My Last Words Are For You
This is about a Hebrew girl in Jerusalum who is condemned to death for...(you'll read about it). the time period is around 1300s.She is writing in journal entries to her friend its very short after all she is about to die! Tell me what you think about it!
Note: Deborah is woman who is an legendary figure in Hebrew history. This story contains rape.
Journal entry #1
I’ve done something terrible, and in less than a week I shall pay the price for my awful deed. I sit in my cell now writing this by the very weak beams that catch the bars of the windows. I hope this finds you, my good friend Hatshepsut! I can use the strength of the Egyptian Queen you were named after. Forgive the tear stains that wet this book, it is just that I am so upset! I am only 14 and I am facing death! Curse the heroic Deborah, it is all her fault!
Journal Entry # 2
My dear Hatty (remember I used to call you that pet name when we were younger and would play in my fathers unreasonably big study? We used to play Hioth Siok. You’d always hide the same place… under his scroll desk; I used to pretend as though I didn’t know). Sorry, I know now is not the time to reminisce, but memories are now all I have to hold upon, when the future and present is so grave.
I’ve lost track of time, I’ve sat upon the hard rock of this bed so long. Time seems to have no meaning when locked up in a tiny room. The sun rises, and sets once more. Meager food is sent through a small hole in the wall. And to think, only many months before I would have scornfully refuse to eat it. Yes I admit Father was a good provider. He was a Military officer, the General of very high rank in our Hebrew society. He ruled the household and his officers with an iron fist, but for me… I was his weak spot and I knew it. I would beg him every night to tell me stories of Deborah, the woman I was named after; she was such a brave woman. I wanted so much to be like her. Maybe too much so… she’s the reason I am in this mess.
Please forgive me, the light is too weak for me to write anymore, I shall write more tomorrow.
Journal Entry #3
Maybe I should start at the beginning, where it all started. As you know, in our Hebrew tradition, along with worshipping Yahweh nonstop (not that I’m complaining, forgive me Yahweh) we start looking for husbands around the age of 12. So me being 14, well, I didn’t have one week go by I didn’t meet a new “promising figure”, as my mother liked to say. But apparently after some 20 men, my father still thought not one as good enough. I wasn’t complaining, I wasn’t all that eager to get married anyway! I saw the way Mother slaved away, and I REALLY would’ve liked to stay the way I was then. Just riding the great ride of life. (Yahweh, I really didn’t know how good I had it. Yes, I can now admit I was spoiled beyond belief).
Anyway, one day father came home more excited than usually. He usually came home looking exhausted, and only when he saw me, his eyes would light up tiredly, yet warmly. However this day, he burst through the door with an excited look over his face. Of course, me being extremely vain I thought he was excited because he finally bought me that expensive dress I so longed for. But he rushed pass me to mother picked her up at the waist her kissed her fully on the lips. I blushed, for I’ve never saw him display his emotion so grandly with her.
He usually only glanced at her uninterestedly and told her to go fetch a glass of water for me, or something else. I never had respect for my mother, because I saw the way father bossed her around, and how she’d just obey like some happy slave. I knew when I became married NO ONE would boss me around like some kind of servant! It would surely be the other way around! One day I confronted mother about it. She smiled at me sadly and just shook her head. She told me with a regretful look upon her face, “It seems like such a long time ago I was in love. Let me tell you a secret every woman learns; marriage slowly kills the soul!” I recoiled from my mother and slapped her, for she looked at me with a crazed smile playing upon her face. The slap returned her reality and she shook her head dazedly. I left her there with a broom in her hand looking like a helpless lost puppy. That was the last time i spoke more than a few words with her.
Any way, after my father kissed my mother and left her looking (once again) dazed, he exclaimed, “We shall be richer than ever! I’ve found the perfect husband for Deborah! Do you remember Lucinder, well; his son is looking for a wife! Deborah will be perfect! Do you understand how much dowry we will receive for her? I will never have to work again!” Greed nearly glazed his eyes over. I stood shaking in my slippered feet. I’ve never seen my father in such a state. He looked nearly overcome with such greed I was afraid. This was my dearest father talking about me as though I were only one of his cattle. A sob reached my throat, threatening to tear out. I ran to my room where I threw myself upon my bed and let the tears flow freely.
And now, in remembering it all, the tears run down my grubby cheeks that haven’t been washed for many, many weeks. This is where I must stop Hetty, my hand refuses to stop the shaking, and I can no longer write for today.
Journal Entry # 4
Dearest Hatshepsut, I cannot remember the last time I took a bath. Sweet, sweet water, why haven’t you graced me with your beauty? I smell as though I’ve been stuck in a sewage tank for YEARS! And even though because of lack of nutrition I don’t use the bathroom often, you would die from the smell of human bowel movement. I don’t mean for you to loose your lunch from reading this… sweet, sweet lunch…that’s another thing I would die for at the moment (no pun intended). Every day I eat the same thing… I’m sorry I can’t describe it for you… it is some kind of gunk not worthy of rats! And the taste! For the first day I refused to eat it, yelling for something better. But that better thing never came. I was resorted to begging for the very thing I so defiantly refused.
