Two Jars

Chapter 1

The sun was about midday when her limbs grazed slowly against the threadbare mattress, meticulously she extended the rest of the blanket across the sleeping child, her breathe caught in her chest as she stared at him, almost too scared to breathe, until she saw his tiny chest lift as he took in a deep breath exhaling slowly, cautiously she placed a finger against his pulse, it was faint but steady, barely restricting the urge to brush the errant strands of hair that moved lifelessly across his forehead, she tucked in the over turned mattress, shifting more hay around him in case he turned sharply in his sleep, a motion that'd become more frequent.

She crossed over to the other side of the room and opened her day pot to sprinkle her face; the emptiness of the pot harshly drew her to reality.

A cold dry draft pushed its way through the windows, shivering she wrapped herself as much as she could crossing the passage to close the door. Rattling noise along the foot of the fireplace addressed her attention to the gold chains on the sculptured figure, staring at it in forlorn, her mind slipped away.

There'd been once a time when she'd gotten up at the first cockcrow and joyfully serviced libations to the deity, once when Phoenicia had been beautiful.

Once when the colors abound, the streets buzzed with engagements of buyers and sellers.

Once when the people of Phoenicia knew nothing more than to wake and count their blessings, just as any other country.

Then the King of Judah had fallen for their princess's beauty and the high priest had all but willingly given his daughter out and the king had married her. Maybe it all began when he, erected an altar to ba’al there in Israel, to please his queen he had said, it was going to be a symbol of peace and unity between the two nations and a future to look forward to.

Of course that future had come, as it wasn't long till the Israelites became partial to ba’al's teachings, the Phoenicians joy could know no bound as the proud nation of Israel, the centre of all important events that ever happened were on their side and worshiped their god! What could have possibly gone wrong with that...? But that man had come.

Nobody liked him, not even the Israelites and their king, but no one said anything openly.

He'd claimed to be of a power greater than any pagan god, he had called his God, the Lord God! A shiver ran down her spine as it always did anytime she dared to wonder about that man Elijah.

How the Israelites hadn’t backed up that claim with him as well, was as much a mystery as the audacity the man had had when he had stood before the Israelite king and his queen, the high priest and priestess of ba’al and proclaimed that there would be no or dew until he said so…or so the news had reached Zarephath. The audacity, the rebellion, the heresy and…The courage the man had in his God.

The jingles against the wooden figure drew her attention back to it again. That man, Elijah, the servant of the Lord God of Israel had said it wasn't alive and could do nothing. 

She dragged the edge of her shawl across her hair as she got on her knees and in quiet abeyance, she began to mumble her devotions and caricatures, barely halfway through, she slumped to the ground in a tired weary heap as exhaustion threatened to overcome her, her shoulders began to tremble slightly as she scrambled to the statue, almost throwing herself against it,

"Elijah challenged you. He called upon his God to withhold the rain and dew for two year, two years! Wouldn't you do something yet?"

A whimper escaped her lips as a tear slipped down, "I have served you for many years, unfailing. He's dying, I’m dying. We need food and water….I don't want to lose him too, please?!"

The sculpture gazed back at her as it had for so many years now…and again she found herself staring at ...wood.
Is this is? Was this what Elijah had meant when he said that ba’al was lifeless?!!

Her shoulders shook violently as she wept embittered tearless. She knew she shouldn’t question, blind obedience had always been the ways the priest of ba’al had taught, but yet her mind couldn’t help but let itself down the slippery tunnels of doubt.

Could the prophets have been speaking the truth all this years? Surely, the leaders and priests would have been able to knew whether or not ba’al was alive…or had ba’al finally left, surely the sacrifices of the king, the priests and the entire people of Zarephath was enough to appease ba’al, he couldn’t still be angry… or-or was it possible that all this years ba’al was just wood. What if ba’al wasn't alive and had never been more than just wood. What then would have been the point for all these years?

With an exhausted swipe of her hand she downed the sculpture, “God of Elijah, the Lord God. The God that really hears, Please help me,” she whispered until weariness over came her.