Moses' Pick a Short Story of Faith and Miracles

Moses Pick

Written

By

Arielle Sag

The hot breeze blew at her long black hair. The edges of her hair just flew in the breeze of the air around her. The air was thick with heat and she wanted a cool bath in the nice stream. But that wasn’t her place to take a nice dip in the cool water; she was but a servant and a slave. The times were hard but peaceful for her. It was a better life then living out there among the others. Merriam thought to herself. The nice desert sun showered her brightly with the raze and splendor of what the Pharaoh had to offer her. She would live under his roof for the rest of her life. Merriam sighed as she dipped the jar into the stream to gulp up some of that nice cool water. She was thinking of her life and her mistress. One queen of the many queens lived within this palace of Pharaoh.

“So hot, so hot.” The big house was nothing more than a palace of delight for those that dwell in it. The queen’s house wasn’t anything fancy but just an image of fate for a queen. Their power was administered here at their own estate. Merriam pulled up the jar and placed it on her head. The queen wanted water from the stream. Such a peaceful day in the mist of terror, spoken by the Pharaoh himself. Decree, death, destruction, slavery, punishment were all under the authority of the Pharaoh. He was after all King of the land.

Her dress strapped to her body covered but her breast barely as it was a white linen garment tied with shell beads. Not much to wear, but she was lucky to have anything. Most times slaves wore nothing but shell skirt and that’s if they were lucky. Especially girls, Merriam thought to herself. The cries came from the city today was even more intense. With the decree stated by Pharaoh, no wonder there was cries. She was lucky to be female and not pregnant. She wouldn’t want to know what she do if that would happen to her. This decree was harsh. Sad, mean, despicable, was the cleanest thing she could think of at the moment for what is happening to the Jews.

She walked up the stairs back into the palace. The big house is where her mistress lived. She walked up the stairs with the cries in the background. How could they live or sleep at night? They enslave a whole population, her life included. She prayed to her God for a savior, for a life to set her free from these chains so she can be her own person. That’s what Merriam wanted. But she had gotten used to be treated like an “it”, as she called the use of her work. Then again, she could be in the field using her back to move those bricks to build. She was glad just to be a mistress and fetch things for her mistress. She doesn’t even think of her with her first name. She knew not to address her that way, so it was safer not to address her at all. This was a sad state of affairs. How could they be so …so…so…she couldn’t think of a thing. She wanted to rebel. She wanted to kill the Pharaoh. She wanted to take this jug and slam it over his head and be rid of him. That would get her killed but at the expense of what and who. She had no family that she remembered. She was useful as her mistress put it. That is what she said around her. They enslaved her, and enslaved people because they posed what she heard him say, a threat. Of coarse they do, if the Pharaoh makes them do physical labor on a constant basis then of coarse there will be uprisings. But that doesn’t mean he has to kill babies and boys. That is wrong. She could never speak her opinion and no one could. Who had the weapons? Who had the army? They did. They had everything and she made the most of what she had.

“Merriam? You have the water?” It was her mistress. She stood on the steps looking out onto the city. Her face looked grim. There were cries. She looked hurt. That puzzled Merriam. Wouldn’t she be happy? She seemed happy about his decision. Her mistress never complained to Pharaoh.

“Yes Madam.” She saw her gasp. And she walked past her. Merriam turned to see what she gasped at. She went to the stream, and for some reason Merriam was surprised to see her picking up a basket out of the water. It was a basket! How could Merriam miss it? What’s the problem with baskets, they usually carry things inside. She could only guess what was in the basket. Mistress had a son, and he would be the next Pharaoh. He was only two. This boy for it was a boy as she brought the baby up the stairs.

“He is a Jew.” Mistress stated. She looked saddened by the fact she found a boy. She looked at me, then down at the boy. Merriam knew what that meant. The boy would get killed!

“You are going to have it killed?” The baby slept soundly in mistress’s arms. Mistress looked distressed that Merriam mentioned anything like that. She kept her mouth from opening for a few seconds as if holding back a bad comment. Was it the right thing to suggest? Merriam thought her mistress was for the killing. There was no way she would save this baby. And now Merriam would have to watch the baby die. It wasn’t his fault he was a boy. It wasn’t his fault that he was born that way. So now he will die and she would have to watch. But Merriam’s mistress was rocking the baby back and forth and didn’t even look ready to kill him. Weird? She thought to herself. She just watched from the distance. A hot breeze blew her black hair from her face. That made Merriam’s face look up at the sky. Not a cloud in the sky but the breeze blew.

“I’ll call him Moses.” Mistress declared. Merriam couldn’t help but gap. She is going to keep him? But he is a Jew? A slave? Surely she wants to enslave him like all the others. Her mistress looked up at her. She was looking at her for approval of the name.

“He is a Jew mistress.” Mistress looked at her for a long moment then down at the baby boy. A bond had grown and Merriam was seeing a miracle from her ruler but would Pharaoh let one boy live out of how many. She thought not. No way would that happen. He was so against Jews and boys from growing into men. She wondered though where this caring side came from. The cries from the city echoed in the walls of the building and through Merriam’s soul. Perhaps her mistress was cracking under the pressure of so much death, or maybe she did care about the Jews and life of innocent people in general.

“I know Merriam, and my mom saved your life when you were but a baby. This is my turn to do the same. Pharaoh will be delighted to have another boy around to play with our son. So is Moses a good name?” Merriam heard the coldness, the coolness, and the frankness in her mistress’s voice as she addressed Merriam with the news flash that her life would have been terminated if it hadn’t been for her own mother. She didn’t know that. Why would she have died? Didn’t make any sense to her. They weren’t killing girls back then, what could girls do?

“The name is nice. The name is not Egyptian though, not like your son’s name.” Mistress glanced up at Merriam then back down at what she guessed would be Moses if his life were to be spared. Did Mistress have the will power and the power in general to save a life? That law that her husband had bestowed to the Jewish population meant murder to millions of innocent lives everyday that Jews are born. What if more kids washed up the stream? Will her Mistress keep everyone? That has irony if she ever heard it before.

Copyright 2006
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