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Every day Selima prayed for Jeruselum. She would close her eyes and pray for the safety of her people, of her home, and of the souls that visit the Holy City. Lately, however, she had prayed more fervently. Weather was always a fickle thing. Oft unpredictable and at times dangerous, it was never something to toy with. A beautiful day could turn into a famine, a light rain could turn into a flood.
It was the latter that worried Selima. As of late rain had been coming down hard and often. Preparations were being made, should the weather linger longer than normal. Provisions were being kept at home, and houses were being fortified to keep the water out. The city was busy preparing for the impending storm.
So perhaps this was why Selima found it unusual to see a man juggling in the middle of the market as she, like many other Judeans, were busy gathering what was needed to wait out the coming storm. People rushed to and fro with barely a glance at the performer. There was much to prepare, and while the people of Judea were selfless, when it came to the protection of their home and livelihood their vision grew narrow and they become oblivious to the needs of others around them.
But Selima’s vision was clear. She was a woman with a large heart and pure intentions. Having gathered her shopping for the day, she had moved to the young man, dropping some Sugh into his bowl. She watched the performance for a bit, keeping a wary eye of the clouds above. The smile had not left her face, though. The man had talent and a soul that he poured into his art. And while not a practical career, he was no tailor or farmer, it was something that Selima could at least appreciate. He had the ability to bring smiles to other people’s faces. At times, there was no greater gift than that.
When his performance was done Selima gave a clap. Clouds were truly beginning to roll in. She wondered if the man had somewhere to go? Was he performing because he needed to make money? Many of the shops were already closing as the people began to buckle down to prepare for the impending storm.
What if he is not prepared? Oh, that simply would not do. There would be room in her home, where it was warm and there was food to be had. Though it was not kind of Selima to presume he had nowhere to shelter. “I must admire your bravery, keeping the smiles on Judean faces while the clouds are rolling in. But would it not be wiser to return to your family?” Selima’s joints were aching, a warning of how unkind this rain would be. She did not want to see a single Judean be harmed. Surely, if he had nowhere to go, Simeon would not mind if she opened her home as a temporary refuge. It is their duty, is it not?
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Every day Selima prayed for Jeruselum. She would close her eyes and pray for the safety of her people, of her home, and of the souls that visit the Holy City. Lately, however, she had prayed more fervently. Weather was always a fickle thing. Oft unpredictable and at times dangerous, it was never something to toy with. A beautiful day could turn into a famine, a light rain could turn into a flood.
It was the latter that worried Selima. As of late rain had been coming down hard and often. Preparations were being made, should the weather linger longer than normal. Provisions were being kept at home, and houses were being fortified to keep the water out. The city was busy preparing for the impending storm.
So perhaps this was why Selima found it unusual to see a man juggling in the middle of the market as she, like many other Judeans, were busy gathering what was needed to wait out the coming storm. People rushed to and fro with barely a glance at the performer. There was much to prepare, and while the people of Judea were selfless, when it came to the protection of their home and livelihood their vision grew narrow and they become oblivious to the needs of others around them.
But Selima’s vision was clear. She was a woman with a large heart and pure intentions. Having gathered her shopping for the day, she had moved to the young man, dropping some Sugh into his bowl. She watched the performance for a bit, keeping a wary eye of the clouds above. The smile had not left her face, though. The man had talent and a soul that he poured into his art. And while not a practical career, he was no tailor or farmer, it was something that Selima could at least appreciate. He had the ability to bring smiles to other people’s faces. At times, there was no greater gift than that.
When his performance was done Selima gave a clap. Clouds were truly beginning to roll in. She wondered if the man had somewhere to go? Was he performing because he needed to make money? Many of the shops were already closing as the people began to buckle down to prepare for the impending storm.
What if he is not prepared? Oh, that simply would not do. There would be room in her home, where it was warm and there was food to be had. Though it was not kind of Selima to presume he had nowhere to shelter. “I must admire your bravery, keeping the smiles on Judean faces while the clouds are rolling in. But would it not be wiser to return to your family?” Selima’s joints were aching, a warning of how unkind this rain would be. She did not want to see a single Judean be harmed. Surely, if he had nowhere to go, Simeon would not mind if she opened her home as a temporary refuge. It is their duty, is it not?
Every day Selima prayed for Jeruselum. She would close her eyes and pray for the safety of her people, of her home, and of the souls that visit the Holy City. Lately, however, she had prayed more fervently. Weather was always a fickle thing. Oft unpredictable and at times dangerous, it was never something to toy with. A beautiful day could turn into a famine, a light rain could turn into a flood.
It was the latter that worried Selima. As of late rain had been coming down hard and often. Preparations were being made, should the weather linger longer than normal. Provisions were being kept at home, and houses were being fortified to keep the water out. The city was busy preparing for the impending storm.
So perhaps this was why Selima found it unusual to see a man juggling in the middle of the market as she, like many other Judeans, were busy gathering what was needed to wait out the coming storm. People rushed to and fro with barely a glance at the performer. There was much to prepare, and while the people of Judea were selfless, when it came to the protection of their home and livelihood their vision grew narrow and they become oblivious to the needs of others around them.
But Selima’s vision was clear. She was a woman with a large heart and pure intentions. Having gathered her shopping for the day, she had moved to the young man, dropping some Sugh into his bowl. She watched the performance for a bit, keeping a wary eye of the clouds above. The smile had not left her face, though. The man had talent and a soul that he poured into his art. And while not a practical career, he was no tailor or farmer, it was something that Selima could at least appreciate. He had the ability to bring smiles to other people’s faces. At times, there was no greater gift than that.
When his performance was done Selima gave a clap. Clouds were truly beginning to roll in. She wondered if the man had somewhere to go? Was he performing because he needed to make money? Many of the shops were already closing as the people began to buckle down to prepare for the impending storm.
What if he is not prepared? Oh, that simply would not do. There would be room in her home, where it was warm and there was food to be had. Though it was not kind of Selima to presume he had nowhere to shelter. “I must admire your bravery, keeping the smiles on Judean faces while the clouds are rolling in. But would it not be wiser to return to your family?” Selima’s joints were aching, a warning of how unkind this rain would be. She did not want to see a single Judean be harmed. Surely, if he had nowhere to go, Simeon would not mind if she opened her home as a temporary refuge. It is their duty, is it not?
It had been ten months since Yosef died. That was how Zein seemed to measure time now. For so many years, Yosef had been a large part of his life. He had guided Zein during a time when there had been nobody else around. Everyone had either left him or he’d left them, knowing that there was no hope in relying on anyone. Yosef had changed that. Zein learned to trust again and to expand his horizons beyond petty stealing. He started performing, which brought him more than just money. Though, money was in some way everything to a boy that had always had nothing.
The first few months after Yosef’s death had passed by in a blur—Zein not doing much beyond what was necessary for survival. His performances had nearly stopped, except for the few that were used to bring in some coin. When he did perform, there was no joy in it. Zein had mostly resorted to stealing. That was easier. His apathy didn’t care about consequences. It was only an incident that very nearly had him behind bars that changed Zein’s outlet. He could not continue that way, no matter how much he wanted to.
A few months ago, he left the only city he had ever known with a performing troupe. They were still in Israel, but it felt freeing to leave his past behind in Israel. He still felt guilty about leaving his cousin behind, but perhaps he could convince her after sharing stories of his travels. If she knew details of the world that was beyond her home, that might help. In some ways, Zein knew it was useless, but he couldn’t help but want to try. This was Tamar. He couldn’t leave her behind.
Those thoughts were in the back of his mind this on this day as he performed in a corner of a square that might have given him better business otherwise. The weather was turning and Zein had heard talk of an impending storm. There was little he could do but hope that he might earn enough money to take up residence in a stable for the night. The rest of the troupe was hunkered down in tents near the edges of town or some had found an inn to spend their time. They might have performed together, but they did not take care of each other. If Zein were to perish in this storm, the troupe would move on without him. He had to find his own means of shelter.
He’d done it before—worst case he could find some abandoned building to burrow himself inside. Unfortunately, he did not know this city like he knew Israel. There were so many places he could hide there, but here…he did not know. The skies grew darker, the clouds rumbling and finally Zein knew he must admit defeat. Most of the passersby had not spared him a second glance, hurrying about on their way to make sure that they were safe in the storm. Only one woman seemed to be paying him any attention as she clapped at the end of his performance. Zein gave her an appreciative smile as he put away his juggling tools, thinking through his next steps.
There had been a street with some abandoned buildings not too far back—perhaps he might try there. It was then that the woman approached him. Zein heard her question without thinking too much of it. He was performing on the streets—not something any respectable Judean mother would approve of. Did she really believe that he had somewhere to go? He was starting to grow into his manhood, but the sixteen year old was still youthful looking enough to look like he shouldn’t be out alone.
“Thank you for your concern, ma’am,” he said politely, not quite meeting her gaze. “I have no family here, but I’ll be all right.” As soon as he said it, Zein wished he had told her a lie—anything to get her gone so he could find a place to hide. “I’ve been through storms before,” he added, attempting to salvage the conversation to make his escape. He was gonna be just fine.
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It had been ten months since Yosef died. That was how Zein seemed to measure time now. For so many years, Yosef had been a large part of his life. He had guided Zein during a time when there had been nobody else around. Everyone had either left him or he’d left them, knowing that there was no hope in relying on anyone. Yosef had changed that. Zein learned to trust again and to expand his horizons beyond petty stealing. He started performing, which brought him more than just money. Though, money was in some way everything to a boy that had always had nothing.
The first few months after Yosef’s death had passed by in a blur—Zein not doing much beyond what was necessary for survival. His performances had nearly stopped, except for the few that were used to bring in some coin. When he did perform, there was no joy in it. Zein had mostly resorted to stealing. That was easier. His apathy didn’t care about consequences. It was only an incident that very nearly had him behind bars that changed Zein’s outlet. He could not continue that way, no matter how much he wanted to.
