The City

A Story by Michael Dowell

A short dialogue between two strangers about a city.

The City

On a road running along the river Jordan, two men had stopped to rest. The heat of the sun beats heavily upon the banks. No clouds dot the sky, and the blue ocean above lays motionless over the Levant.

“Shalom, fellow wanderer. I am Mi’hael, of the tribe of Benjamin. I have a question, if I may?”

“Aleikhem shalom, you may,” the other man said.

“I am looking for Jericho. Word has come to me of its liberation. That my tribe has brought the truth of our God. How now, his will might be done, and the Israelites might claim their holy land.”

“And where did those who told you of its liberation hear of it?”

“They heard from the merchants who travel the lands.”

“Aye. Jericho. From here, follow the river with the current for one day, east for another, this will bring you to Jericho.”

“Thank you, my good man. You have my gratitude and thanks. I will be off now, I must make it to the land of milk and honey. Before I leave, however, will you tell me your name sir?” Mi’hael said.

“I am Keret. B’hatzlacha, Mi’hael. Good luck in your travels.”

“I wish you a long a life, Keret, and every blessing of God. Shalom”

As Mi’hael began to walk away, Keret sat there and thought,

But had he not heard, that the city was dead? And that the walls were burned to the ground? And the bodies of the men and women and children had been laid out to be food for vultures?

And as he turned to call to Mi’hael, he noticed how far away he was, and realized that his calling would do no good.