This is written in a modern setting.
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“Delilah, the city Lords are here to see you.” Those words had marked the point of no return for her, Delilah thought; as she hugged her knees to her chest, that sunny afternoon.
She was supposed to be napping, but sleep had eluded her, so, she had decided to find comfort under the cool shade of the beautiful Fig tree in her father’s compound. The words of her not-so-clandestine meeting with the city Lords still rung in her ears.
After getting over her initial shock that the Philistine Lords wanted to see her, right there in her father’s house, she had finally realized it had to be about one thing only, and she wasn’t disappointed. His name was Samson.
She had hoped her liaison with Samson was secret, but gushing to one’s best friend about the handsome but supernaturally strong Israelite she was seeing, turned out to be a bad idea, because soon, the whole city of Gaza knew she was seeing Samson.
His reputation had preceded him, long before they met. If you wanted to scare the average Philistine child, all you had to do was tell him that Samson would get him, and you would see the fear in the child’s eyes. He was notorious and stories of his temper and strength were published on the Philistine gossip blog daily. Unfortunately, his escapades with Philistine women made him the heartthrob of many girls that wished to rebel against their parents’ will.
She could still remember the first day she met him. She had been on her way back from commiserating with a family friend that lost their crops to Samson’s burning spree. The rumours said he burned the fields because his Father-in-law had given his wife to another man. His anger was understandable, but his actions were too irrational to be considered sane.
Her shoes had finally cut, after years of wearing them, and being unable to get new pairs. Samson found her stewing and soliloquizing by a bush path that could lead her straight to her house. She had been hostile towards him, but she didn’t know how it happened, she had ended up being charmed by his smile and his suave words. They exchanged contact, and the rest became history.
“Don’t be so selfish Delilah.” Mother’s voice had said.
“Selfish?” Delilah bristled. “How am I being selfish?”
Mother did not turn around as she kneaded flour for the night bread. “You know we need that money they have offered you.”
“But Mama…”
“Don’t Mama me!” Mother snapped.
“That is blood money. Do you think Dagon approve of blood money?”
Her mother snorted, still focused on the dough. “Dagon and his priests feed on blood money.”
“So, you want me to betray Samson?” Delilah asked. “Manoah and his wife are just beginning to accept me as their son’s girlfriend, and you want me to betray that trust by giving up their son’s secret of power? You know what the Lords will do to him. They’ll blind him and make him work in humiliating positions.”
“Our lives are humiliating.” Her mother finally turned around. “Your brother was just an innocent boy that enjoyed playing cards with his friend, yet Samson killed him with the jawbone of a donkey during a moment of rage.”
Delilah was silent. She knew a secret part of her resented Samson for that singular act, but he had sworn to make it up to her for the rest of his life. She should have forgiven him, shouldn’t she?
“Tell me Delilah, what do you think will happen to us, if you don’t do as they ask? Maybe they’ll spare your father, but do you think we, the women have the luxury of saying no to men, here in Philistia?”
Delilah shook her head. She knew what the consequences would be; not just to her, but to her family also.
“If the money they’re offering us isn’t enough incentive for you, then remember your brother. Don’t let his death and the death of many more Philistines be in vain.”
“But…” Delilah’s voice cracked. “We enslaved them.”
“Yet, we are the ones that need to be delivered from them.” Her mother sighed before turning back to the rising dough. “Deliver us, Delilah. Please.”
As Delilah remembered the proceedings of the afternoon, she sniffed, wiped her tears, and finally brought out her phone to text Samson. They had a lot to talk about.
Delilah eyed the cup of water in Samson’s outstretched hand. She looked at him with a frown, and he took the cup back, while clearing his throat awkwardly.
“You look very beautiful today, my love.” His gruff voice whispered to her.
She smiled inwardly, knowing that her extra layer of makeup and tight gown had paid off. She couldn’t let him know that his compliment had pleased her though. When she remained silent and reluctant to respond, Samson sighed and came closer to her.
Taking her smaller hands in is bigger ones, he said. “Are you still angry, my love?”