A few months ago, he left the only city he had ever known with a performing troupe. They were still in Israel, but it felt freeing to leave his past behind in Israel. He still felt guilty about leaving his cousin behind, but perhaps he could convince her after sharing stories of his travels. If she knew details of the world that was beyond her home, that might help. In some ways, Zein knew it was useless, but he couldn’t help but want to try. This was Tamar. He couldn’t leave her behind.
Those thoughts were in the back of his mind this on this day as he performed in a corner of a square that might have given him better business otherwise. The weather was turning and Zein had heard talk of an impending storm. There was little he could do but hope that he might earn enough money to take up residence in a stable for the night. The rest of the troupe was hunkered down in tents near the edges of town or some had found an inn to spend their time. They might have performed together, but they did not take care of each other. If Zein were to perish in this storm, the troupe would move on without him. He had to find his own means of shelter.
He’d done it before—worst case he could find some abandoned building to burrow himself inside. Unfortunately, he did not know this city like he knew Israel. There were so many places he could hide there, but here…he did not know. The skies grew darker, the clouds rumbling and finally Zein knew he must admit defeat. Most of the passersby had not spared him a second glance, hurrying about on their way to make sure that they were safe in the storm. Only one woman seemed to be paying him any attention as she clapped at the end of his performance. Zein gave her an appreciative smile as he put away his juggling tools, thinking through his next steps.
There had been a street with some abandoned buildings not too far back—perhaps he might try there. It was then that the woman approached him. Zein heard her question without thinking too much of it. He was performing on the streets—not something any respectable Judean mother would approve of. Did she really believe that he had somewhere to go? He was starting to grow into his manhood, but the sixteen year old was still youthful looking enough to look like he shouldn’t be out alone.
“Thank you for your concern, ma’am,” he said politely, not quite meeting her gaze. “I have no family here, but I’ll be all right.” As soon as he said it, Zein wished he had told her a lie—anything to get her gone so he could find a place to hide. “I’ve been through storms before,” he added, attempting to salvage the conversation to make his escape. He was gonna be just fine.
It had been ten months since Yosef died. That was how Zein seemed to measure time now. For so many years, Yosef had been a large part of his life. He had guided Zein during a time when there had been nobody else around. Everyone had either left him or he’d left them, knowing that there was no hope in relying on anyone. Yosef had changed that. Zein learned to trust again and to expand his horizons beyond petty stealing. He started performing, which brought him more than just money. Though, money was in some way everything to a boy that had always had nothing.
The first few months after Yosef’s death had passed by in a blur—Zein not doing much beyond what was necessary for survival. His performances had nearly stopped, except for the few that were used to bring in some coin. When he did perform, there was no joy in it. Zein had mostly resorted to stealing. That was easier. His apathy didn’t care about consequences. It was only an incident that very nearly had him behind bars that changed Zein’s outlet. He could not continue that way, no matter how much he wanted to.
A few months ago, he left the only city he had ever known with a performing troupe. They were still in Israel, but it felt freeing to leave his past behind in Israel. He still felt guilty about leaving his cousin behind, but perhaps he could convince her after sharing stories of his travels. If she knew details of the world that was beyond her home, that might help. In some ways, Zein knew it was useless, but he couldn’t help but want to try. This was Tamar. He couldn’t leave her behind.
Those thoughts were in the back of his mind this on this day as he performed in a corner of a square that might have given him better business otherwise. The weather was turning and Zein had heard talk of an impending storm. There was little he could do but hope that he might earn enough money to take up residence in a stable for the night. The rest of the troupe was hunkered down in tents near the edges of town or some had found an inn to spend their time. They might have performed together, but they did not take care of each other. If Zein were to perish in this storm, the troupe would move on without him. He had to find his own means of shelter.
He’d done it before—worst case he could find some abandoned building to burrow himself inside. Unfortunately, he did not know this city like he knew Israel. There were so many places he could hide there, but here…he did not know. The skies grew darker, the clouds rumbling and finally Zein knew he must admit defeat. Most of the passersby had not spared him a second glance, hurrying about on their way to make sure that they were safe in the storm. Only one woman seemed to be paying him any attention as she clapped at the end of his performance. Zein gave her an appreciative smile as he put away his juggling tools, thinking through his next steps.
There had been a street with some abandoned buildings not too far back—perhaps he might try there. It was then that the woman approached him. Zein heard her question without thinking too much of it. He was performing on the streets—not something any respectable Judean mother would approve of. Did she really believe that he had somewhere to go? He was starting to grow into his manhood, but the sixteen year old was still youthful looking enough to look like he shouldn’t be out alone.
“Thank you for your concern, ma’am,” he said politely, not quite meeting her gaze. “I have no family here, but I’ll be all right.” As soon as he said it, Zein wished he had told her a lie—anything to get her gone so he could find a place to hide. “I’ve been through storms before,” he added, attempting to salvage the conversation to make his escape. He was gonna be just fine.
I have no family. That was all Selima needed to hear. Her heart broke for the boy. Selima could not imagine not having her family. Before she had her husband, she had her parents. Then shortly after marriage came her son and a couple years later her daughter. Selima always had a family, and her family was her world. She would do anything for them without hesitation. And if some tragedy ever took them from her…
Well, this boy was incredibly strong to say the least.
I’ve been through storms before. Clearly he could see Selima’s desire to assist him. She could understand his hesitance. She was a woman, and he was a man. He should be able to handle his own. He shouldn’t need help from a woman. It was women who needed help from men.
But he was also young. He looked to be about his daughter’s age. Selima’s heart broke imagining Davitah, or even Abir, out here alone to weather a storm that could very well be deadly. Selima was sure should his parents be alive (at least she assumed they were dead, for surely no good Judean would abandon their family) they would be weeping for their son. To be so young and to be without any family… what a tragedy Selima could hardly believe existed.
But she also did not want to hurt the young man’s pride. A man’s pride was a delicate thing. Selima very much learned this from Simeon. There were times where it was best to give the man the idea of power, even if was really what you wanted all along. It was deceitful, yes, and sometimes Selima did feel a bit of guilt over it. But if the man felt like they were in control, then it was much easier to make sure things went smoothly. Simeon enjoyed his control, and Selima was happy to allow him to have it even if she had to… prod it at times.
“Oh, I’m sure you have, dear! I would be shocked if this were your first storm. We have at least one every year, after all!” Selima laughed easily, as she heard the thunder begin to roll in. They should hurry should they desire to stay dry. Selima casted a worried look at the sky.
“If it wouldn’t be a bother, might I ask you for assistance?” She gestured towards the sacks of supplies she had bought. “I seemed to have over prepared and I did not quite think straight as to how to safely get this home. I would be happy to pay for your help.” Selima offered him. By the time they arrived at her home and brought everything indoors the storm should begin. She was sure the smell of warm food and the knowledge that her home would be warm, dry and safe would be enough for him to want to shelter with her for the night. And of course for his help Selima would be happy to agree to let him stay.
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I have no family. That was all Selima needed to hear. Her heart broke for the boy. Selima could not imagine not having her family. Before she had her husband, she had her parents. Then shortly after marriage came her son and a couple years later her daughter. Selima always had a family, and her family was her world. She would do anything for them without hesitation. And if some tragedy ever took them from her…
Well, this boy was incredibly strong to say the least.
I’ve been through storms before. Clearly he could see Selima’s desire to assist him. She could understand his hesitance. She was a woman, and he was a man. He should be able to handle his own. He shouldn’t need help from a woman. It was women who needed help from men.
But he was also young. He looked to be about his daughter’s age. Selima’s heart broke imagining Davitah, or even Abir, out here alone to weather a storm that could very well be deadly. Selima was sure should his parents be alive (at least she assumed they were dead, for surely no good Judean would abandon their family) they would be weeping for their son. To be so young and to be without any family… what a tragedy Selima could hardly believe existed.
But she also did not want to hurt the young man’s pride. A man’s pride was a delicate thing. Selima very much learned this from Simeon. There were times where it was best to give the man the idea of power, even if was really what you wanted all along. It was deceitful, yes, and sometimes Selima did feel a bit of guilt over it. But if the man felt like they were in control, then it was much easier to make sure things went smoothly. Simeon enjoyed his control, and Selima was happy to allow him to have it even if she had to… prod it at times.
“Oh, I’m sure you have, dear! I would be shocked if this were your first storm. We have at least one every year, after all!” Selima laughed easily, as she heard the thunder begin to roll in. They should hurry should they desire to stay dry. Selima casted a worried look at the sky.
“If it wouldn’t be a bother, might I ask you for assistance?” She gestured towards the sacks of supplies she had bought. “I seemed to have over prepared and I did not quite think straight as to how to safely get this home. I would be happy to pay for your help.” Selima offered him. By the time they arrived at her home and brought everything indoors the storm should begin. She was sure the smell of warm food and the knowledge that her home would be warm, dry and safe would be enough for him to want to shelter with her for the night. And of course for his help Selima would be happy to agree to let him stay.
I have no family. That was all Selima needed to hear. Her heart broke for the boy. Selima could not imagine not having her family. Before she had her husband, she had her parents. Then shortly after marriage came her son and a couple years later her daughter. Selima always had a family, and her family was her world. She would do anything for them without hesitation. And if some tragedy ever took them from her…
Well, this boy was incredibly strong to say the least.
I’ve been through storms before. Clearly he could see Selima’s desire to assist him. She could understand his hesitance. She was a woman, and he was a man. He should be able to handle his own. He shouldn’t need help from a woman. It was women who needed help from men.
But he was also young. He looked to be about his daughter’s age. Selima’s heart broke imagining Davitah, or even Abir, out here alone to weather a storm that could very well be deadly. Selima was sure should his parents be alive (at least she assumed they were dead, for surely no good Judean would abandon their family) they would be weeping for their son. To be so young and to be without any family… what a tragedy Selima could hardly believe existed.
But she also did not want to hurt the young man’s pride. A man’s pride was a delicate thing. Selima very much learned this from Simeon. There were times where it was best to give the man the idea of power, even if was really what you wanted all along. It was deceitful, yes, and sometimes Selima did feel a bit of guilt over it. But if the man felt like they were in control, then it was much easier to make sure things went smoothly. Simeon enjoyed his control, and Selima was happy to allow him to have it even if she had to… prod it at times.
