Ruth: Reimagined

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It was pitch black and cold. For a while, Ruth could hear nothing but her short breaths, nothing but the pounding of her heart. It stilled at the sound of a groan. It might've been a man or a woman.  All she knew was that as the person cried out in agony, wordless moans, her body shook, with dreadful fear.

It wasn't long after the revelation that she was impure that she was dragged out of the room, roughly against her will.

Ruth had never  fought so hard in her life, the pure desperation, the tears that trailed down her tears, as the doom of death, drew closer and closer  that old woman was stronger than she looked.

"What are you looking at?" She yelled at the other two women, who were still frozen in pity, watching her drag Ruth out. "Help me drag her to the dungeon."

It was as they were heading down an isolated set of stairs, desperate, Ruth screamed for her 'mother', and she screamed for 'help' for 'mercy.' "Please, please don't kill me. Please, I'll go far away from here, I'll —"

"It's too late for that, princess." The old woman mocked.  "You should've thought about all this before seducing the King. Your greed has led you to your  death."

"No," Ruth cried, and her heart tore open, and it was in this weakened state that the women found it easier to pull her along.

Due to the rumours of war, there was barely anyone roaming around the hallways of the palace, so it was easier to lock Ruth up, without any questions asked.

When they stepped into the dungeon, it was like stepping into the nighttime. The darkest of nights, with not a star in sight. The air was humid, musky, and the atmosphere heavy with something Ruth could not put a finger on. It was also cold to the bone. Goosebumps appeared on her skin.

Ruth's voice was choked out of her, the fear gripping her throat. Still, she tried to fight out of the old woman's arms, but she was strong, and Ruth hadn’t eaten all day, as it was tradition for the bride to eat after the Taharah.

Ruth thought she was scared before, but when a piercing, hoarse voice broke out in the darkness, her heart stilled.

"Let me out of here!"

The voice was desperate, almost crazed, but the agony echoed on.

Before Ruth could question what was going on, a gate was opened, and the old woman pushed  Ruth into a dark cellar. She  fell on her knees, the dress ripping, and her skin scraping. Locking it up, quickly the old woman looked down at Ruth, and it was only then that a flame was lit, and the sight that Ruth beheld made her want to close her eyes.

There, behind the closed cellar stood, an old bitter woman, whose greatest pleasure was her death, who held not even a drop of compassion.  And in her eyes, Ruth saw the face of every god she'd ever served. All of which took life from her, blood, hope, and who, in her darkest, grievous times, offered not even a drop of their help or concern.

It was then that Ruth came to the thought of how worthless her life actually was. Although the fear was still suffocating, she was slowly slipping in to the peace of her death, maybe even yearning for it, because of the life she had lived. With fading love, constant pain, and grief that ached, as well as moments of hope that blew away like the wind, this life was not worth living.