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Looking for your new favorite story?
Join us as a going guest
In this Mother’s Day celebration
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Monday, April 7, 2025
Saturday, April 5, 2025
My life, and the life of our son, are both in danger
Quite abruptly she rises from my bed, flings the door wide open and leaves me—but not before turning around to toss the papyrus scroll with great fury in my direction.
The thing flaps, flips, and flutters in the air, until coming to a rest up here on the wall, hanging by a thread over the hilt of Goliath’s sword. Reflected in reverse across the surface of the blade, its letters seem as foreign as Egyptian hieroglyphs.
I am old, too old to learn a new language. What is written here bears no meaning to me.
The door slams shut, and from the other side of it I hear the thud of her footsteps. Away she goes, stomping across the corridor with pronounced anger.
“Come back,” I whisper, fearing that there is no one around this place to hear me.
And just when I crawl under the blankets, and turn my face to the wall, getting ready for the chill to take me back in its grip, I hear her footfalls coming back. The door is still closed between us, which muffles her voice when she cries out, “Help you want? You’ll get it when you give it.”
“I wish I knew what you want me to do,” I mumble, sinking into my pillow.
Which is the moment I sense, by the cold draft on the back of my neck, that she has opened the door, if only by a crack.
“Perhaps,” says Bathsheba, “you can’t do it anymore, you can’t find the words to reach out to me.”
She waits a moment for a reply, which I am too sleepy to give. My eyes are heavy, and the only thing I can still discern is shadows, dancing on the wall. Without having to look I sense a new presence. There it is, in the corner.
Slumber is here, waiting.
Bathsheba comes closer and this time, she kneels before me. “Perhaps asking forgiveness is a hard thing, too hard for you to do. That,” she says, “I can understand. But rising to action was something you used to enjoy, and you did it quite well, especially when threatened.”
“Yes,” I murmur, in a tone that grows more and more sluggish, from one word to the next. “I used to thrive on it. Fame... Grandeur... Glory... ”
The last thing I sense before sleep comes is her touch. She clasps my hand, and with her warmest voice she says, “I beg you: show me you still care. Read the scroll. Do it now, David, because this you must realize: my life, and the life of our son, are both in grave danger.”
The most torrid tale of passion ever told: David's forbidden love for Bathsheba, and his attempt to cover up the scandal. Will he muster the strength needed to protect her and save their son from danger?
This is volume II of the trilogy The David Chronicles, told candidly by the king himself. David uses modern language, indicating that this is no fairytale. Rather, it is a story that is happening here and now. Listen to his voice as he undergoes a profound change, realizing the curse looming over his entire future.
If you like middle eastern historical romance and forbidden love affair, this King David novel has a modern twist like no book you have read before, bringing King David of the bible to life against the background of Israel historical fiction. With vivid descriptions of court intrigue, it paints King David biography in a way that is both classic and timely.
★★★★★ ”This captivating and commendable work had me immersed from the beginning... The author shows exceptional ability when it comes to storytelling.
Thursday, April 3, 2025
I must keep myself away from her
I must keep myself away from her, to protect both of us from gossip. In secret I send word to Bathsheba, to let her know that I intend to take care of her. I want to do the right thing, one way or another—even though I have no idea, at first, what that may mean. What action should I take? Should I reunite her with her husband, or else take him out of the way, somehow, and make an honest woman out of her?
Utterly baffled I close my eyes. I try not to think about the forbidden woman, not to imagine her nude—but my mind works against me.
There she is, sitting in her bedroom, crossing one leg over another at the edge of the bed. By her side, over the richly embroidered, velvety blankets, lays her robe. It is damp and crumpled, because in my mind she has just come out of the bath. From somewhere above soft, golden light is washing over her, letting her flesh glow against the darkness. Light glances off a teardrop earring that is hanging from her earlobe.
I pay no attention to the maid, who is kneeling there before her, because she is barely seen, sunk in the shadows of my vision. Instead I focus on imagining Bathsheba. I paint her face turned from me, in profile. She is holding back a tear as my note rustles in her hand, with the whisper of my word of honor.
By the look in her eye, she senses that which I have not yet begun to consider. With profound sadness, she can already foresee the calamity, which my promise would cause for her, and for her husband, Uriah. In my mind Bathsheba is already grieving—and yet, she seems to accept her fate, the way I would dictate it.
I wipe my eyes, to make her disappear. My confusion starts to border on a sense of panic.
I find myself feeling guilty one moment, and the next moment blaming everything on my trusty soldier, Uriah. I hate him, I mean, I love him, I do—but as a doting husband, he should have been more careful.
He should have kept her out of sight, so her beauty would not tempt me. If you think this is a harsh thing to say I agree with you—but then, consider this: by the law of the land I am above the law.
★★★★★ ”This captivating and commendable work had me immersed from the beginning... The author shows exceptional ability when it comes to storytelling.“
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