“Oh, I’m sure you have, dear! I would be shocked if this were your first storm. We have at least one every year, after all!” Selima laughed easily, as she heard the thunder begin to roll in. They should hurry should they desire to stay dry. Selima casted a worried look at the sky.
“If it wouldn’t be a bother, might I ask you for assistance?” She gestured towards the sacks of supplies she had bought. “I seemed to have over prepared and I did not quite think straight as to how to safely get this home. I would be happy to pay for your help.” Selima offered him. By the time they arrived at her home and brought everything indoors the storm should begin. She was sure the smell of warm food and the knowledge that her home would be warm, dry and safe would be enough for him to want to shelter with her for the night. And of course for his help Selima would be happy to agree to let him stay.
The longer this woman hovered, the more Zein was suspicious. He knew she might be trying to get him to agree to something he didn’t want to do. He didn’t want any pity or any handouts. What he got, he earned. Just because nobody wanted to stop to watch him perform on an afternoon like this one wasn’t his fault. All he could do was plan ahead next time. Always make sure he had just enough coin for a situation like this. Her placating him kept Zein more suspicious, but as much as he wasn’t looking for a handout, he was looking for any opportunity that would help his situation. Perhaps she would give him more money so he could find a room. Yes, that would be ideal. He didn’t really think about inns closing up to prepare for the storm, but he was sure that there would be at least one open.
Oh, she was good, he thought, looking over to the supplies she pointed to. There was enough to slow her down, but not terribly so. Zein understood that she was pitying him, but he was also not dumb enough to turn down an offer that probably meant the difference between him sleeping in an abandoned building or in a warm inn. That was, if he could even find an abandoned building. He did not know this city well at all and after a few months of traveling, he was losing his careful street smart touch. The first thing he should have done was scope out a building he could hide in during a worst case scenario. He knew better. Yet, a few months of always having a tent to sleep in had made him lazy. This was a lesson Zein would not soon forget. Next time, he would be better prepared.
For now, however, it seemed he almost had no choice. He didn’t believe that this woman was “saving” him, but she was providing assistance whether or not he cared to like it. Knowing that he could be charming when need be, Zein put on a smile and said, “I would be happy to help you, ma’am. I can carry your things and follow you to your home.” And he would keep a good eye out for a hiding place on the way, just in case.
Zein followed her over to her belongings, laying down his juggling case and putting her bags on top so that he could more easily carry everything. When he had everything he stood up and indicated to the woman that he was ready to follow her. Thunder rumbled above them again and Zein thought he saw a flash of lightening. He only hoped that she didn’t live too far. Or that they would pass some place he could stay in along the way. As the winded through the residential roads, he lost hope that he might find an inn, but perhaps there would be an abandoned building…However, she seemed to live in a nicer area of town. There would be no abandoned buildings here. Zein subtly increased his pace, hoping they would reach their destination quickly. He now had a lot of ground to make up. Why had he been so stupid to do something for some quick money?
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The longer this woman hovered, the more Zein was suspicious. He knew she might be trying to get him to agree to something he didn’t want to do. He didn’t want any pity or any handouts. What he got, he earned. Just because nobody wanted to stop to watch him perform on an afternoon like this one wasn’t his fault. All he could do was plan ahead next time. Always make sure he had just enough coin for a situation like this. Her placating him kept Zein more suspicious, but as much as he wasn’t looking for a handout, he was looking for any opportunity that would help his situation. Perhaps she would give him more money so he could find a room. Yes, that would be ideal. He didn’t really think about inns closing up to prepare for the storm, but he was sure that there would be at least one open.
Oh, she was good, he thought, looking over to the supplies she pointed to. There was enough to slow her down, but not terribly so. Zein understood that she was pitying him, but he was also not dumb enough to turn down an offer that probably meant the difference between him sleeping in an abandoned building or in a warm inn. That was, if he could even find an abandoned building. He did not know this city well at all and after a few months of traveling, he was losing his careful street smart touch. The first thing he should have done was scope out a building he could hide in during a worst case scenario. He knew better. Yet, a few months of always having a tent to sleep in had made him lazy. This was a lesson Zein would not soon forget. Next time, he would be better prepared.
For now, however, it seemed he almost had no choice. He didn’t believe that this woman was “saving” him, but she was providing assistance whether or not he cared to like it. Knowing that he could be charming when need be, Zein put on a smile and said, “I would be happy to help you, ma’am. I can carry your things and follow you to your home.” And he would keep a good eye out for a hiding place on the way, just in case.
Zein followed her over to her belongings, laying down his juggling case and putting her bags on top so that he could more easily carry everything. When he had everything he stood up and indicated to the woman that he was ready to follow her. Thunder rumbled above them again and Zein thought he saw a flash of lightening. He only hoped that she didn’t live too far. Or that they would pass some place he could stay in along the way. As the winded through the residential roads, he lost hope that he might find an inn, but perhaps there would be an abandoned building…However, she seemed to live in a nicer area of town. There would be no abandoned buildings here. Zein subtly increased his pace, hoping they would reach their destination quickly. He now had a lot of ground to make up. Why had he been so stupid to do something for some quick money?
The longer this woman hovered, the more Zein was suspicious. He knew she might be trying to get him to agree to something he didn’t want to do. He didn’t want any pity or any handouts. What he got, he earned. Just because nobody wanted to stop to watch him perform on an afternoon like this one wasn’t his fault. All he could do was plan ahead next time. Always make sure he had just enough coin for a situation like this. Her placating him kept Zein more suspicious, but as much as he wasn’t looking for a handout, he was looking for any opportunity that would help his situation. Perhaps she would give him more money so he could find a room. Yes, that would be ideal. He didn’t really think about inns closing up to prepare for the storm, but he was sure that there would be at least one open.
Oh, she was good, he thought, looking over to the supplies she pointed to. There was enough to slow her down, but not terribly so. Zein understood that she was pitying him, but he was also not dumb enough to turn down an offer that probably meant the difference between him sleeping in an abandoned building or in a warm inn. That was, if he could even find an abandoned building. He did not know this city well at all and after a few months of traveling, he was losing his careful street smart touch. The first thing he should have done was scope out a building he could hide in during a worst case scenario. He knew better. Yet, a few months of always having a tent to sleep in had made him lazy. This was a lesson Zein would not soon forget. Next time, he would be better prepared.
For now, however, it seemed he almost had no choice. He didn’t believe that this woman was “saving” him, but she was providing assistance whether or not he cared to like it. Knowing that he could be charming when need be, Zein put on a smile and said, “I would be happy to help you, ma’am. I can carry your things and follow you to your home.” And he would keep a good eye out for a hiding place on the way, just in case.
Zein followed her over to her belongings, laying down his juggling case and putting her bags on top so that he could more easily carry everything. When he had everything he stood up and indicated to the woman that he was ready to follow her. Thunder rumbled above them again and Zein thought he saw a flash of lightening. He only hoped that she didn’t live too far. Or that they would pass some place he could stay in along the way. As the winded through the residential roads, he lost hope that he might find an inn, but perhaps there would be an abandoned building…However, she seemed to live in a nicer area of town. There would be no abandoned buildings here. Zein subtly increased his pace, hoping they would reach their destination quickly. He now had a lot of ground to make up. Why had he been so stupid to do something for some quick money?
Oh good! Selima was at first worried that he would get insulted. She didn’t know how hidden her ruse was. Clearly, if he noticed, he didn’t mind, and that was all that mattered, right? Selima thanked him with a wide smile as she led him towards her home.
“My husband, Simeon, is out of town, you see. He would normally carry the supplies home. And my son, Abir, is off making sure the citizens all have a roof over their head.” The City Protectors were not a group she originally wanted Abir joining. She did not like the idea of violence, and the fact that they were armed did not sit well with her. But Selima could not deny that they did wonderful things for the city, including protecting its people. They kept the peace… even if it meant her young son could be put in danger. Selima just hoped he would be home before the storm really got ugly.
Speaking of the storm, Selima finally felt the raindrops fall from the sky. She picked up the pace, and before long, it was coming down hard. “Hurry, in you go!” Selima ushered the boy through the door, pushing against the wind until it was closed firmly. Selima shivered, now utterly soaked from the storm.
Her eyes glanced over at him. The poor thing must be cold. “Well, you certainly can’t be going out in that,” Selima tsked as she gestured to set the bags on the table. “Davitah, dear,” she called through the house. “Come store the supplies!”
The smile returned to her face as she looked at her guest. “Have a seat. I’ll fetch you a blanket. You must be cold.” Selima would offer Abir’s clothing, but she was afraid it wouldn’t fit quite right. Besides, she didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. He was already in a stranger’s household. “Just one moment.”
Selima disappeared into the house and fetched one of the blankets before returning to the man. “Here you are. I’m so sorry. I mistimed the storm.” Selima handed him the warm blanket. She had made it herself during a particularly cold winter. It was fun and allowed her mind to wander. It was fortunate that it was coming in handy again.
Was he upset with her? She had hoped not. It was a tad underhanded what she did, and that made her feel guilty. It was also presumptuous that he did not have a better place to stay. But she had seen others suffer for the sake of their pride before. It was foolish of them in Selima’s opinion, but pride had a way of blinding people.
“Oh! The money!” Selima said after a moment. “One moment.” She went to her coin purse, pulling out a generous amount of coin. This was something that she knew her husband would not mind. He often gave to those who needed it so that they might find themselves back on the righteous path. “For your trouble and your inconvenience.” She dropped the money into his hand. “I believe I saw some warm water. Would you like a cup of tea?”
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Oh good! Selima was at first worried that he would get insulted. She didn’t know how hidden her ruse was. Clearly, if he noticed, he didn’t mind, and that was all that mattered, right? Selima thanked him with a wide smile as she led him towards her home.
