Notes

UNDER THE SWELTERING WRATH OF RA, one girl's eyes told a story of both ambition and destiny. A future in which a slave's words would dance off their thirsty lips with the same value as the touch of a Goddess.

Each cut between her toe, a timeframe of how long she’s been away from home.
Each Droplet of sweat rolling down her temple, a thought that’s been sealed away to the unknown.
And each raspy breath escaping her lips, a prayer sent to the man who knew them in the womb.

One woman among the rest followed beside the girl, worry marring her features. “Priestess, you must not overexert yourself. As someone who has seen death leave all my children’s eyes, I will not allow you to follow the same fate.” She pled. The rope moved when she raised her hand to ______ her frustration.

Asherah weakly sought to hold the old woman’s hand. She understood her inner suffering with each of their deaths. All were during the night when the moon was at its fullest. Her father, Jabir, prayed as the old woman cradled the oldest to her youngest drowning them with her tears.

“They are with Yahweh now, waiting in bliss for their mother.”




“My brown skin carries the revolutions of my people that were silenced, I will be its voice.”
















CHAPTER ONE: A lilypad among the lotuses

UNDER THE SWELTERING WRATH OF RA, one girl's eyes told a story of both ambition and destiny. A future in which a slave's words would dance off their thirsty lips with the same value as the touch of a Goddess.

The little girl's eyes remained fixated on the silhouette of the slaves. With a heavy sigh, she sank into the sand and whispered a prayer for strength.

Uneasy, an old woman from her neighboring village touched her hand, bare of the colorful sleeves. "Priestess, you must not overexert yourself. As someone who has seen life leave all my children's eyes, I will not allow you to follow the same fate."

Asherah looked down at the old woman's hand on hers and maneuvered her tied one over. "Follower, we must pray every second of the day. And may our cries reach Yahweh's ears." She said confidently. "Our faith must never waver. There may be times in which we blame him, but remember, Yahweh will always be with us."

The frail woman eyed Asherah, admiration adding to her relief. "Thank you, Priestess."

The fate of death lingered in her mind. She touched her lips, fear slicing into her, deep. If only I could believe the words I speak.

Asherah touched her pale, worn face, her tan color diminished by extreme hunger, and saw everyone's desperation.