Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: REDUCE (11/05/15)
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TITLE: Jobab's Mission | Previous Challenge Entry
By Pat Small
11/09/15 -
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Jehunna was sleeping. She would not worry when she found him gone. She would assume he was hunting. Their rations were dangerously low--some flour remained and a small cruse of oil. He really ought to look for game, but the task consumed him.
“Ready at last,” he thought. “This may be one of the most important things I have ever done.” The sky was losing its inky blackness; there’s nothing any darker than a moonless desert, he mused. Jehunna will be rolling up her mat soon and starting a fire, he thought. She will whisper a prayer to her God that I will have success and bring home a small animal she can roast over the fire.
A lot of good God has done for us, he sneered. For years we have labored, hoping for his blessing. But to no avail. Now it is up to me, as the man of the household, to take things into my own hands.
He drew closer to the hills and his eyes began scanning the trees, looking for one with smooth bark, no knots or defects of any kind. He would not be satisfied with the first good looking tree. It had to be the best the forest had to offer. His mission was that important.
The sun was getting higher in the sky, and Jobab began to feel the wetness under his arms. He stopped, and sat down on a large boulder. He lifted the skin of water to his lips and drank deeply. Ahh, that was good. It was refreshing to his dry throat, and gave him a new burst of vitality. He rose, and continued his search. His eyes constantly roved back and forth. He would know it when he saw it. Of that, he felt certain.
Higher and hotter rose the sun. It was midday by now. I guess it’s alright if I take another break and eat my bread, he thought. That and another drink of water will hit the spot. And it did. It was just a few minutes later that he saw it. A tree fit for a king. He rushed toward it, and began hacking with total abandon. It was an arduous task with just an ax, but at last he was successful.
He turned his weary feet in the direction of home, dragging his prize behind him. This was just the first part of his self-appointed assignment. He could hardly wait to get started.
At last the tent came into view. Jehunna sat on a low stool, kneading bread, the fire blazing. Probably she was looking forward to cooking fresh meat over the coals. She would be disappointed when all he brought home was a tree trunk. He couldn’t worry about that. He knew what he had to do; he was determined. He had been right; she was furious, and grew more so as he labored on his project.
Days and hours of whittling and polishing later, Baal-arauna was finished—a god worthy of their worship. Jehunna made cakes of their last bread and oil; he invited the neighbors. All night they feasted, danced and worshipped. But when morning came, nothing had changed. The food was gone.
Three days passed. A weakened, despairing Jobab tossed on his mat. His mind returned to stories the elders told around the fires. They told of a God who parted the Red Sea, sent manna and quail from heaven, kept the widow’s cruse filled with oil and her barrel filled with meal, tumbled walls with a shout, and closed the mouths of lions. As children, they had listened enthralled. As youth, they had mocked privately, out of range of old men’s ears. As young men, they had reasoned, “ If one god has so much power, many gods would serve us better.” It was this premise that had led Jobab to his labor of love in creating Baal-arauna.
He had searched for the perfect tree, worked until his fingers were raw, and spent their last food reserves; yet they were starving.
Then He remembered grandpa showing him scrolls which he said told of this god. Tomorrow he would visit the old man and ask if they still existed; he had to know the truth.
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Well written too.