“My husband, Simeon, is out of town, you see. He would normally carry the supplies home. And my son, Abir, is off making sure the citizens all have a roof over their head.” The City Protectors were not a group she originally wanted Abir joining. She did not like the idea of violence, and the fact that they were armed did not sit well with her. But Selima could not deny that they did wonderful things for the city, including protecting its people. They kept the peace… even if it meant her young son could be put in danger. Selima just hoped he would be home before the storm really got ugly.
Speaking of the storm, Selima finally felt the raindrops fall from the sky. She picked up the pace, and before long, it was coming down hard. “Hurry, in you go!” Selima ushered the boy through the door, pushing against the wind until it was closed firmly. Selima shivered, now utterly soaked from the storm.
Her eyes glanced over at him. The poor thing must be cold. “Well, you certainly can’t be going out in that,” Selima tsked as she gestured to set the bags on the table. “Davitah, dear,” she called through the house. “Come store the supplies!”
The smile returned to her face as she looked at her guest. “Have a seat. I’ll fetch you a blanket. You must be cold.” Selima would offer Abir’s clothing, but she was afraid it wouldn’t fit quite right. Besides, she didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. He was already in a stranger’s household. “Just one moment.”
Selima disappeared into the house and fetched one of the blankets before returning to the man. “Here you are. I’m so sorry. I mistimed the storm.” Selima handed him the warm blanket. She had made it herself during a particularly cold winter. It was fun and allowed her mind to wander. It was fortunate that it was coming in handy again.
Was he upset with her? She had hoped not. It was a tad underhanded what she did, and that made her feel guilty. It was also presumptuous that he did not have a better place to stay. But she had seen others suffer for the sake of their pride before. It was foolish of them in Selima’s opinion, but pride had a way of blinding people.
“Oh! The money!” Selima said after a moment. “One moment.” She went to her coin purse, pulling out a generous amount of coin. This was something that she knew her husband would not mind. He often gave to those who needed it so that they might find themselves back on the righteous path. “For your trouble and your inconvenience.” She dropped the money into his hand. “I believe I saw some warm water. Would you like a cup of tea?”
Oh good! Selima was at first worried that he would get insulted. She didn’t know how hidden her ruse was. Clearly, if he noticed, he didn’t mind, and that was all that mattered, right? Selima thanked him with a wide smile as she led him towards her home.
“My husband, Simeon, is out of town, you see. He would normally carry the supplies home. And my son, Abir, is off making sure the citizens all have a roof over their head.” The City Protectors were not a group she originally wanted Abir joining. She did not like the idea of violence, and the fact that they were armed did not sit well with her. But Selima could not deny that they did wonderful things for the city, including protecting its people. They kept the peace… even if it meant her young son could be put in danger. Selima just hoped he would be home before the storm really got ugly.
Speaking of the storm, Selima finally felt the raindrops fall from the sky. She picked up the pace, and before long, it was coming down hard. “Hurry, in you go!” Selima ushered the boy through the door, pushing against the wind until it was closed firmly. Selima shivered, now utterly soaked from the storm.
Her eyes glanced over at him. The poor thing must be cold. “Well, you certainly can’t be going out in that,” Selima tsked as she gestured to set the bags on the table. “Davitah, dear,” she called through the house. “Come store the supplies!”
The smile returned to her face as she looked at her guest. “Have a seat. I’ll fetch you a blanket. You must be cold.” Selima would offer Abir’s clothing, but she was afraid it wouldn’t fit quite right. Besides, she didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. He was already in a stranger’s household. “Just one moment.”
Selima disappeared into the house and fetched one of the blankets before returning to the man. “Here you are. I’m so sorry. I mistimed the storm.” Selima handed him the warm blanket. She had made it herself during a particularly cold winter. It was fun and allowed her mind to wander. It was fortunate that it was coming in handy again.
Was he upset with her? She had hoped not. It was a tad underhanded what she did, and that made her feel guilty. It was also presumptuous that he did not have a better place to stay. But she had seen others suffer for the sake of their pride before. It was foolish of them in Selima’s opinion, but pride had a way of blinding people.
“Oh! The money!” Selima said after a moment. “One moment.” She went to her coin purse, pulling out a generous amount of coin. This was something that she knew her husband would not mind. He often gave to those who needed it so that they might find themselves back on the righteous path. “For your trouble and your inconvenience.” She dropped the money into his hand. “I believe I saw some warm water. Would you like a cup of tea?”
Zein only half listened to what she was saying about why she didn’t have help carrying everything. How nice it must be to have a family that was willing to help with things. Wasn’t that some kind of dream? Well, Zein sort of had a family…he had blood relatives. And those relatives had turned him away while he was still a boy. Technically, he supposed he had run away, but he was sure he would have been turned out at some point. Just like his mother had. Her parents hadn’t even given her any help for a new life on the streets. What sort of family was that? How could they call themselves true believers in God if that was one of the least godly things they could do? Wasn’t their God supposed to be kind?
Well, Zein didn’t believe in any of that stuff. He had seen and experienced too much to believe that there was some sort of higher power. Even if there was, it had never looked out for him, that was for sure. Of course, if he was in the arguing sort of mood, he could say that this was an intervention if he had ever seen one. Clearly this woman had an ulterior motive of also getting him into some safety and as much as Zein wanted to admit otherwise, he was in a spot of trouble. He probably wouldn’t have found a very safe shelter in time. Judging by the massive raindrops that were beginning to fall, it was going to be a nasty storm.
In a matter of minutes, he was soaked through, even though they reached her home not long after. If that was the beginning of the storm, he didn’t even want to think about the rest. Though, he supposed after he helped her put this basket away, he would have to be on his way again. This woman was a talker—Zein wondered if he made her nervous or if she always talked this much. She moved about, saying a dozen things, as he stood there in silence, dripping slightly. He tried not to move too much so as not to get everywhere wet. That wouldn’t be polite, he supposed. His uncle would have beat him for doing such a thing.
It was hard not to fall into old habits when being back in a Judean home. Although Zein had left his aunt and uncle’s home nearly a decade ago, he still remembered the harsh rules and even harsher punishments that would follow if he broke any of them. This woman seemed kind enough, but his aunt had been the same. It was his uncle that had been harsh. Zein was grateful to hear that her husband was away. Hopefully he would not come back in the midst of the storm. Though, he supposed her son might not look too kindly upon him when he returned. If he was a city protector, he might think Zein was some kind of threat. They usually did in the cities. Zein would never hurt anyone. He was too busy trying to get their money.
Speaking of money, the woman was rushing about to try and pay him now. Zein shrugged the blanket around him , settling in on the bench she had made him sit upon. He didn’t really know what to do, but wasn’t exactly excited about the prospect of going back out into the storm. He could hear the rain rattling the roof now. It had to be quite a sight outside. The coin would be nice, but what inn would even have it’s doors open now? Likely only ones that were far away, down by the docks, ready to take in stragglers. It would take Zein a long time to get there.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Zein finally replied once she plopped some coin in his hands. It was far too much, but he wasn’t about to say no. By the looks of her home, she wouldn’t miss the coin. Anything warm sounded good to him as he was starting to shiver, but he couldn’t intrude any longer.
“Thank you, but I should be going,” he said, standing. “I appreciate your kindness, but I must find somewhere to stay for the night. The inns will be closing soon.” A clap of thunder hit from overhead, making Zein quiver slightly. Oh, he did not envy her son out in such weather.
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Zein only half listened to what she was saying about why she didn’t have help carrying everything. How nice it must be to have a family that was willing to help with things. Wasn’t that some kind of dream? Well, Zein sort of had a family…he had blood relatives. And those relatives had turned him away while he was still a boy. Technically, he supposed he had run away, but he was sure he would have been turned out at some point. Just like his mother had. Her parents hadn’t even given her any help for a new life on the streets. What sort of family was that? How could they call themselves true believers in God if that was one of the least godly things they could do? Wasn’t their God supposed to be kind?
Well, Zein didn’t believe in any of that stuff. He had seen and experienced too much to believe that there was some sort of higher power. Even if there was, it had never looked out for him, that was for sure. Of course, if he was in the arguing sort of mood, he could say that this was an intervention if he had ever seen one. Clearly this woman had an ulterior motive of also getting him into some safety and as much as Zein wanted to admit otherwise, he was in a spot of trouble. He probably wouldn’t have found a very safe shelter in time. Judging by the massive raindrops that were beginning to fall, it was going to be a nasty storm.
In a matter of minutes, he was soaked through, even though they reached her home not long after. If that was the beginning of the storm, he didn’t even want to think about the rest. Though, he supposed after he helped her put this basket away, he would have to be on his way again. This woman was a talker—Zein wondered if he made her nervous or if she always talked this much. She moved about, saying a dozen things, as he stood there in silence, dripping slightly. He tried not to move too much so as not to get everywhere wet. That wouldn’t be polite, he supposed. His uncle would have beat him for doing such a thing.
It was hard not to fall into old habits when being back in a Judean home. Although Zein had left his aunt and uncle’s home nearly a decade ago, he still remembered the harsh rules and even harsher punishments that would follow if he broke any of them. This woman seemed kind enough, but his aunt had been the same. It was his uncle that had been harsh. Zein was grateful to hear that her husband was away. Hopefully he would not come back in the midst of the storm. Though, he supposed her son might not look too kindly upon him when he returned. If he was a city protector, he might think Zein was some kind of threat. They usually did in the cities. Zein would never hurt anyone. He was too busy trying to get their money.
Speaking of money, the woman was rushing about to try and pay him now. Zein shrugged the blanket around him , settling in on the bench she had made him sit upon. He didn’t really know what to do, but wasn’t exactly excited about the prospect of going back out into the storm. He could hear the rain rattling the roof now. It had to be quite a sight outside. The coin would be nice, but what inn would even have it’s doors open now? Likely only ones that were far away, down by the docks, ready to take in stragglers. It would take Zein a long time to get there.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Zein finally replied once she plopped some coin in his hands. It was far too much, but he wasn’t about to say no. By the looks of her home, she wouldn’t miss the coin. Anything warm sounded good to him as he was starting to shiver, but he couldn’t intrude any longer.
