Ezra Azra--Murder, Past-Future-Present

‘Thus saith the Lord God Jehovah to David, Wherefore hast thou murdered Uriah the Hittite?’ King James Bible.

It was in the midst of a war battle. Soldiers fighting to the death everywhere. There was a lull in the fighting.

David, in battle dress, limped into view, helped by a soldier. The soldier had a sword; David did not. The soldier helped David to sit on the ground.

This is good, soldier. Leave me here. Return to the battle.

Sir,---

I am safe here. I know this area. Go. I will wait here until you return.

The soldier left. David set about making himself comfortable. A woman entered. She was dressed and armed as a male soldier, helmeted. David saw her. He took her to be a male soldier.

You are Philistine. I surrender. I am unarmed.

David Judah?

Good. You know who I am. I am worth a king's ransom.

Uh-uh. Not yet. King Saul is yet around. One king at a time.

Nonetheless, to Philistine enemy or Israelite, king Saul will pay him. Dead or alive, I imagine. High Priest, Samuel, said I am to be anointed by my God to be the king of His people. Your Philistine God, Ashtaroth, will not look kindly on you for killing a God's intended. Gods honour Gods, you know. Soldier.

She ignored his warning. She walked about slowly, looking the place over. She spoke softly, mainly to herself, but loud enough for him to hear.

Hmh, a lot more tree cover. Has not been used in a while.

She turned to him, and took off her helmet, and shook her long hair loose. They looked at each other; she with a slight smile; he in speechless amazement.

Sheba? No! Really?

Hello, Sheppy.

You are fighting for the Philistines?

Only to get near to you, Davie, my love.

What? Ran out of witchy spells, my love? Down and dirty with us mortal cockroaches, huh?

It's more fun slaughtering Philistine soldiers to get to you, lover boy.

Sheba, lovely, you could have joined up with us and had us much fun slaughtering Philistines side-by-side with me.

O, come now, Davy. Have you forgotten how I hate to be on the righteous side?

They looked at each other for a few silent seconds, each smilingly recalling happy wicked memories.

It has been years, Sheba. You look lovelier than ever. Not a day older than eighteen.

Liar. If that were true, you would not have run away without telling me.

Strange. Now that you mention it. Why did I run off? We had a good racket going.

They stared at each other; she, piercingly into his eyes.

Davie, really? You do not remember?

Yes. I really do not, woman; lovelier than ever.

At the time, I guessed that High Priest had something to do with it.

Samuel?

I don't know. I try to not remember the Temple holy kind.

Your guess was right. He was definitely up to something.
We already had a king, but he anointed me to be a second king.

He anointed you?

Uh-huh.

With holy oil?

Uh-huh.

Then that was it! The holy oil made you inaccessible to me. Put a whole world between us. That old goat knew precisely what he was doing. He was using really holy oil, made holy by some real God. That's the only way it could have mesmerized us out of each other’s life.

Sheba, then why are you here, now? Holy oil never wears off.

A memory exploded within David.

Holy golden cow!

What, Shep?

Samuel's dead! The spell is broken! That's why you are here, Sheba!

Really? The holy oil had an expiry date?

Because Samuel is dead! That must be it!

They were silent for seconds, surveying each other, each enjoying their own unholy thoughts about each other. She walked up closer to him, and spoke seductively.

So, if I touch the anointed king right now, I will not explode into non sentient dust forever?

You want to give it a shot? I'm game.

Of course you are. You are not at risk.

Tsk, tsk. That does not sound like the wild devil-may-care Sheba I recall.

First things first, lover. When you chose to run out on me, we were in the middle of plotting the demise of someone.

Really?

Really.

Who?

I don't remember the details. You hated him, for whatever reason. You wanted me to help you murder him with a demon-witch spell; leave no forensic trail.

Sheba, that was horrible. I'm glad I do not remember any of that. Let's forget it. There is a war going on around us. Help me slaughter Philistines. I’ll take all the demon-witch spells you can conjure up.

There is something weird happening here, Davy. Don’t you feel it?

There is nothing weird about war, Sheba. It's simple; kill or be killed. I recall you telling me something like that about life itself.

Davy, I'm immortal. Virtually and, or really.

Yes. Yes. Of course, Sheba. I believe you, because you are so perfectly beautiful. God, Sheba, so beautiful.

I never forget anything I do.

Okay. I can believe that, too.

Davy, then why do I not recall a name of whom we were plotting to kill?

They stared at each other; he, perplexed; she, concerned.

David said, hesitantly and softly, Sheba, we loved playing ‘say suppose’ pranks. We could have made him up. Remember Goliath? I still meet people who congratulate me as if I really used a slingshot to kill that Philistine oaf on steroids.

Even a prank, Davy. I would remember even a prank. I remember playing that oaf on steroids as if it happened yesterday. Just as I remember our tattoo prank. I picked a spot on you, and you picked a spot on me.

I have a tattoo on me made by you?

See? That's how it was meant to be. It's in a place only I can see.

And on you, in a place only I can see?

Uh-huh. And if anyone else sees them, the tattoos will seem as natural birthmarks.

They looked steadily at each other: she naughtily; he somewhat embarrassedly.

I give up.

You are not going to believe the possibility that is occurring to me.

Right now, Sheba, I will believe anything you say. But say it fast because my soldier intuition says something dangerous is coming this way.

Sheppy, I think the name of the person we were planning to kill, eludes us, because that person did not exist.

If that person did not exist, why are we remembering that we tried to kill that person?

Because we are killing persons all the time during this war.

Still does not make sense. Why would killing in the present trigger a memory of killing in the past that did not happen?

Simple answer. In us, the same wiring serves past, present and future. It's common for the wiring of any two to intertwine, naturally and safely, in a crisis. Right now we are in the middle of a crisis. The wiring of all three are in a tangle.

The past and present are projecting a future?

Yes. Why not? We are yet to commit the murder of that person whose name eludes us.

Both of them were, for long seconds, transfixed in awe.

Sheba, you have access to supernatural powers.

Yes, if, when, I can, if I want to make supernatural effort.

Then, please, Sheba, let's choose to not prank-murder Uriah, the Hittite, in the future.

Uriah, the Hittite? Who is he?

I don't know. The name just tumbled out of my mouth.