Delilah scoffed. “Love? How can you look at me and lie so smoothly? You know, when they said you Israelites were liars, I didn’t believe it.” She maintained the frown. “Until now.”
Anger flashed in Samson’s eyes, but it was gone before Delilah could decipher the expression. “You know I love you, Dee. You know I do.”
“Then prove it.” Delilah took her hands from his. “Tell me what the source of your power is.”
“Why does it matter to you so bad?” Samson stood up.
“Because you have asked me to be your wife and I don’t even know this little bit of information about you.” Her voice broke steadily, as she began to cry. “Each time I try to see if you’re telling me the truth, you wake up and you’re still as strong as ever.”
“Dee.” Samson’s eyes implored. “Try to understand my position.
Delilah stood up to, taking her handbag with her. “Look Samson, I can’t deal with you being unable to trust me. I think it’s high time we separated. It’s either me or the secret. You can’t keep us both.”
Panic flashed on Samson’s face. “Please Delilah. Don’t leave me. You know I love you.”
“And I love you too, but you don’t trust me. Why are we together, then?”
“Hmmm.” Samson sighed audibly. He motioned towards the seat she had just vacated, and she got the hint.
When Delilah was seated again, Samson began. “What do you know about Nazirites?”
“I’m a Philistine, not one of your people.” Delilah deadpanned.
“Sorry, I sometimes forget you’re not one of us yet. You have adapted so beautifully, my love.”
Delilah faked a smile for him. “So, you are a Nazirite?”
“Yes.” Samson nodded. “When she was pregnant with me, my mother couldn’t drink wine or eat anything unclean, and after I was born, I have never stepped feet in a barbing salon. I am dedicated to the Lord.”
“Woah.” Delilah exclaimed with wide eyes. “I know your hair is long and amazing, but, are you saying that they’re the source of your strength?”
“Yes.”
Standing up, Delilah stared at the locks of hair on Samson’s head with reverence. She slowly sashayed towards him, ensuring her hips swayed seductively within the confines of the tight dress. When she got to him, she ran her fingers through the silky mane on his head.
“So luxurious and silky.” She whispered to him.
“Have you forgiven me now?” He asked her.
“More than you can ever imagine.” Was her quiet reply.
Samson and Delilah. Mexican artist José Salomé Pina captures Delilah’s betrayal in his painting from 1851. “After putting him to sleep on her lap, she called for someone to shave off the seven braids of his hair, and so began to subdue him,” reads Judges 16:19. Image by Gianni Dagli Orti, REX/Shutterstock
Delilah couldn’t eat, and her stomach turned at the sight of the greasy foods in front of her. She could not even fake a smile, even though people would kill to be in her position. She was dressed in the best gown money could get, jewels, and she had the latest IPhone sitting in her small clutch. She was seated between the five Philistine Lords, on the highest dais.
Delilah could find no reason to celebrate. They were thankful to Dagon for delivering Samson, their sworn enemy into their hands, but Delilah knew the celebration was too presumptuous. When she had gone to spy on Samson at the mill in Prison, she had been horrified to see the speed with which his locks returned to his head.
The sudden roar of the crowd jolted her out of her reverie. She craned her neck to see what had caused the ruckus, and a chill went through her to discover it was Samson. The Lords had ordered someone to lead him out of prison, so he could provide amusement for the drunk Lords and rowdy crowd.
Samson’s face slowly found its way to Delilah, even though the lids were shut against an empty socket. It was almost as if he knew she was there. His closed lids drilled heat onto Delilah’s body, and she could read the contempt on his face. But, there was also something else on his face.
She could read the resignation. Delilah could almost predict what would happen next, but her body remained immobile, as she willed herself to stand and run for her life. She was still staring transfixed at the man, as he rested himself against the pillars that held the frame of the building.
She sat there still, even when the sound of chaos began. She wouldn’t move, when she felt the dais tremble, and the pillars groaning. She was frozen, and she needed freedom.
“Deliver us.” She whispered, as she stared on, at the blind man that had loved her blindly, even when he had eyes.
AAAAND, that’s it. So, did you enjoy it? Let me know in the comments.
Love,