The drink they give me… it makes me weaker and weaker each day. Yes Hetty, I did think they were poisoning me slowly until my body gave out, but they aren’t. I asked, desperate for some clues to what was to kill me, the hand I always see push my food through. When I inquired, he or she, I couldn’t tell, laughed wickedly. Then it said, “No little dear, people the likes of you don’t get such an easy death. It is much worst than that!” Hetty, I’ve had nightmares each night. What can possibly be worst? I should have never asked. Blind ignorance was better than picturing them hang me or… worst.
Journal Entry #5
Dearest Hettey, I apologize for that very short entry, but the wicked thing had come back and scrambled for the food I so despised, but needed in order to survive. I am ashamed to say I threw this page aside without a backward glance and scrambled toward the bowl that’s remnants reminded me of blended maggots (not to mention smelled and tasted like it too). I gulped down the strange liquid that burned my throat like acid, almost choking on its taste.
Well, back to my series of unfortunate events. The day I was to meet this rich gentleman I was “sure to marry”, I was put through a series of very excruciatingly long preparations. My skin was rubbed raw from being washed so vigorously, and it stung from the oils and fragrances they poured over me. I smelled like a very oily rose, my nose wrinkles thinking of it now. My hair was pulled and teased until my head was burning with pain by being scraped by so many combs and brushes. The new dress I had begged my father for was replaced by an elaborate gown with too many ribbons and bows. Makeup was smeared across my face and my lips were dabbed with bright rouge.
The outcome; I looked like a ridiculous fool with too much powder on her face and too many ribbons on her dress. But everyone preened and cried out, “How adorable!” I tried to be excited as a carriage pulled us to this stranger’s house, but all I felt was as if there was lead in my stomach. When I saw their house, it took the very breath from my lungs and replaced the oxygen with a sense of foreboding. I almost didn’t get out the carriage, but father yanked my hand insistently. The look of greed had returned to his eyes, and I didn’t see a hint of Father in them. He had transformed into a money hungry mongrel, willing to sell his daughter off for the promise of riches.
Let me tell you, David was the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. Just looking at his luscious lips, heavy eyelids and muscular build, made me blush. When he smiled at me I almost fainted, even though it held a little more arrogance than I would have liked. He bowed low to me and I curtsied just like I was taught.
At dinner, David kept throwing me peculiar glances all throughout the course of the meal. He would lick his lips and smile almost….flirtatiously? No, it couldn’t be, he was not yet my companion and it is against our way to be so forward. The most important detail is the fact that he kept putting his hand upon my thigh and rubbing it. I blushed madly and though, “Why is he doing this at the TABLE?!?!” he just grinned at me as our parents made small talk.
My father cleared his throat when the meal was over and said with a nervous lick of his moustache, “And now to discuss the very fragile matter of the dowry…” he flicked a quick glance at me and David and demanded for us to leave and go into the sitting area. Like a gentlemen, David helped me up and led me out of the dining area and into the other room. We could hear only small pieces of chit chat coming from the table, but the voices were that of those bargaining for something.
I’m so sorry Hetty, I cannot go on any further. The memory of this is just much too painful. I promise tomorrow I shall tell you what as forsaken me to this crabby cell. Until then I must rest to gather up the little strength I have left.
Journal #6
Dearest Hetty, I am shaking, bad it is not from cold. Remembering what happens makes my skin break out with small bumps. I must get myself together. Perhaps if I don’t talk about it I will lose my sanity. My teeth chatter from a cold that cannot be coming from this hot, rank room. So, back to the terrible past…
David smiled that rich arrogant smile once more and stared at my blouse. He was making me uncomfortable so I asked him what he was doing with his life. He smiled (his smile was really starting to make me feel sick, I don’t like people who smile to much. It means they have much to hide and they keep it a secret behind their lips) and replied, “What are YOU doing with your life?” I just stared at him and blinked slowly. I wanted to scream, “What IS there for a girl doing with her life beside his tiring hunt for a husband?” instead like the perfect young lady I was I said, “I’m currently getting ready to become a woman.” Oh barf, my mother would have been SO proud! And I hate my mother so that’s not a good thing.
Apparently other things were on David’s mind. He offered to show me his room. Like the totally innocent person I am, I followed him, mild curiosity tugging me along. I know this is the part when you intake your breath and think of me as a stupid fool, but Hetty, you are already married, so you would know… but I was just a child Hetty! I was only a child! And he took that from me! He TOOK THAT FROM ME!!! I cannot stop the shaking…so cold…I must stop… I cannot go on…
Journal # 7
Dearest Hetty, I am determined now. I WILL get through this….This is what happened: He locked the door, which I found odd and turned toward me. I sat on his bed looking around. His room was very male. Clothing was scattered around in a disorganized neat way. His roomed smelled of dirt, but it was an almost pleasant smell. (You wouldn’t understand unless you were there).