“Thank you, but I should be going,” he said, standing. “I appreciate your kindness, but I must find somewhere to stay for the night. The inns will be closing soon.” A clap of thunder hit from overhead, making Zein quiver slightly. Oh, he did not envy her son out in such weather.
Zein only half listened to what she was saying about why she didn’t have help carrying everything. How nice it must be to have a family that was willing to help with things. Wasn’t that some kind of dream? Well, Zein sort of had a family…he had blood relatives. And those relatives had turned him away while he was still a boy. Technically, he supposed he had run away, but he was sure he would have been turned out at some point. Just like his mother had. Her parents hadn’t even given her any help for a new life on the streets. What sort of family was that? How could they call themselves true believers in God if that was one of the least godly things they could do? Wasn’t their God supposed to be kind?
Well, Zein didn’t believe in any of that stuff. He had seen and experienced too much to believe that there was some sort of higher power. Even if there was, it had never looked out for him, that was for sure. Of course, if he was in the arguing sort of mood, he could say that this was an intervention if he had ever seen one. Clearly this woman had an ulterior motive of also getting him into some safety and as much as Zein wanted to admit otherwise, he was in a spot of trouble. He probably wouldn’t have found a very safe shelter in time. Judging by the massive raindrops that were beginning to fall, it was going to be a nasty storm.
In a matter of minutes, he was soaked through, even though they reached her home not long after. If that was the beginning of the storm, he didn’t even want to think about the rest. Though, he supposed after he helped her put this basket away, he would have to be on his way again. This woman was a talker—Zein wondered if he made her nervous or if she always talked this much. She moved about, saying a dozen things, as he stood there in silence, dripping slightly. He tried not to move too much so as not to get everywhere wet. That wouldn’t be polite, he supposed. His uncle would have beat him for doing such a thing.
It was hard not to fall into old habits when being back in a Judean home. Although Zein had left his aunt and uncle’s home nearly a decade ago, he still remembered the harsh rules and even harsher punishments that would follow if he broke any of them. This woman seemed kind enough, but his aunt had been the same. It was his uncle that had been harsh. Zein was grateful to hear that her husband was away. Hopefully he would not come back in the midst of the storm. Though, he supposed her son might not look too kindly upon him when he returned. If he was a city protector, he might think Zein was some kind of threat. They usually did in the cities. Zein would never hurt anyone. He was too busy trying to get their money.
Speaking of money, the woman was rushing about to try and pay him now. Zein shrugged the blanket around him , settling in on the bench she had made him sit upon. He didn’t really know what to do, but wasn’t exactly excited about the prospect of going back out into the storm. He could hear the rain rattling the roof now. It had to be quite a sight outside. The coin would be nice, but what inn would even have it’s doors open now? Likely only ones that were far away, down by the docks, ready to take in stragglers. It would take Zein a long time to get there.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Zein finally replied once she plopped some coin in his hands. It was far too much, but he wasn’t about to say no. By the looks of her home, she wouldn’t miss the coin. Anything warm sounded good to him as he was starting to shiver, but he couldn’t intrude any longer.
“Thank you, but I should be going,” he said, standing. “I appreciate your kindness, but I must find somewhere to stay for the night. The inns will be closing soon.” A clap of thunder hit from overhead, making Zein quiver slightly. Oh, he did not envy her son out in such weather.
The boy seemed to be very polite. Whoever raised him had raised him well. It seemed the older Selima got, the more she noticed that people around his age are different from when Selima was their age. Children were being raised with fewer manners than when Selima grew up- though perhaps that was just her parents that expected perfection from her. But he thanked her, helped her, and was quiet and respectful the entire time.
Though he did seem to itch to get out of there. Was it a matter of pride? Or did Selima come off too forward? She didn’t want to scare the boy. But when she saw him, juggling instead of rushing to prepare like every other Judean, it broke her heart. The thought that this was someone’s child trying to make money in the midst of a terrible, horrible storm.
And even now, wanting to go out there and brave the strong winds and rains was absolute insanity to Selima. The only inns that would be open would be by the docks to help the stragglers. The docks were nowhere near her home, and it would be very dangerous to go out there. People would die in this storm. Selima wasn’t like her husband or son. She wasn’t strong enough to go out there, to help those who most needed it. But this one person she could help. Selima couldn’t just turn a blind eye- she wouldn’t.
“Don’t be silly, dear. It’s dangerous. Save your coin and stay here- at least until the rain becomes a drizzle. The winds would take you out, and it is so dark out there I doubt you’d be able to see your hand in front of your face. I’m sorry for having wasted your time and kept you from finding an inn. Let me rectify that mistake by at least offering my home for the time being.”
Another clap of thunder caused Selima to jump. Her eyes went to the windows that had been boarded up prior by Simeon and Abir. She prayed the two of them were safe out there. The thought of losing them was too hard to bear. But she shouldn’t think of that right now. She should keep her mind busy, and that meant taking care of the people in this house- Davitah and this man.
“I cannot force you to do anything, but I do hope you stay. It is of no inconvenience to me.” Selima smiled at him. “I’ll make some tea.”
She went off to the kitchen and took the pot of warm water that hung over the fire. She hurriedly prepared the tea, giving the boy time to make his decision as to whether he wanted to stay or go. Davitah had just finished storing the supplies. Selima offered a cup to her darling daughter.
“He helped me carry the supplies home, my beloved.” She offered her daughter as a way to explain the stranger in their home. “I can’t in good conscious send him out knowing he may not survive.” Selima would have done the same whether it was an elderly man, a pregnant woman, even a foreigner- though the latter would likely have gotten a furious Simeon. Selima smoothed down her daughter’s hair. “Why don’t you go give him some extra pillows and blankets so that he has somewhere to sleep until the rain lightens? I doubt we will see your brother or father here tonight.” Likely by now, the weather has gotten so awful they were sheltered elsewhere.At least… Simeon would be.
Davitah left to do that, and Selima made the cups of teas. She left one for her daughter and made two for herself and the stranger. She returned back to the living area, hoping he had remained. It would be, after all, the wise decision.
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The boy seemed to be very polite. Whoever raised him had raised him well. It seemed the older Selima got, the more she noticed that people around his age are different from when Selima was their age. Children were being raised with fewer manners than when Selima grew up- though perhaps that was just her parents that expected perfection from her. But he thanked her, helped her, and was quiet and respectful the entire time.
Though he did seem to itch to get out of there. Was it a matter of pride? Or did Selima come off too forward? She didn’t want to scare the boy. But when she saw him, juggling instead of rushing to prepare like every other Judean, it broke her heart. The thought that this was someone’s child trying to make money in the midst of a terrible, horrible storm.
And even now, wanting to go out there and brave the strong winds and rains was absolute insanity to Selima. The only inns that would be open would be by the docks to help the stragglers. The docks were nowhere near her home, and it would be very dangerous to go out there. People would die in this storm. Selima wasn’t like her husband or son. She wasn’t strong enough to go out there, to help those who most needed it. But this one person she could help. Selima couldn’t just turn a blind eye- she wouldn’t.
“Don’t be silly, dear. It’s dangerous. Save your coin and stay here- at least until the rain becomes a drizzle. The winds would take you out, and it is so dark out there I doubt you’d be able to see your hand in front of your face. I’m sorry for having wasted your time and kept you from finding an inn. Let me rectify that mistake by at least offering my home for the time being.”
Another clap of thunder caused Selima to jump. Her eyes went to the windows that had been boarded up prior by Simeon and Abir. She prayed the two of them were safe out there. The thought of losing them was too hard to bear. But she shouldn’t think of that right now. She should keep her mind busy, and that meant taking care of the people in this house- Davitah and this man.
“I cannot force you to do anything, but I do hope you stay. It is of no inconvenience to me.” Selima smiled at him. “I’ll make some tea.”
She went off to the kitchen and took the pot of warm water that hung over the fire. She hurriedly prepared the tea, giving the boy time to make his decision as to whether he wanted to stay or go. Davitah had just finished storing the supplies. Selima offered a cup to her darling daughter.
“He helped me carry the supplies home, my beloved.” She offered her daughter as a way to explain the stranger in their home. “I can’t in good conscious send him out knowing he may not survive.” Selima would have done the same whether it was an elderly man, a pregnant woman, even a foreigner- though the latter would likely have gotten a furious Simeon. Selima smoothed down her daughter’s hair. “Why don’t you go give him some extra pillows and blankets so that he has somewhere to sleep until the rain lightens? I doubt we will see your brother or father here tonight.” Likely by now, the weather has gotten so awful they were sheltered elsewhere.At least… Simeon would be.
Davitah left to do that, and Selima made the cups of teas. She left one for her daughter and made two for herself and the stranger. She returned back to the living area, hoping he had remained. It would be, after all, the wise decision.
The boy seemed to be very polite. Whoever raised him had raised him well. It seemed the older Selima got, the more she noticed that people around his age are different from when Selima was their age. Children were being raised with fewer manners than when Selima grew up- though perhaps that was just her parents that expected perfection from her. But he thanked her, helped her, and was quiet and respectful the entire time.
Though he did seem to itch to get out of there. Was it a matter of pride? Or did Selima come off too forward? She didn’t want to scare the boy. But when she saw him, juggling instead of rushing to prepare like every other Judean, it broke her heart. The thought that this was someone’s child trying to make money in the midst of a terrible, horrible storm.
And even now, wanting to go out there and brave the strong winds and rains was absolute insanity to Selima. The only inns that would be open would be by the docks to help the stragglers. The docks were nowhere near her home, and it would be very dangerous to go out there. People would die in this storm. Selima wasn’t like her husband or son. She wasn’t strong enough to go out there, to help those who most needed it. But this one person she could help. Selima couldn’t just turn a blind eye- she wouldn’t.
“Don’t be silly, dear. It’s dangerous. Save your coin and stay here- at least until the rain becomes a drizzle. The winds would take you out, and it is so dark out there I doubt you’d be able to see your hand in front of your face. I’m sorry for having wasted your time and kept you from finding an inn. Let me rectify that mistake by at least offering my home for the time being.”
