I WAS MORE BY Eketi Aimé

michal despised david dancing

On meet a writer and a blogger, I had written about this beautiful lady with an excellent imaginative ability. a researcher and a writer who I feel performs magic with pen.

On May 21st,  She shared this  with her Facebook audience a peek  from her book she titled  ” LITTLE KNOWN/ MISJUDGE BIBLE CHARACTERS

For me, it is a good read and any lover of Fiction or Bible History would sure appreciate this work.

Today, am delighted to share this work with you too.

Happy reading and do have a great day…

Here is EKETI Aimé’s book peek I WAS MORE


History has been unkind, for it doesn’t remember me as I ought to be remembered. I was a daughter, a wife, a princess and more. Perhaps I should tell my story, so that you may judge between me and history.

The first day I saw him, I knew he was special. It had nothing to do with his good looks, valour in the field of battle, or the songs the women composed in his honour. Before his name came often to the lips of our people, I knew of his kindness and the softness of voice whenever he sang. He was swift, for he never failed to get out of the way of my father’s jealous wrath. His smile spoke volumes, as did his steady gaze whenever they met mine. Those eyes sent my heart on a spiralling journey to the lands unknown, places where my thoughts were incoherent and my belly was awash with heat and moving things I knew not.

“Papa, I love him,”I’d confessed that night, when my father summoned me to his chambers and inquired of my feelings for the son of Jesse.

“A shepherd-warrior,” he smirked. “Not bad for a son-in-law.” I barely heard his words, for my mind had taken flight at the mention of “son in-law.” This man who’d turned down Merab, my sister, would he want me? I hoped he would.

I had no knowledge of Papa’s trickery until much later. I tried not to think of the price my beloved paid for my hand. He killed two hundred Philistine men who did him no wrong, and stripped their dead penises of their foreskins. I did not shudder much, for he was my David and all he did was right in my eyes.

My wedding came and went; life resumed its pace and I was thrilled to be the wife of the greatest warrior in the land. I excitedly ran to the gates whenever he returned from a raid and basked in the warmth of his smile, for he had come to love me as well. The happiest part, was he and my wise, loving brother, Jonathan, were best of friends. What more could a girl ask for?

To grow up in the court of a king and always be in his favour, one must learn intrigue at a young age. It was Maacah, my old nursemaid, who first told me of the king’s plot to kill David. When he returned home that night and we lay in each other’s arms, I told him of my father’s plans. He smiled, kissed my forehead and said I wasn’t to worry.

“Jonathan has warned me, but I think it’s just the evil spirit that torments His Majesty and nothing more,” he said. “As long as I play my music, he’ll be fine.”

Not long after, Papa’s anger burned against David and that night, when it was certain that the disguised palace guards who camped opposite our house were not there for our protection, I took my silken veils and tied them in a long rope.

“Let me come with you,”I begged.

“No, my love. I don’t know where I will go and you shouldn’t suffer on my account. I will return for you,” he promised as he softly kissed my lips. My last glimpse of his lovely face was through a veil of tears.

“May the Lord go with you,”I prayed, as I let him down through the window and watched him escape into the silent night.

History does not tell of the shame I bore afterwards. I, the daughter of a king, had michaldefied him and let his enemy escape. I was to be punished, and neither my mother, nor Jonathan could plead on my behalf.

The months passed and I spent the days weeping and pining, waiting for some secret messenger to arrive and whisk me away to my David. Autumn came and I heard he was in Ramah. Winter passed and there were whispers that he’d fled to Nob, home of the priests. Papa heard, went there with his troops and committed a terrible abomination. He killed all of the Lord’s servants, for they had helped David.

When he returned, enraged at losing his prey, I was summoned to the palace courts. There, in spite of my pleas, he collected another bride price—this time, from Paltiel ben Laish of Gallim.

“That’s your new husband,” he said coldly to me then turned to him and said, “Take her away—I never want to see her face again.”
My scream of anguish echoed through the walls of the palace as I was banished me from the court forever.

A never-ending agony.
Have you felt this before—pain so undiluted, that it rips your insides into tortured shreds of constant fierce aching? Have you ever felt your heart break into a thousand pieces, a thousand times each day, and prayed that if you fell asleep, you’d awake to find life to be a dream? Have you awakened at night and begged Yahweh, that the next time your eyes would shut themselves in slumber, it would be forever?
That was my life.

Three years came and went. I buried my heart and hope. David was never
going to send for me and I knew that I would never love another as I had loved that son of Jesse.
Paltiel adored me; he said so and all his actions showed it. As each new moon merged into another, my sorrow lessened under the gentle and soothing touch of his love. I learned to return a measure of my husband’s affection and longed to bear him sons. Each year, I went up to the mountains to sacrifice, I asked the Lord God for a child. If not for me, at least for my husband, for he was a good man.

