The Hour Before

“Samson, come back to bed.”

“Don’t the stars look beautiful.” Samson turned from the open window and saw her lying under the blanket half-naked. “Although, not as beautiful as you.”

He lingered near the window another minute listening to the quiet steps just outside. Turning to look at the stars just another second, he heard the distinct sound of heavy breathing. On the horizon, lightning lit up the clouds. A storm dawned. He took a step then couldn’t help the laughter as he walked over to the bed. Some things don’t change.

“Tell me,” Delilah’s voice trembled as she tried to say his name but couldn’t. “Tell me.”

She fought back tears, causing the blanket to fall a little bit more. Samson caught the blanket and lifted it up as his eyes darted toward the open window.

“Please, tell me.” She steadied her voice, “What is the secret to your strength that a man might subdue you?”

“Did you know my birth was prophesied by an angel?” Seeing her face, his laughter sounded like the distant thunder. “Not since Abraham’s sons has that happened.”

“Is that why you stay here in Sorek Valley?”

“Yes,” Samson practically shouted, “because if the Philistines are to come into Israel, rather than gather an army, I am here to keep them out. Have I not the strength of an entire army already! Have I not killed the thousands?”

“Why do you shout?” Delilah whispered, looking at the window.

“Why do you think?” Samson whispered back with a knowing smile.

“Tell me, please, what is the secret of your strength?”

“Did I not tell you?”

“You told me lies,” Delilah said looking down. Unable to help the hurt inside. If he were honest, she would know he loved her completely. If he were honest, he would be dead.

“I told you what you wanted to hear because you do not want to know the truth.”

“How do you know what I want?”

“I was rasher in my youth. Now that I am older, I am wise. I see things more clearly.”

“You were a fool then.”

“Maybe I fear the fool is all that my people will remember me by.”

Delilah turned toward the window. “Are you not one now? Will you not give another riddle to the Philistines?”

“Ah, yes. The riddle. I was in love then. I was arrogant, yes. I had killed. But you see I am not supposed to touch anything that is dead. I am a Nazarite – dedicated to the Lord from before my birth.”

“And you did not lose your strength?”

“No. I did not.”

“Why not?”

“Jehovah does as he wishes. He is not bound by anything except maybe who he chooses to use.” Samson’s eyes stared into the empty room, holding onto this thought a little longer than he wanted.

“And what is it your God wishes?”

Samson forced a smile and lowered his head. He pressed his lips together and fought to keep his eyes from closing, but when he did, he saw her. A tear pressed through his closed lids, and he took a staggered breath, putting his arms around Delilah and letting out a small sigh.

“What are you thinking of?”

“I was married once. A long time ago. Her name was Timnah. She was so beautiful.”

“You loved her?”

He nodded.

“What happened to her?”

“You know. I know you do.”

“I want you to say it.”

“To hurt me?” Samson took another staggered breath.

“To see that history has its way in repetition.”

“You see that’s what’s so funny.” His hand caressed Delilah’s face. “I loved Timnah from the second I saw her. Much like I love you. My parents didn’t approve. Her family didn’t approve. The Philistines didn’t approve. Israel didn’t approve."

“Then why marry her?”

“The Lord approved. He moved my heart. I wanted peace. Things were quiet. I spent a long time out in the wilderness doing the Lord’s work and no one thinks to even remember it. They remember me for my shame. They make me a parable for the children.”

“And what is your shame?”

“Groups of men, Philistines, came threatening. My wife was there, my family, her family. So, I told them a riddle to stave off the potential bloodshed.”

“The lion and the honey.”

Samson laughed, “Yes, you see you do listen to my stories.”

“Of course I do.” She leaned in, unable to help the little laughter as her fingers caressed across his chest. “I always do. But the riddle is not fair, how are they to know such a thing? Have bees ever made a home in a lion before that or since?”

“I was arrogant, but also, the lion was on the road. They passed it. I knew they had been blind by their rage for me that they didn’t see it. If they were thinking clearly, they would know it right away. The riddle was for me, not for them.”

“What do you mean?”

Samson looked down. His eyes felt heavy. Sometimes there was never enough sleep. “You see, if they were walking friendly, they would’ve seen it. They weren’t. The riddle distracted them. Saved my wife, at least for a while.”

“They killed her.”

“Yes. They used her. They lied to her. And when they were done, they killed her because they couldn’t kill me.”

Samson reached out one of his large fingers and wiped a tear from Delilah’s cheek. As the tears started coming, he leaned in and kissed them. He held her tightly as his last sentence echoed between the two of them.

“What….” Delilah tried but grew silent when his voice shushed her.

Samson looked out the window. Shadows danced in the glow of the fire. Thunder began to rumble closer with a few trickles of rain.

“You think I’m a fool?”

Delilah didn’t dare speak.

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.” Just above a whisper. “I do. Do you love me?”