Another clap of thunder caused Selima to jump. Her eyes went to the windows that had been boarded up prior by Simeon and Abir. She prayed the two of them were safe out there. The thought of losing them was too hard to bear. But she shouldn’t think of that right now. She should keep her mind busy, and that meant taking care of the people in this house- Davitah and this man.
“I cannot force you to do anything, but I do hope you stay. It is of no inconvenience to me.” Selima smiled at him. “I’ll make some tea.”
She went off to the kitchen and took the pot of warm water that hung over the fire. She hurriedly prepared the tea, giving the boy time to make his decision as to whether he wanted to stay or go. Davitah had just finished storing the supplies. Selima offered a cup to her darling daughter.
“He helped me carry the supplies home, my beloved.” She offered her daughter as a way to explain the stranger in their home. “I can’t in good conscious send him out knowing he may not survive.” Selima would have done the same whether it was an elderly man, a pregnant woman, even a foreigner- though the latter would likely have gotten a furious Simeon. Selima smoothed down her daughter’s hair. “Why don’t you go give him some extra pillows and blankets so that he has somewhere to sleep until the rain lightens? I doubt we will see your brother or father here tonight.” Likely by now, the weather has gotten so awful they were sheltered elsewhere.At least… Simeon would be.
Davitah left to do that, and Selima made the cups of teas. She left one for her daughter and made two for herself and the stranger. She returned back to the living area, hoping he had remained. It would be, after all, the wise decision.
Her invitation was so tempting, but Zein hadn’t stayed in a proper Judean home in years. In fact, he had intended to never stay in one again. They weren’t meant for the likes of him. Yet, her words were logical and he knew the storm would be a dangerous one. It had been a long time since Zein had seen a storm like this and he knew the devastating effects that were likely to occur. To be caught outside in an unfamiliar city would be akin to a death sentence. Or at least, he risked injury. Zein certainly couldn’t afford that.
Zein didn’t bother to correct this woman when she believed that he wasted his time in helping her. Truthfully, he needed to help her to get the promised coin she offered in order to stay at an inn. He just didn’t want to admit all of that to her and decided suddenly that it was probably easiest just to say yes to her offer of her home. It wasn’t as if this storm was going to last forever. He would be able to get out just as soon as the worst of it was done. Besides, she was right. It was dark and he would be unable to make his way anywhere right now. Zein supposed he just ought to be grateful that this woman’s husband wasn’t here to kick him out. For he was sure that would happen. Judean men never seemed to care for him much.
He bowed his head in thanks and said, “I thank you for your kind offer.” He was being overly polite, but the fact that he was in this household reminded him of his own stay with his aunt’s family. Apparently, the fear of being beaten was still strong within him, even though this was a different situation. Still, the last thing Zein wanted to do was offend if he truly was going to be here for some hours.
The woman disappeared to make some tea and Zein took the opportunity to sit down. He was tired, having been out performing early so as to make enough coin before the storm. It hadn’t worked, of course, but that didn’t lessen the effects of juggling for so many hours. And he hadn’t eaten all day either. He wondered if this woman in her spurt of kindness might consider sharing some food? For he wasn’t going to get some anywhere else. Of course, if not, Zein had endured worse hungry nights before. He would survive until morning, he was sure. Though now that he had thought of a belly full of food, his stomach seemed to rumble loudly in anticipation.
To his embarrassment, it made quite a loud noise, just as the woman stepped back into the room. Quickly, Zein was back on his feet, not wanting to seem like he was making himself too comfortable in her home. As nice as she was, surely she wouldn’t like the thought of him acting too familiar here.
“Thank you for your offer,” he said, attempting to cover up the continuous rumbling of his stomach. There was no stopping it now. Zein felt his cheeks redden slightly in embarrassment. He never really cared what he looked like to other people, but there had never really been anyone around to impress. Yosef understood him, having lived most of his life on the street and Tamar loved him because he was family. Even within his performing troupe, he kept mostly to himself, worried about being an embarrassment. This was the first time he had been in front of others in a long time, truly.
Keeping his head down, he continued, “I would like to accept if you are sure it is all right.”
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Her invitation was so tempting, but Zein hadn’t stayed in a proper Judean home in years. In fact, he had intended to never stay in one again. They weren’t meant for the likes of him. Yet, her words were logical and he knew the storm would be a dangerous one. It had been a long time since Zein had seen a storm like this and he knew the devastating effects that were likely to occur. To be caught outside in an unfamiliar city would be akin to a death sentence. Or at least, he risked injury. Zein certainly couldn’t afford that.
Zein didn’t bother to correct this woman when she believed that he wasted his time in helping her. Truthfully, he needed to help her to get the promised coin she offered in order to stay at an inn. He just didn’t want to admit all of that to her and decided suddenly that it was probably easiest just to say yes to her offer of her home. It wasn’t as if this storm was going to last forever. He would be able to get out just as soon as the worst of it was done. Besides, she was right. It was dark and he would be unable to make his way anywhere right now. Zein supposed he just ought to be grateful that this woman’s husband wasn’t here to kick him out. For he was sure that would happen. Judean men never seemed to care for him much.
He bowed his head in thanks and said, “I thank you for your kind offer.” He was being overly polite, but the fact that he was in this household reminded him of his own stay with his aunt’s family. Apparently, the fear of being beaten was still strong within him, even though this was a different situation. Still, the last thing Zein wanted to do was offend if he truly was going to be here for some hours.
The woman disappeared to make some tea and Zein took the opportunity to sit down. He was tired, having been out performing early so as to make enough coin before the storm. It hadn’t worked, of course, but that didn’t lessen the effects of juggling for so many hours. And he hadn’t eaten all day either. He wondered if this woman in her spurt of kindness might consider sharing some food? For he wasn’t going to get some anywhere else. Of course, if not, Zein had endured worse hungry nights before. He would survive until morning, he was sure. Though now that he had thought of a belly full of food, his stomach seemed to rumble loudly in anticipation.
To his embarrassment, it made quite a loud noise, just as the woman stepped back into the room. Quickly, Zein was back on his feet, not wanting to seem like he was making himself too comfortable in her home. As nice as she was, surely she wouldn’t like the thought of him acting too familiar here.
“Thank you for your offer,” he said, attempting to cover up the continuous rumbling of his stomach. There was no stopping it now. Zein felt his cheeks redden slightly in embarrassment. He never really cared what he looked like to other people, but there had never really been anyone around to impress. Yosef understood him, having lived most of his life on the street and Tamar loved him because he was family. Even within his performing troupe, he kept mostly to himself, worried about being an embarrassment. This was the first time he had been in front of others in a long time, truly.
Keeping his head down, he continued, “I would like to accept if you are sure it is all right.”
Her invitation was so tempting, but Zein hadn’t stayed in a proper Judean home in years. In fact, he had intended to never stay in one again. They weren’t meant for the likes of him. Yet, her words were logical and he knew the storm would be a dangerous one. It had been a long time since Zein had seen a storm like this and he knew the devastating effects that were likely to occur. To be caught outside in an unfamiliar city would be akin to a death sentence. Or at least, he risked injury. Zein certainly couldn’t afford that.
Zein didn’t bother to correct this woman when she believed that he wasted his time in helping her. Truthfully, he needed to help her to get the promised coin she offered in order to stay at an inn. He just didn’t want to admit all of that to her and decided suddenly that it was probably easiest just to say yes to her offer of her home. It wasn’t as if this storm was going to last forever. He would be able to get out just as soon as the worst of it was done. Besides, she was right. It was dark and he would be unable to make his way anywhere right now. Zein supposed he just ought to be grateful that this woman’s husband wasn’t here to kick him out. For he was sure that would happen. Judean men never seemed to care for him much.
He bowed his head in thanks and said, “I thank you for your kind offer.” He was being overly polite, but the fact that he was in this household reminded him of his own stay with his aunt’s family. Apparently, the fear of being beaten was still strong within him, even though this was a different situation. Still, the last thing Zein wanted to do was offend if he truly was going to be here for some hours.
The woman disappeared to make some tea and Zein took the opportunity to sit down. He was tired, having been out performing early so as to make enough coin before the storm. It hadn’t worked, of course, but that didn’t lessen the effects of juggling for so many hours. And he hadn’t eaten all day either. He wondered if this woman in her spurt of kindness might consider sharing some food? For he wasn’t going to get some anywhere else. Of course, if not, Zein had endured worse hungry nights before. He would survive until morning, he was sure. Though now that he had thought of a belly full of food, his stomach seemed to rumble loudly in anticipation.
To his embarrassment, it made quite a loud noise, just as the woman stepped back into the room. Quickly, Zein was back on his feet, not wanting to seem like he was making himself too comfortable in her home. As nice as she was, surely she wouldn’t like the thought of him acting too familiar here.
“Thank you for your offer,” he said, attempting to cover up the continuous rumbling of his stomach. There was no stopping it now. Zein felt his cheeks redden slightly in embarrassment. He never really cared what he looked like to other people, but there had never really been anyone around to impress. Yosef understood him, having lived most of his life on the street and Tamar loved him because he was family. Even within his performing troupe, he kept mostly to himself, worried about being an embarrassment. This was the first time he had been in front of others in a long time, truly.
Keeping his head down, he continued, “I would like to accept if you are sure it is all right.”
Davitah had gone to fetch the blankets and pillows and Selima had returned, placing the tea beside the man. Thankfully he had not made the foolish decision to go out into the storm. Even if Selima had done all that she could, she would have been riddled with guilt and praying for his safety. The man had been kind and clearly in need of help, Kindness brought kindness in return. He assisted Selima, so it was only right she assisted him.
As he accepted her proposal Selima heard a rumble- louder than the thunder crashing outside. His cheeks had grown pink, and Selima could not help but give the man a smile. It was adorable and nothing to be ashamed of. “Of course- on two conditions. The first is that you drink the tea at the table. I would hate for any of my furniture out here to stain. The second is that you finish the portions of my food that I would normally make for my son and husband. I struggle to cook less when they are not around; I am a woman of habit. And thus the food always goes to waste. I’m riddled with guilt every time. Come, come. Drink at the table while I prepare supper.”