It didn’t matter to me that my father still sought the death of Jonathan’s best friend. I did not care when I heard that he’d taken Abigail of Carmel as his wife, nor did I flinch when he added Ahinoam of Jezreel. The knifing pain that lanced through my heart at that news was because I ate a bad meal; it couldn’t be because I felt anything for the son of Jesse. He was dead to me.

Sometimes, hope is a terrible thing. For it keeps itself alive by playing dead under the layers of life’s torment and constant crushing, but merely waiting for a chance to awaken.
I was mourning Jonathan; I wasted no tears on the king. Paltiel comforted me as best as he could, but nothing could end my grief. Or so I thought.

“They say Abner has sent for David, that he’s going to be crowned king,”Paltiel said gruffly, as we sat around the dining mound, eating our evening meal. My hand stilled over the platter of broiled potatoes and I silently stared down at my food for a moment.

“How is that my concern?” I asked, my voice a tad sharp. “We have no business with the house of Jesse.”
When he didn’t give an immediate reply, I looked up. Tears were slipping down my husband’s cheeks. Quickly, I wiped my hand on the washcloth and hurried to his side.

“What is it, my love? Why do you weep so?” I asked, worried. My Paltiel was a simple man, given to showing the content of his heart, but in all our six years together, I’d never seen him cry.

“He….they said, he’s asking for you,” he sobbed.
My heart stopped. Then resumed beating with a furious rhythm.

“He…he what?”I stuttered. That moment, I felt hope stir.
Paltiel sniffed hard and pulled up his shoulders. “It is said that he’s told Abner ben Ner that he will only reign over Israel, if you’re brought back…to him.”

I sank to my haunches. I did not want my husband thinking that I wanted the son of Jesse, but I couldn’t quickly reassure him, for my mind was in turmoil. Why? Why now? What did he want?

“You,”a voice in my head whispered. It was the voice of Hope.

“Fret not, husband. I shall not go with him,” I assured.

And yet, that night as we made love and afterwards, when I lay my head on his chest and listened to his soft breathing, I couldn’t sleep. The pictures of years long-buried were resurrected and played a ceaseless stream of memories in my head.
When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of silken ropes, strong arms and a fine young man named David.

Worse than love lost, is hope raised and then cruelly shattered.

The sounds of festivities rang out all around me, but I sat in my chambers, alone. Their gaiety and happiness made my stomach clench and I wished to rail at someone. Something. Anything.

Not for the first time, my thoughts went to the one man who’d truly loved me. Paltiel. I wondered how he fared, if he’d eaten this noon or fed the sheep or was lying in his room just like me. Or could he be outside, jubilating with that crowd? For a moment, I was tempted to go out and seek his face among the throng of Israel’s people.
Tears smarted my eyes as I recalled the day I was taken away from him, how he’d followed behind Abner’s guards, sobbing brokenly, begging to speak with the king, asking him to let me go. I was too ashamed to look at him then, for my heart had looked forward to seeing the only man I’d given it to. When Abner ordered him to go back, pointing his sword for good measure, I’d looked up at last as I waved goodbye, I’d cried.

Outside, the shouting rose to a deafening din. Giving in to temptation, I ran to the nearest window and pulled aside the Persian tapestry that shielded the room from the sun’s harsh rays. The king was coming up the palace courtyard, dressed in nothing but a sheath of cotton cloth. Ahead of him, the Levites bore the Ark of Covenant and around them, the people danced, waving their palm fronds and singing to the Lord.

As I watched him come up those steps, my heart twisted with hate. David ben Jesse had never loved me and he’d taken me from the only man who did, simply because he’d paid a hundred foreskins to the king. As soon as I’d arrived at the palace, my hopes of a glorious reunion had been dashed. I found that he had no use for me as a woman, a wife….for I’d become another man’s and was unfit for the king.

The years had changed nothing; I’d been a political pawn in my father’s hand in order to bring about David’s ruin and now, he was using me too. The ties of marriage to the House of Saul, ensured that Israel and Judah would be united under him. The women of the palace mocked me and I had no allies. I couldn’t bear children; not for Paltiel and not for David. I was truly alone.
I stood at that window and wished I’d never been born the daughter of a king.

History records that I scorned the king for dressing and dancing like a commoner. It glosses over those hurtful words his said to me; that God chose him over my father, my loving and wise Jonathan and anyone in my family. He, who was surrounded by his wives, concubines, children, brothers and parents, mocked me who had no one.

History speaks as if the Lord shut my womb because I spoke truth. He did not. And even if he did, I am glad that I bore no offspring for a man in whose eyes I was nothing, but the means to an end.
History says I had an angry and sour personality. Would you not, if you’d walked in my shoes?

History tells of Michal, the embittered wife, who despised the king.

I tell you: I was more.1229960_391842297583249_994738175_n


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