“Yes. I’ve been alone since my wife was taken from me. It is hard to be alone and unmarried. The Philistines wish to seek out every one of my weaknesses, but they all end up the same way.”

“Then why not go back to Israel? Why stay here?”

“Because I do not wish to leave you, and you will not leave your family.”

“You know what will happen if I leave my family.”

“I do.”

“Then why taunt me? They will be killed the second we leave.”

Thunder rumbled again and Samson looked over on the small table where a sword lay. He stared at it having already decided he was tired of yielding it. The only weakness of his God, he considered, was who he chose to use.

“Tell me,” Delilah tried, “Please, what is the secret to your strength. It is not bowstrings or fresh ropes.”

“The secret is that I’m strong because of the Lord’s will. There is nothing that can change that.”

Delilah wept. “Then who will save me?”

“It would do no good to try to kill them all. The bloodshed would absorb you and them. They would all need to be in one place and even then, I fear it wouldn’t be enough. If I wage war, then surely, you and yours will be caught up in it.”

“I don’t want their money. I’m sorry. I don’t want any of it. I don’t know what to do. What do I do?” Delilah’s words tumbled out.

Samson kissed her. “Cut my hair. It is long because of the Nazarite vow.”

“No.”

Samson laughed and then whispered, “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to lose your strength.”

“I won’t.”

“I don’t want them to kill you.”

“Do you think I have followed the Nazarite vow since birth?” When she said nothing, he smiled, “I have touched the dead. It happens when you kill so many. I touched the lion carcass when I was young because even then I did not want to be a judge of Israel, I wanted a quiet life. God did not permit that. Then I drank wine. Nothing. I sinned with a prostitute. And even that, God used it as a time for me to kill more Philistines.”

“Then your strength will not leave you?”

“No, lover.”

“Then what good will it be to cut your hair?”

“The Jews should’ve left me in the cave at Etam. It would’ve been better than having committed all this bloodshed. Did you know God heard the blood calling out from Abel when his brother killed him?”

Delilah said nothing.

“Yes, I too have heard the cry from all the blood I have shed.”

“What are you thinking, my clever man?”

“I will be weak. I will let them think I am weak. I will let them kill me. Maybe in my weakness, God’s true strength might be seen.”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“Will they not kill you to get to me? Will they not kill your family? There is no other way. I cannot bear the thought of having my love killed. Not again. I’ve served my purpose to free Israel. I cannot bear anymore the death, the bloodshed upon my soul.”

“No.” just above a whisper Delilah whimpered.

“Here, take this knife, cut my hair.”

Delilah’s hands trembled as she lifted the knife. “I can’t.”

Samson grabbed her wrist and steadied it. She dropped the knife. Samson steadied her, then turned toward the window. The shadows moved again.

“They will give you money. Go tonight. They will be distracted because they will have me. Take your family. Take the money. Travel to the tabernacle in Israel. They will not let you in but plead to see a scribe. Tell them what has happened. Tell them their judge is dead. They must know what has happened.”

“They will see me, a woman, a Philistine. They will not believe me.”

Samson couldn’t help the laughter, “They will make you out to be a whore and me out to be a fool. Maybe that’s okay. It is better for them to preserve their pride. Let them. Do your service, my love. Let them know I am not wandering the border anymore protecting them. They are on their own.”

“And what do I tell them?”

“God is weary of them. God doesn’t care if they miss a sacrifice or a duty. God wants them to seek his face. God wants them to depend on him,” Samson said, leaning back and waving his hand in a circular motion. “I don’t know. Maybe try to come up with something better.”

“Is it better for one to perish than a whole nation?”

“Yes,” Samson said firmly.

“How will I know what happened to you?”

“They will take me to their temple. I will pull the pillars out from under them. Stand on the mountain and watch. If you see the temple fall, know I have protected you as much as I have protected all of Israel.”

“Am I worth dying for?”

“Yes, my love. You are worth more than all of Israel to me. That it is my joy to die for you. Do you not see? Do you not know?”

“I can’t cut your hair.”

Samson held his hair and cut it. He kissed the tears coming down her cheek. Thunder rumbled outside as the rain pelted louder.  

“Now, say it as you have before.”

“Sa…” Delilah’s voice trembled.

“Samson,” Samson shouted in a false falsetto, “The Philistines are here.”

Delilah wept, clenching strands of hair in her hand.

Kris Green lives in Florida with his beautiful wife and two savage children. He’s been published over 60 times in the last few years by the wonderful people at Nifty Lit, The Haberdasher: Peddlers of Literary Art, In Parentheses Magazine, Route 7 Review, BarBar Magazine, and many more. He won the 2023 Barbe Best Short Story and Reader’s Choice Award for his short story, “Redemption”. He has regular nonfiction articles being published by Solid Food Press on fatherhood entitled: “On Raising Savages”.

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