Desired The Untold Story of Samson and D - By Ginger Garrett



I am not going to tell you my name.

I stood face-to-face with an angel of God, and after that, I could not remember my own name for days. When I die, there will only be one name on my lips. It will not be my own.

I will tell you of Samson, my son. One last tale, to be my mitzvah, my righteous deed, a true tale in this false world. I will tell my story, and his. I will speak for the dead.

I will tell you of men and angels, of sons and sorrows. I will tell you of the courage required to wait upon a silent God. I will tell you of the strongest man to ever walk the earth, and of what proved mightier than his strength. For the strength of a man cannot save anyone, not even himself.

But come. The hour is later than you know, and even now, in death, I must share my son with others. Do not tarry with them long. Come to me as quickly as you can.

I will begin my story with a tale about breasts, where all good tales probably begin.




Late spring in the Philistine city of Timnah, near the Mediterranean Sea

Mother and Father sat in the doorway, drinking bowls of wine and greeting passersby. The entire Philistine city of Timnah was wandering about. No work had been done. We celebrated the first sight of the Pleiades stars in the heavens, marking the beginning of the wheat harvest season. Everyone in Timnah owned a field, whether it be large or small. Timnah was famous throughout the Valley of Sorek for our grapes, olives, and barley, but most especially our wheat. Our wheat proved so soft that when ground, little leavening was needed. We claimed that the wheat was so light, it lifted itself. Everything grown here in the valley was good. We loved the land and the land loved us, yielding herself up, giving us happy lives and full stomachs.

Many marriages had taken place today. Not proper marriages of property, like the ones my father would someday arrange for Astra and me. These were marriages of men to men, marriages that were said to be the ultimate test of manhood. I did not argue their reasoning—the belief that one man could be so virile, even another man would desire him. My people had always honored passion in whatever form it took. We understood that men married other men for prestige. Men married women for labor and children.

Some men, like my father, had no interest in proving their manhood. He contented himself with my mother. We still loved Father a great deal. He had to prove nothing to us. I didn’t even feel sorry for my mother; that’s how much he loved us. She must have envied other wives, whose husbands took men in marriage and earned respect at the city gates. But whatever envy or discontent she suffered, she kept it well hidden in her heart.

Father sat in the doorway, happy to watch the festivities from a distance, laughing at the drunk jugglers and leering at the temple dancers. He drank wine and popped fat, glossy olives into his mouth while Mother rubbed his shoulders. A male servant belonging to a neighbor rushed up to us, displaying his wedding ring, a virgin’s blush on his face. Mother hugged him, warning him not to be late to the market tomorrow morning. He winked and pranced off. Father rolled his eyes and plunged his hand into the olive bowl, spearing an olive on the end of his index finger. He removed it and placed it on his ring finger, with an exaggerated sigh of wistfulness. Mother punched him on the shoulder as Astra and I giggled.

Dagon’s temple, which was only a two-hour walk from here, would be busy later tonight. After all the children had been put to bed and the lamps extinguished, and the newlyweds had drawn the curtains around their beds, the long-married and the still-single men would all find themselves on the same road, with the same thought in their minds.

Dagon’s temple offered beautiful temple prostitutes of many ages. Men would prostrate themselves at the feet of Dagon, that great god of the fields, and then prostitutes would descend the cold stone steps and become Dagon to those men. In Dagon’s name, they would make love to the men and release them of all their fears and concerns. The Philistine men were quite devout; none of them ever