Selima ushered the man over to the table as she gathered the ingredients that she had bought today. “Hmm, the weather is cold. I’m in the mood for a stew. I always enjoy this when it’s raining. It warms the body and calms the mind.” Selima spoke as she lit the fire in the kitchen to prepare water to boil. She then gathered a myriad of vegetables, something anyone would need to stay healthy and strong, and a good cut of meat to add to it when ready.
“I apologize, I’ve been so rude. I hadn’t even told you my name.” Selima said as she peeled the vegetables. “I am Selima of Simeon. You’ve seen my daughter Davitah here.” Though now she was likely preparing the man’s sleeping arrangements.
As the water began to simmer then boil, Selima threw some of the vegetables there. “Hm, herbs… ah! I had gone to the market and saw this foreign trader- kind man though hard to understand. He had an amazing selection of spices though… oh here!” Selima threw some of the spices, words that she couldn’t even pronounce but that always had such a mouthwatering scent and really made her stews come alive.
“You’re quite the performer,” Selima complimented, stirring the pot. “Tell me, where did you learn to juggle like that?”
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Davitah had gone to fetch the blankets and pillows and Selima had returned, placing the tea beside the man. Thankfully he had not made the foolish decision to go out into the storm. Even if Selima had done all that she could, she would have been riddled with guilt and praying for his safety. The man had been kind and clearly in need of help, Kindness brought kindness in return. He assisted Selima, so it was only right she assisted him.
As he accepted her proposal Selima heard a rumble- louder than the thunder crashing outside. His cheeks had grown pink, and Selima could not help but give the man a smile. It was adorable and nothing to be ashamed of. “Of course- on two conditions. The first is that you drink the tea at the table. I would hate for any of my furniture out here to stain. The second is that you finish the portions of my food that I would normally make for my son and husband. I struggle to cook less when they are not around; I am a woman of habit. And thus the food always goes to waste. I’m riddled with guilt every time. Come, come. Drink at the table while I prepare supper.”
Selima ushered the man over to the table as she gathered the ingredients that she had bought today. “Hmm, the weather is cold. I’m in the mood for a stew. I always enjoy this when it’s raining. It warms the body and calms the mind.” Selima spoke as she lit the fire in the kitchen to prepare water to boil. She then gathered a myriad of vegetables, something anyone would need to stay healthy and strong, and a good cut of meat to add to it when ready.
“I apologize, I’ve been so rude. I hadn’t even told you my name.” Selima said as she peeled the vegetables. “I am Selima of Simeon. You’ve seen my daughter Davitah here.” Though now she was likely preparing the man’s sleeping arrangements.
As the water began to simmer then boil, Selima threw some of the vegetables there. “Hm, herbs… ah! I had gone to the market and saw this foreign trader- kind man though hard to understand. He had an amazing selection of spices though… oh here!” Selima threw some of the spices, words that she couldn’t even pronounce but that always had such a mouthwatering scent and really made her stews come alive.
“You’re quite the performer,” Selima complimented, stirring the pot. “Tell me, where did you learn to juggle like that?”
Davitah had gone to fetch the blankets and pillows and Selima had returned, placing the tea beside the man. Thankfully he had not made the foolish decision to go out into the storm. Even if Selima had done all that she could, she would have been riddled with guilt and praying for his safety. The man had been kind and clearly in need of help, Kindness brought kindness in return. He assisted Selima, so it was only right she assisted him.
As he accepted her proposal Selima heard a rumble- louder than the thunder crashing outside. His cheeks had grown pink, and Selima could not help but give the man a smile. It was adorable and nothing to be ashamed of. “Of course- on two conditions. The first is that you drink the tea at the table. I would hate for any of my furniture out here to stain. The second is that you finish the portions of my food that I would normally make for my son and husband. I struggle to cook less when they are not around; I am a woman of habit. And thus the food always goes to waste. I’m riddled with guilt every time. Come, come. Drink at the table while I prepare supper.”
Selima ushered the man over to the table as she gathered the ingredients that she had bought today. “Hmm, the weather is cold. I’m in the mood for a stew. I always enjoy this when it’s raining. It warms the body and calms the mind.” Selima spoke as she lit the fire in the kitchen to prepare water to boil. She then gathered a myriad of vegetables, something anyone would need to stay healthy and strong, and a good cut of meat to add to it when ready.
“I apologize, I’ve been so rude. I hadn’t even told you my name.” Selima said as she peeled the vegetables. “I am Selima of Simeon. You’ve seen my daughter Davitah here.” Though now she was likely preparing the man’s sleeping arrangements.
As the water began to simmer then boil, Selima threw some of the vegetables there. “Hm, herbs… ah! I had gone to the market and saw this foreign trader- kind man though hard to understand. He had an amazing selection of spices though… oh here!” Selima threw some of the spices, words that she couldn’t even pronounce but that always had such a mouthwatering scent and really made her stews come alive.
“You’re quite the performer,” Selima complimented, stirring the pot. “Tell me, where did you learn to juggle like that?”
She had noticed his stomach grumbling and Zein was embarrassed, but there was no helping it now. He continued to look down, truly unsure of how to interact with her. This was all very kind and classically Judean, yet it wasn’t what he had come to expect from Judeans. They weren’t as kind and generous as they claimed to be. That he knew from experience. If they were, then perhaps his mother never would have been banished to live alone and raise her child with no help. Or perhaps she would have gotten the help she needed when she was sick. Or even, perhaps he wouldn’t have had to live alone in an apartment with a dead woman for several weeks before someone came to find out what was wrong. Weren’t Judeans supposed to care? Well, Zein had learned early that they didn’t.
That was what baffled him so much about this situation. This woman was doing exactly what Judeans were supposed to be doing—but Zein couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Was she doing this for some other reason? Yes, he had helped her carry some things to her home, but he thought there had to be more to it than that. What did she want from him?
The boy nodded, following her to the table, finding a semblance of what he had come to expect from Judeans. Worry about keeping the perfect home. That someone—especially a stranger—might mess it up. Zein wasn’t sure he wouldn’t, but not on purpose. His anxiety about the situation might actually make the usually lithe teen fumble. He wondered about her husband and son. What if they came home tonight and found him? What would they think? Even if this woman was being very nice to him, it didn’t mean the men in her family would feel the same way. His aunt had been good enough to try to take him in, but it was his uncle that ultimately drove him away. And that wasn’t even close to the worst of it. Zein resolved then to make a run for it as soon as either man came home—storm or not. He was not going to be caught in a house with them.
Zein sipped his tea, listening as the woman spoke, though not finding anything to contribute to the conversation. It must be nice for her to not have to worry about where her meals were going to come from. To make any meal she wanted at a whim. It was something he would have died for as a child. It was something that drove him now. He could never get enough food these days—he was growing quickly.
“It is nice to meet you,” he responded, hesitantly, not really sure that it was. It would depend on what kind of trouble happened tonight. He hoped there would be nothing at all. “I am Zein,” he told her, though found no real reason to revel his father’s name. The man was a bastard who had never stuck around long enough to meet him. Zein loathed that he had to take his father’s name as part of his own. If he could, he never revealed it.
Zein wondered if she was nervous around him or simply just liked talking this month. She explained every action of her cooking and he honestly just didn’t care. It would be rude to say anything. Especially when there was a promised meal at the end. He was hungrier now than earlier and anything sounded delicious.
“Mostly taught myself,” he said, shrugging. “I learned some from a friend…He told me what moves worked best to please an audience. But I enjoy performing. It is fun. It is my life.” It was everything to him—his livelihood, but also his passion. He aspired to someday be the best.
“Thank you,” Zein added, remembering his manners. “It was kind of you to watch. Do you see many performances in the streets here?” He wondered what it would be like to stay here. Would he have much competition? Yet, it was still Judea and Zein was very sure that he didn’t want to stay in Judea.
“And thank you for allowing me to stay here,” he said before she could respond, wanting to make sure he was being extra polite. “It is very kind of you.”
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She had noticed his stomach grumbling and Zein was embarrassed, but there was no helping it now. He continued to look down, truly unsure of how to interact with her. This was all very kind and classically Judean, yet it wasn’t what he had come to expect from Judeans. They weren’t as kind and generous as they claimed to be. That he knew from experience. If they were, then perhaps his mother never would have been banished to live alone and raise her child with no help. Or perhaps she would have gotten the help she needed when she was sick. Or even, perhaps he wouldn’t have had to live alone in an apartment with a dead woman for several weeks before someone came to find out what was wrong. Weren’t Judeans supposed to care? Well, Zein had learned early that they didn’t.
That was what baffled him so much about this situation. This woman was doing exactly what Judeans were supposed to be doing—but Zein couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Was she doing this for some other reason? Yes, he had helped her carry some things to her home, but he thought there had to be more to it than that. What did she want from him?
The boy nodded, following her to the table, finding a semblance of what he had come to expect from Judeans. Worry about keeping the perfect home. That someone—especially a stranger—might mess it up. Zein wasn’t sure he wouldn’t, but not on purpose. His anxiety about the situation might actually make the usually lithe teen fumble. He wondered about her husband and son. What if they came home tonight and found him? What would they think? Even if this woman was being very nice to him, it didn’t mean the men in her family would feel the same way. His aunt had been good enough to try to take him in, but it was his uncle that ultimately drove him away. And that wasn’t even close to the worst of it. Zein resolved then to make a run for it as soon as either man came home—storm or not. He was not going to be caught in a house with them.
Zein sipped his tea, listening as the woman spoke, though not finding anything to contribute to the conversation. It must be nice for her to not have to worry about where her meals were going to come from. To make any meal she wanted at a whim. It was something he would have died for as a child. It was something that drove him now. He could never get enough food these days—he was growing quickly.
“It is nice to meet you,” he responded, hesitantly, not really sure that it was. It would depend on what kind of trouble happened tonight. He hoped there would be nothing at all. “I am Zein,” he told her, though found no real reason to revel his father’s name. The man was a bastard who had never stuck around long enough to meet him. Zein loathed that he had to take his father’s name as part of his own. If he could, he never revealed it.