He looked at me hungrily in a way that scared me and made me, yet again, uncomfortable. I cleared my throat and he was on me before I could say anything or protest even a little. Now even though I am oblivious to a lot of things, I was aware of what was happening. He was trying to get me… I was helpless to his strong arms and legs. Please believe me when I say I tried to scream, but he put something in my mouth. He punched me in the stomach so I had no breath in my lungs to draw in the breath to scream.
Somehow his fingers found someway to get the million buttons and bows off, and soon I was naked. When he was finished with me, my body was bruised and I was in immense pain. Even though I was nearly unconscious, I didn’t do what most girls who found themselves in this predicament do (cry and ask Yahweh why). I thought of the all heroic Deborah. I pictured her crushing Sisera’s temple with her hammer. Don’t ask me where the strength I felt came from; I like to think Deborah was there with me, guiding me like a Goddess.
I found myself sitting upright with David’s naked back to me. I don’t know why he had such a big blade by his bedside, but I’m not ashamed to say I picked it up with the fierceness of a lioness. He heard me move and turned toward me in all his glory. I bared my teeth, seething with anger. He took my innocence, so I was going to take something from him! I had a wicked look on my face that could have melted wax and with a quick flick of my wrist; his male part was lying on the floor. I laughed madly, hysterically. Look at what took me with so much pain! That pathetic piece of meat was lying upon the floor, shriveled and bleeding.
His face was of one with pure disbelief. He hadn’t even screamed, it was so quick. That only made me laugh harder. I laughed until it alerted both of our parents. That’s how they found us… him looking like he jus lost his life, and me as if the world was tickling me relentlessly. David’s mother screamed like a banshee, and his father looked like the devil himself. My mother, the weakling she is, fainted on the spot. My father looked as if all his dreams were being shattered one by one. And then there was me… still laughing, now a level past hysterical, I could hardly gather breath for the next guffaw. My eyes were rolling madly in my head. David’s father slapped me hard, twice. I immediately stopped and resorted to crying.
David’s mother pointed at me with disgust and said with vehemence, “Get that WHORE out of my house!” She threw a long shirt at me and demanded for me to cover myself. I was so broken I couldn’t lift my head. The strength that fulfilled me earlier was gone. It was painful to cry so I just stopped and trembled deeply, breathing shallowly as I am doing now.
Journal # 7
Hetty, when the food came today, I didn’t have any energy to crawl over and eat it. Though my stomach feels as though little rats are crawling and eating at the stomach tissue, I just cannot eat. I’ve figured what they are going to do to me. David’s mother came to see me today. She refused to enter my foul cell, but I could see her through a very small slit in the wall. She looked at me with angry eyes. This is what she told me, the whole time with balled fists and a mad attitude:
“Hello young whore. Do you know what you’ve done to my son? Never shall he marry anyone. He is scorned everywhere he goes. He is no longer a man. You have killed his whole reason for living. He can’t experience pleasure, he can’t make any children… do you realize he was our only child? My husband and I are too old to make any children; our legacy dies with him…
“I have personally picked your death. Your hands will first be cut of…very…slowly…Then you will be put into a thin, but don’t worry, VERY strong, sack and thrown of a rocky cliff. You will experience the pleasure of feeling EVERY little piece of rock as you crash into it on your way down. I like to think you won’t lose consciousness until a few minutes. Now let me, let you picture that for you last day. You only have one more sunrise to live. I hope you don’t enjoy it.”
And then she left…Hetty…what am I to do? What she told me is awful, and I believe every word. So this is the last time you shall ever hear from me. Ever… please do not believe them when they say I seduced David, I DID not! He took advantage of me! I have accepted the fact that I die at sunrise tomorrow. Do not waste your tears on me. I am sure Yahweh will accept me in all my brokenness. He loves all, always remember that, dearest. You are the only one I will miss, my mother… I only have pity for her, my father… he wouldn’t even look at me the last few days he saw me. In fact, it was his decision to put my in this God forsaken Cell!
Dearest Hetty, I have a confession; I’m pregnant with David’s child. I haven’t told anyone, and I will not tell anyone. I am ashamed to say it, but I’m glad the baby doesn’t have to live in this cruel world. This is a world that crushes dreams and kills spirits. A world full of greed beyond belief and deceit too deep to imagine.
I cry as I write this, but only look forward to the blessed heavens that will accept me and my child. I cry, yes my tears run freely, but always remember, I will be watching over, and I will be once more happy. Happy as the days we played in fathers study and joy lit my eyes from finding you under his scroll desk. This is one memory I’ve always kept dear, and will be my last thoughts before I pass on… I love you dear Hetty, don’t cry for me, for I’m already gone…