk," I tried to explain, "But definitely not
rabbit or most other wild beasts."
"Why is that?"
"These are the commandments of Hashem."
"Who is this Hashem you keep mentioning?"
"He is the Lord God of Israel, who created the entire
universe and is the only real god."
"What do you mean, `the only real god'? Each nation has
different gods, usually more than one..."
"Our God took the Children of Israel out of Egypt into the
Land of Israel, and performed for them lots of miracles on
the way. He forbade us to have or worship any other gods. He
specifically forbade worshipping the Molekh or making human
sacrifices."

Silence ensued.
"Well, My father says we must sacrifice young boys to the
Molekh or he will get angry at us and we'll have no food,"
she said at last.
"And you believe that? What will you do if he decides to
sacrifice you?"
"I'd have no choice but to obey. Don't you obey your
parents?"
I had no idea what to answer.

That evening I didn't eat the meat.
The dark-skinned guard stripped me, tied me up on a bench he
brought in and flogged me with a leather strap. I cried out
in pain. Then blackness engulfed me.

I was too weak to pray Ma'ariv when I woke up in the
darkness. I just kept whispering: "Eli, Eli, lama azavtani?"
(My God, why have you forsaken me?) until I fell asleep
again.

The next day I hoped Daria would come and talk to me, but
she didn't. I asked the boy who brought me dinner about
her.
"I didn't see her today," he said. "I'll try to find out."
This time I wasn't flogged after dinner. My captors seemed
to have given up.
After Ma'ariv I lay awake, trying to think up some plan. I
knew I had to think up something if I don't want to be
sacrificed to a stupid non-existent deity. After a while I
got up and started searching the room.
In a corner on the far side of the bed, I found my
flashlight. I also found the black feather of the dead crow
and stuck it again in my buttonhole.
In the rear there were some earthenware barrels, piled up in
rows and columns. They were all empty.
Between the leftmost column and the one next to it there
seemed to be a small gap. I lowered down the barrels from
the next-to-leftmost column one by one, as silently as I
could. The gap widened enough to let me through. Before me
was a wall.
I shone my flashlight on the wall, without much hope, just
out of desperation. To my surprise, the wall rolled silently
aside, revealing a low tunnel. Without hesitation, I stepped
inside.
The tunnel ended in another wall. I shone my flashlight on
it but nothing happened. Suddenly, I heard voices on the
other side of the wall. I stood and eavesdropped.

"Maria, the eel stew was excellent." I recognized the voice
of the High Priest.
"I'm glad you liked it," replied a woman's voice. "Daria,
why aren't you eating?"
"Because it's not kosher," Daria answered.
"What do you mean?" asked Maria.
"Well, that boy we are holding captive told me that the God
of Israel commanded the Children of Israel to only eat
kosher food. Eels are not kosher."
"What is this nonsense?" asked her father angrily. "Only the
people of Judea follow these stupid rules. There's nothing
wrong with the food Molekh gave us. You should eat and be
thankful to him."

"Why aren't you eating?" he asked after a short silence.
"Why do we sacrifice young boys to Molekh? It's cruel. I
can't believe a true god would make such horrible demands on
his people."
"Don't talk heresy. What's going on with you, I wonder. Next
you'll say that I'm a bad father and that you would rather
be born to a Jewish infidel."

I heard running feet and the slamming of a door. The father
sighed loudly. "I dunno what I'll do with this girl. She's
getting on my nerves."
"Relax, darling, it's just a normal adolescence crisis. It
will pass. Give her time," said the mother.

I knew I had to find a way to save myself and the girl. I
couldn't leave her in the clutches of this monstrous
father.

next chapter: http://stage.co.il/Stories/537268734







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חוות דעת על היצירה באופן פומבי ויתכן שגם ישירות ליוצר

לשלוח את היצירה למישהו להדפיס את היצירה
היצירה לעיל הנה בדיונית וכל קשר בינה ובין
המציאות הנו מקרי בהחלט. אין צוות האתר ו/או
הנהלת האתר אחראים לנזק, אבדן, אי נוחות, עגמת
נפש וכיו''ב תוצאות, ישירות או עקיפות, שייגרמו
לך או לכל צד שלישי בשל מסרים שיפורסמו
ביצירות, שהנם באחריות היוצר בלבד.
I don't know
how much longer
I can complain.


תרומה לבמה




בבמה מאז 17/3/05 8:33
האתר מכיל תכנים שיתכנו כבלתי הולמים או בלתי חינוכיים לאנשים מסויימים.
אין הנהלת האתר אחראית לכל נזק העלול להגרם כתוצאה מחשיפה לתכנים אלו.
אחריות זו מוטלת על יוצרי התכנים. הגיל המומלץ לגלישה באתר הינו מעל ל-18.
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