The sun had barely risen over the hills of Judah, painting the village in hues of ochre and gold. Dust hung thick in the narrow streets, curling around the stone walls of small homes, market stalls, and the synagogue at the town's edge. Life moved slowly here—yet every shadow whispered of danger.
Tzur Ha'Emet walked through the morning market, his sandals kicking up dust, eyes scanning the stalls. He carried a small basket of figs for his mother, but his mind wandered. The stories of old—David standing against Goliath, Solomon speaking wisdom to kings, Hannah praying for her child—were alive in his imagination. His parents were always going on and on about those stories it was very difficult to forget them. Though more than stories, they felt… near. Well he joined the synagogues for preaching every time not necessarily because he wanted to also not necessarily because he was forced. The older people make it seem normal still worshipping God under the current circumstances 'it's not like I'm against Christianity or something I mean I love God or at least I think I do'
The thought nagged him but he shook his head. I'm just a boy, he thought. A simple boy from Judah.
A sudden scream tore through the market. Tzur turned. Roman soldiers were dragging a man through the street. The man's hands were bound, his eyes wild with fear. People scattered; some hid behind carts and pillars.
"Christians," one of the soldiers spat. "You refuse to worship the emperor? Then you will learn obedience!"
Tzur felt his stomach twist. This happens always and it made him sick every time he heard about it though he had never seen it firsthand until now.He knew the stories of persecution—how neighbors had been seized, beaten, or worse—but seeing it firsthand struck him like a stone.Why should one be antagonised because of religious background? it made him angry.
A faint warmth stirred in his chest. He blinked, and for a moment, the dust around the captured man shimmered as if light itself bent toward him.
Tzur Ha'Emet…? The thought whispered in his mind.
He shook it off. Nonsense.
But then he saw it: a figure, faint and golden, appearing above the roof of a nearby house. It was David—or a vision of David, bathed in warm light, eyes full of command and encouragement.
"Do not fear," the figure said, voice resonant and steady. "Even a boy of Judah can stand when faith is true. Remember the words of the LORD; they are your strength."
The words drifted through Tzur's mind, forming letters of light before his eyes: "The name of the LORD is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe."
He felt his chest tighten—not with fear, but with something new. Courage. Something powerful, ancient, and solid, like a rock forming within him.
Suddenly, the Roman captain raised his whip. "Strike him if he resists!"
Tzur didn't understand how, didn't know what he was doing—but he raised his hands instinctively. Words formed on his tongue, a verse flowing naturally, full and complete:
"The name of the LORD is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe!"
Light erupted from him, not blinding, but solid and resolute. Stone-like columns rose around him, surrounding the man and scattering the soldiers. The pillars were rough, golden, unyielding—Tzur Ha'Emet felt the rock of truth under his hands, his arms, his heart.
The soldiers stumbled backward, eyes wide, unable to advance. The man's bindings loosened in the shifting columns of light.
Tzur exhaled, the warmth fading. The vision of David lingered just long enough to nod once, approvingly. Then it disappeared.
He looked around. The market was silent now, the soldiers retreating, muttering curses. No one spoke. The power felt real, yet fragile, as if it could vanish if his faith wavered.
Tzur Ha'Emet lowered his hands. His chest heaved. The words echoed in his mind, not as magic, but as truth:
"The name of the LORD is a strong tower."
And in that moment, he knew—this was only the beginning.
And also he knew he had to run.
Faster than the soldiers could regroup he took off leaving the basket of figs he was supposed to take back home to his mother. He didn't have time to think his situation was dire. He sped and took a shortcut at a curve no one really used nowadays it was narrow and gave him distance since it was difficult for the soldiers to get used that route with their heavy equipment. Though there were still a few on his trail. A spear flew past him. 'THONK' It landed right in front of him he barely dodged it and continued his escape he was shaken to the core. 'They weren't going to kill a 14 year old boy were they.' He shook the thoughts away and concentrated on his escape. Ahead of him the was a ramp 'The soldiers should find it difficult climbing this he thought without really thinking he leapt like his life depended on it since it actually did and landed roughly on top of the ramp,broke his ankle, it hurt but there was no time to think about the pain he continued to run for his life. Ahead was the all to familiar crossroads he new very. He hoped the soldiers didn't. He took a sharp left and slid under the almost invisible doorway that led to a secret route to one of the synagogues in Judea.
He paused to catch his breath. He was safe here
Temporarily.