The Donkey and The Angel

Numbers Fiction: Balak

The Donkey and The Angel

Bilaam, Donkey and Angel

A thin haze covered the fortified city of Damascus. Dozens of stone chimneys belched the smoke of cooking ovens into the morning sky. The slapping of sandals on old stone mixed with the sounds of hooves and creaking wagon wheels. Clanging metal and the hollering of early market hagglers created a cacophony of sound. The smell of stale bread, rotting apples and unwashed bodies filled the air. Five horses followed by three donkeys, all with riders, exited the heavy gates of Damascus. They trotted rapidly southward on the Bashan road. On either side of the road were golden fields of wheat, barley and spelt.

The five horses were beautiful Egyptian stallions, all of a deep chestnut color. Their riders wore bejeweled Moabite robes. One of the donkeys was a white, neatly combed jenny with a shiny black harness. Her rider was an ancient wiry man in flowing black robes. The jenny was followed by two dull colored jacks each with a servant in a grey tunic.

“Finally we’re out of that dreadful city,” Chamra the white jenny brayed to Abot and Kostel, the two jacks behind her.

[the rest of this story, is available by agreement, at]

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