Hazael wasn’t sure how he got here. Hell, he wasn’t even sure of where here even was. The memories that had led him here were faded and unreachable as the sound of snarling dogs nearby.

All he knew was that he was in a ditch, trapped by a broken ankle as the one thing he loved most in the world turned on him, ready to kill him for some unknown reason.

Though, judging by the broken eggshells and the dusting of flour about him, Hazael had made something here in the ditch. Though what was it?

Better yet, could it help him?

Frazzled by the noise of the snarling dogs and the pain of his throbbing ankle, his eyes glanced around wildly for whatever it could be. Luckily it only took a moment for them to settle on the nearby piece of flatbread. It was such a staple of his diet that even the mere sight of it was enough to bring a sense of calm to him. Scrambling for it, Hazael was then horrified to see that he was wrong in his assumption of what it was. That much was clear as he turned in his hands not a Judean treat, but one that was obviously Greek in origin, causing his stomach to churn more violently than the throbbing pain of his ankle or the snarling dog that was now easily seen in the rut.

His fingers curled around the foreign bread in his grasp, the only thing solid in this liquid space where reality blurred with infinity. The dog took another step closer to the cowering boy with a sense of grace that truly was otherworldly. It was so close now that Hazael could see the glowing red irises of its eyes, the mere sight of which caused his own to screw shut out of the sheer terror of the predicament took control of the boy, threatening to bring tears to the boy’s eyes. How cruel was it that this was how he met his end? Mauled to death by a dog in a ditch.

This couldn’t be happening, Hazael silently thought to himself. This can’t be real.

Whether or not he was right didn’t seem to matter to the canine who continued to stalk closer to the now trembling boy with its teeth bared and murder gleaming in its eyes. The distance between them was slowly closing. It was fifteen feet away. Ten feet. Five. There was no escape for Hazael. This monster was going to devour him in just a moment’s notice. There was no denying that this was it. However, there had to be something that he could. Hazael just couldn’t lay down and die here.

That was when his eyes peered open ever so slightly and drifted down to the strange pastry in his hand. Instantly, his mind flashed back to all the times his dogs had excitedly jumped on him if he hadn’t had the foresight to clean the crumbs off of his Simlah. Dogs were very food-driven. Perhaps this one may leave him alone if that had something else to eat?

Without needing to ponder on it any longer, Hazael reeled his arm back, preparing to throw the piece of bread up and over the ditch. It would be out of sight and out of mind, giving him a chance to escape. There was no questioning the decision, it was clear cut and simple. It would work.

But something changed when Hazael locked eyes with the dog again. All other thoughts of escape faded away as he found himself enthralled by the blood red irises. There was just something about the dog’s gaze that made it clear that Hazael would not easily escape. Not when he was a far more interesting prey than anything that could be cooked upon a fire. Without meaning to, the boy’s arm fell slack against him, thwarting his own attempts to escape. Yet, his grip stayed firmly locked on that Grecian bread.

Then without him willing to his arm began to rise again. It was moving of its own accord, almost as if someone invisible and unseen was playing puppeteer with him. His gaze remained locked on the hypnotic irises of the dog though and he didn’t even realize that his arm was drifting towards his mouth. Nor was he aware of him taking a large bite out of the piece of bread before slowly chewing it bit by bit. Without a single conscious thought, the boy devoured the bread, It was only when the last bit of it slid down his throat did he become aware of what he had done. He had just eaten his own means of escape.

Though, in truth, it had already been too late to escape anyway.

The dog’s upper lip turned upwards slightly, even in it’s snarled state before the wolf-like beast closed the last few steps of distance. Hazael didn’t have a chance to react before the beast was right in front of him. The snarling stopped. In fact, the whole world stopped while the dog took in the image of the boy, seemingly sizing him up for some unknown purpose. Something flashed in its gaze, a flicker of disapproval, causing Hazael’s heart to drop.

Then without warning the dog’s jaw opened, launching forward to wrap its predatory teeth around the now screaming boy’s neck.
Hazael rolled over on the pallet, pawing at his throat as he struggled to have the cool night air fill his lungs. His hands shook, still trembling from the dream that had him half-convinced that he would have to pry a dog’s jaw off of it. However, there was no dog here, safe in his home as the night wore on. He knew that right away. After all, the real world felt different than the dream one. It didn’t make it any less frightening though.

Hauling himself up against the wall, almost as if to surveying the room, Hazael labored for his breath for a few moments. Within a few moments, his breath began to stable itself once more, much to the boy’s relief. Once he had himself fully convinced that it was all nothing more than just a bad dream, he carefully lowered himself back down as his eyes were begging for a better dream.

However, before he could once again drift off to sleep, a small voice rung out in the room of sleeping boys. “Hazael?” Little Benaiah hissed in the dark as he lifted himself from his pillow, having been startled awake by the noises that Hazael had made. The elder boy felt a sudden sense of guilt creep up within him. He didn’t mean to scare his youngest brother and he made that as much clear through his regretful tone as he hushed the boy back to sleep.

“Shhhh…. It’s alright. I just had a bad dream.” He said more quietly than normal, unsure if the snoring bodies of his two other brothers Tiras and Jorah were truly asleep as well. They seemed to be as they didn’t react as the sleepy child accepted his answer and flopped back down onto his bed, eager to fall back asleep. Hazael also quickly followed suit with the added hope that he would soon forget the nightmarish hellscape that had been.

But little did the boys know that outside the safety of their home, things weren’t alright. Far away from them, on the other side of the city, a body lay cold in the streets. Neither boy would know the man who now was now stiff in front of the Greek encampment nor would they know how the man came to be there.

Though tomorrow morning, when the sun would rise to display the crimes of the night, the whole of Judea would know his name and they would not forget what had happened to one of their own during the time when evil lurked and the Greeks drank.

They would never forget.