THE UNTOLD STORY OF SAMSON & DELILAH
NOT YOUR CHILDREN'S BIBLE STORY
NOVELLA - NOW AVAILABLE
The Nazarite spins the tale of the great strongman and biblical hero—Samson. Able to slay a lion with his bare hands, defeat an army of one-thousand strong with the jawbone of an ass, lift the mighty Gates of Gaza, plus many more captivating triumphs. It’s a fantastic story of great and outrageous feats, accompanied with an intriguing love affair between Samson the Israelite and Delilah the Philistine. It was this compelling relationship that has raised many brows and questions.
Why did Samson share his sacred secret with the vixen—Delilah? A secret so dear, that his life depended upon keeping it private. Yet he confides to Delilah, and by doing so is taken captive by his people’s existential enemy. His eyes are gored out and is sentenced to be sacrificed to the Philistine god—Dagon.
Can we imagine Delilah, armed with nothing more than her exquisite beauty, and cunning deceit, enticing the lustful Samson by luring him beyond the boundaries of their intimacy? Why else would the Nazarite give up the key to his great strength, unless enticed by forbidden, erotic desires?
The novella is written through the eyes of Samson, and a Philistine scribe—Mizar, who’s given the task of writing upon parchment the events of Samson's incredible life.
Sneak Peek - The Nazarite
Chapter 1 - The Scribe
“Argh!” I cried out.
“Silence!” the guard demanded.
What felt like a spike being driven into my skull was nothing more than the creaking of the prison cell door swinging open.
“Who goes there?” I groaned, though I should have stayed silent, as every word I spoke compounded my pain.
“Settle down you scum,” the guard barked.
“There’s no need to get yourself worked up Samson,” a friendly sounding voice said. “I’m the court scribe Mizar. I’ve been appointed by our Lord to set down, for the record, your life in words.”
“Pfft, he’s not my lord,” I insisted, removing the bloody rag covering the holes where my eyes once dwelled.
Ignoring my belligerence, Mizar said, “You can put the desk and chair over there, close to his bunk.”
With both my sight and strength taken from me, I swung my legs around to sit up. Then with all the power I could muster, I pressed my hands onto my knees and rose. Breathing heavily, I took a blind man’s awkward step toward the intruder’s voice and asked, “What desk?”
A heavy hand landed upon my chest, forcing me to stop.
“It’s okay Samson, I’m not here to harm you,” Mizar said.
“What do you want from me?”
“You poor man,” Mizar said, placing a gentle hand on my bearded cheek. “It’s true what they say—your eyes are gone.”
I smacked his hand away, and stumbled backwards, nearly losing my balance.
“What have you done to him?” Mizar asked, gripping my arm to prevent me from falling.
“What he deserved,” the guard growled.
“They gouged out my eyes with a blacksmith’s poker,” I said.
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GALLERY OF THE NAZARITE