Zein wondered if she was nervous around him or simply just liked talking this month. She explained every action of her cooking and he honestly just didn’t care. It would be rude to say anything. Especially when there was a promised meal at the end. He was hungrier now than earlier and anything sounded delicious.
“Mostly taught myself,” he said, shrugging. “I learned some from a friend…He told me what moves worked best to please an audience. But I enjoy performing. It is fun. It is my life.” It was everything to him—his livelihood, but also his passion. He aspired to someday be the best.
“Thank you,” Zein added, remembering his manners. “It was kind of you to watch. Do you see many performances in the streets here?” He wondered what it would be like to stay here. Would he have much competition? Yet, it was still Judea and Zein was very sure that he didn’t want to stay in Judea.
“And thank you for allowing me to stay here,” he said before she could respond, wanting to make sure he was being extra polite. “It is very kind of you.”
She had noticed his stomach grumbling and Zein was embarrassed, but there was no helping it now. He continued to look down, truly unsure of how to interact with her. This was all very kind and classically Judean, yet it wasn’t what he had come to expect from Judeans. They weren’t as kind and generous as they claimed to be. That he knew from experience. If they were, then perhaps his mother never would have been banished to live alone and raise her child with no help. Or perhaps she would have gotten the help she needed when she was sick. Or even, perhaps he wouldn’t have had to live alone in an apartment with a dead woman for several weeks before someone came to find out what was wrong. Weren’t Judeans supposed to care? Well, Zein had learned early that they didn’t.
That was what baffled him so much about this situation. This woman was doing exactly what Judeans were supposed to be doing—but Zein couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Was she doing this for some other reason? Yes, he had helped her carry some things to her home, but he thought there had to be more to it than that. What did she want from him?
The boy nodded, following her to the table, finding a semblance of what he had come to expect from Judeans. Worry about keeping the perfect home. That someone—especially a stranger—might mess it up. Zein wasn’t sure he wouldn’t, but not on purpose. His anxiety about the situation might actually make the usually lithe teen fumble. He wondered about her husband and son. What if they came home tonight and found him? What would they think? Even if this woman was being very nice to him, it didn’t mean the men in her family would feel the same way. His aunt had been good enough to try to take him in, but it was his uncle that ultimately drove him away. And that wasn’t even close to the worst of it. Zein resolved then to make a run for it as soon as either man came home—storm or not. He was not going to be caught in a house with them.
Zein sipped his tea, listening as the woman spoke, though not finding anything to contribute to the conversation. It must be nice for her to not have to worry about where her meals were going to come from. To make any meal she wanted at a whim. It was something he would have died for as a child. It was something that drove him now. He could never get enough food these days—he was growing quickly.
“It is nice to meet you,” he responded, hesitantly, not really sure that it was. It would depend on what kind of trouble happened tonight. He hoped there would be nothing at all. “I am Zein,” he told her, though found no real reason to revel his father’s name. The man was a bastard who had never stuck around long enough to meet him. Zein loathed that he had to take his father’s name as part of his own. If he could, he never revealed it.
Zein wondered if she was nervous around him or simply just liked talking this month. She explained every action of her cooking and he honestly just didn’t care. It would be rude to say anything. Especially when there was a promised meal at the end. He was hungrier now than earlier and anything sounded delicious.
“Mostly taught myself,” he said, shrugging. “I learned some from a friend…He told me what moves worked best to please an audience. But I enjoy performing. It is fun. It is my life.” It was everything to him—his livelihood, but also his passion. He aspired to someday be the best.
“Thank you,” Zein added, remembering his manners. “It was kind of you to watch. Do you see many performances in the streets here?” He wondered what it would be like to stay here. Would he have much competition? Yet, it was still Judea and Zein was very sure that he didn’t want to stay in Judea.
“And thank you for allowing me to stay here,” he said before she could respond, wanting to make sure he was being extra polite. “It is very kind of you.”
The pot was really starting to become something. The kitchen was filled with all sorts of delicious homely smells. Even Selima, who wasn’t all that hungry to begin with, felt her stomach rumble. Soup was always great to have on a cold, rainy day. It soothes one’s insides and brings warmth when instead fear or stress might have taken root. And in preparing it it served a second purpose:
It was a distraction. Outside in the world were her husband and son. They were fighting this terrible rain for the good of the people in Jerusalem. But they were only mortals. They did not possess the power of Yahweh. Should an accident happen, they might be hurt along with anyone else. If they were lost…
Stir, stir, stir.
“Not often are there performances on the streets. However, I have noticed some of Greek’s culture has bled through to our border.” Her husband had complained about it time and time again. “In particular plays. Occasionally I might stumble upon a performance in the square. A drama or a comedy, they’re ever so lovely to watch. My daughter especially could stand there for hours. Sometimes I leave her there while I attend to my shopping, though it’s always a danger doing that. She’s impossible to pull away.”
“Oh please, Eema. You stand there just as long as I, don’t you lead the man astray.” Davitah rounded the corner, smiling at the boy as she took a seat at the table, “She would have you believe that she is the pinnacle of propriety, but the number of tears she had shed at those plays in front over all those strangers would astound you. My mother is many things, easily distracted is one of them.”
What Davitah said was true. Selima could not help but marvel at the beauty and the captivity of the performers. She liked to be precisely on time, not early, not late. But when there was a play she always fell behind. Their stories were like an escape to another world. A world far different than what Selima was used to. And to be with the audience, to laugh and cry with them. It was when Judea was truly one big family.
“I prefer the term curious,” Selima said as she poured soup into two bowls, placing them in front of the pair. “Now hush, you. Making me out to be a liar, why I ought ‘ta,” Selima pinched her daughter’s cheek and she made a face before giggling. Then she returned to the pot, serving herself some soup.
“And it is no problem at all, Zein. There is no need to thank me. You helped me, after all.” Selima took a seat next to her daughter. “Zein, would you like to lead the prayer?”
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The pot was really starting to become something. The kitchen was filled with all sorts of delicious homely smells. Even Selima, who wasn’t all that hungry to begin with, felt her stomach rumble. Soup was always great to have on a cold, rainy day. It soothes one’s insides and brings warmth when instead fear or stress might have taken root. And in preparing it it served a second purpose:
It was a distraction. Outside in the world were her husband and son. They were fighting this terrible rain for the good of the people in Jerusalem. But they were only mortals. They did not possess the power of Yahweh. Should an accident happen, they might be hurt along with anyone else. If they were lost…
Stir, stir, stir.
“Not often are there performances on the streets. However, I have noticed some of Greek’s culture has bled through to our border.” Her husband had complained about it time and time again. “In particular plays. Occasionally I might stumble upon a performance in the square. A drama or a comedy, they’re ever so lovely to watch. My daughter especially could stand there for hours. Sometimes I leave her there while I attend to my shopping, though it’s always a danger doing that. She’s impossible to pull away.”
“Oh please, Eema. You stand there just as long as I, don’t you lead the man astray.” Davitah rounded the corner, smiling at the boy as she took a seat at the table, “She would have you believe that she is the pinnacle of propriety, but the number of tears she had shed at those plays in front over all those strangers would astound you. My mother is many things, easily distracted is one of them.”
What Davitah said was true. Selima could not help but marvel at the beauty and the captivity of the performers. She liked to be precisely on time, not early, not late. But when there was a play she always fell behind. Their stories were like an escape to another world. A world far different than what Selima was used to. And to be with the audience, to laugh and cry with them. It was when Judea was truly one big family.
“I prefer the term curious,” Selima said as she poured soup into two bowls, placing them in front of the pair. “Now hush, you. Making me out to be a liar, why I ought ‘ta,” Selima pinched her daughter’s cheek and she made a face before giggling. Then she returned to the pot, serving herself some soup.
“And it is no problem at all, Zein. There is no need to thank me. You helped me, after all.” Selima took a seat next to her daughter. “Zein, would you like to lead the prayer?”
The pot was really starting to become something. The kitchen was filled with all sorts of delicious homely smells. Even Selima, who wasn’t all that hungry to begin with, felt her stomach rumble. Soup was always great to have on a cold, rainy day. It soothes one’s insides and brings warmth when instead fear or stress might have taken root. And in preparing it it served a second purpose:
It was a distraction. Outside in the world were her husband and son. They were fighting this terrible rain for the good of the people in Jerusalem. But they were only mortals. They did not possess the power of Yahweh. Should an accident happen, they might be hurt along with anyone else. If they were lost…
Stir, stir, stir.
“Not often are there performances on the streets. However, I have noticed some of Greek’s culture has bled through to our border.” Her husband had complained about it time and time again. “In particular plays. Occasionally I might stumble upon a performance in the square. A drama or a comedy, they’re ever so lovely to watch. My daughter especially could stand there for hours. Sometimes I leave her there while I attend to my shopping, though it’s always a danger doing that. She’s impossible to pull away.”
“Oh please, Eema. You stand there just as long as I, don’t you lead the man astray.” Davitah rounded the corner, smiling at the boy as she took a seat at the table, “She would have you believe that she is the pinnacle of propriety, but the number of tears she had shed at those plays in front over all those strangers would astound you. My mother is many things, easily distracted is one of them.”
What Davitah said was true. Selima could not help but marvel at the beauty and the captivity of the performers. She liked to be precisely on time, not early, not late. But when there was a play she always fell behind. Their stories were like an escape to another world. A world far different than what Selima was used to. And to be with the audience, to laugh and cry with them. It was when Judea was truly one big family.
“I prefer the term curious,” Selima said as she poured soup into two bowls, placing them in front of the pair. “Now hush, you. Making me out to be a liar, why I ought ‘ta,” Selima pinched her daughter’s cheek and she made a face before giggling. Then she returned to the pot, serving herself some soup.
“And it is no problem at all, Zein. There is no need to thank me. You helped me, after all.” Selima took a seat next to her daughter. “Zein, would you like to lead the prayer?”
