Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Left: Remained, or Departed (11/20/25)
-
TITLE: The Weight of the Crown | Previous Challenge Entry
By Loni Bowden-Horn
11/25/25 -
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES
I, Eglon, King of Moab, had secured a lasting peace, a brittle quiet fashioned on their broken spirit and enforced by the might of Ammon and Amalek. The City of Palms, our shared jewel, stood as a constant, shimmering reminder of their conquest.
My palace was comfortable, particularly the cool upper room where I held my most private audiences and rested. Life was good; I lacked for nothing. Some called me a very stout man, a sign of my power and the abundance of my table.
I dismissed my most loyal guard with a wave, a flicker of irritation sparking when that Israelite, Ehud—the same man who'd just presented a pittance of tribute—returned, demanding a private audience.
He stood before me, small and unremarkable, no weapon visible on his left side, just an air of piety I found amusing.
"Speak, Israelite," I sighed, a wave of boredom already washing over me. "What is this word from your deity?"
"I have a message from God for you," he repeated, his eyes burning into mine.
His words hung in the air, cold as a tomb: a "secret message from God." The claim was absurd, an insult to my power, yet it snagged me like a hook in the gut. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cool air of my chamber whispered across my skin.
I started to rise from my grand throne, a rare courtesy, hoisting my weight, making myself accessible. In a flash of impossible speed, his left hand went to his right thigh—a place my guards would never have thought to check.
A sudden, immense pain stole my breath, my cry dying in my throat as the short, double-edged blade plunged deep into my belly. I couldn't scream, couldn't even exhale, just a silent, searing agony as the hilt vanished into my own flesh.
I watched him step back, leaving the blade embedded within me, its hilt a grotesque monument to my failure.
He turned and slipped away, locking the door behind him. The last thing I heard before the world went black was the faint, dismissive mumbles of my guards, assuming their god-like ruler was merely "relieving himself" in the royal privy.
************
I waited with the other guards, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. The silence stretched, becoming heavier, thicker. Why was the King taking so long? The other servants nearby murmured among themselves, assuming their portly master was simply relieving himself, a common occurrence. But the air felt charged, wrong. My hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of my sword.
After an eternity of anxious waiting, our captain decided we could wait any longer. We forced the doors open. There he was: Eglon, our departed King, fallen to the floor, lifeless. A cold, dreadful certainty washed over me. The seemingly harmless Israelite had done it. We hadn't heard a struggle, hadn't raised an alarm.
Our mighty ruler, the formidable tyrant of Moab, was mortal after all, cut down, and we, his elite guard, were too late. The ramifications of this moment felt immense, a terrible void opening where our sovereign had been.
*********
I, Ehud, had slipped from the chamber, securing the heavy door behind me, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. Adrenaline and the certainty of divine purpose fueled each step as I eased past unsuspecting guards and through the cool palace porch, believing the king merely indisposed.
Finding refuge in the hills of Ephraim while our foes remain in the surrounding territory. I raised the ram's horn. A single, resounding blast shattered the valley's peace—the signal.. "The Lord has given our enemies into our hands today!" I cried to the gathering tribesmen, the rallying cry of our liberation.
A generation of silence, a flickering hope in the growing darkness—we had strayed, but the ancient promise remained.
The answer to our desperate cries was not a champion, but me: an unlikely, left-handed man, a man of shadows. I became the quiet, sharp instrument of a sovereign will. Through my frailty, a future and a hope prevailed, an eerie eighty years of profound peace born from that single, decisive moment when the hand of the divine moved unseen and silenced the turmoil.
…….
742 Words Based on Judges 3 account of King Elgon and Ehud
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.
My favorite line: Through my frailty, a future and a hope prevailed, an eerie eighty years of profound peace born from that single, decisive moment when the hand of the divine moved unseen and silenced the turmoil.