Artscroll.com -- Chapter from The Judge -- Prologue Artscroll.com Chapter from The Judge -- Prologue
Hello. Sign in to get personalized recommendations.
Your Account
Order Status
Customer Service
View Cart Checkout
Home Books Audio Software Judaica
ArtScroll Classics   |    Browse Categories   |    Best Sellers   |    The App  |   New Releases   |   Future Releases   |   Recommendations
ArtScroll Gift Finder
   
 
Privacy Policy
 
To unsubscribe, click here
 
Shop By Item Number  
Request A Catalog  
eBooks  
Talmud  
Siddur / Prayer Books  
Chumash / Torah  
Tanach / Bible  
Mishnah  
Daily Dose of Torah  
Kosher By Design Series  
Passover Haggadahs  
Interlinear Series  
Tehillim / Psalms  
Machzorim  
Rubin Prophets  
Torah Reader's Tikkun  
Foreign Language Editions  
Rashi & Ramban  
Children's Titles  
All Categories  
Gift Certificates  
Browse By Category  
Best Sellers  
New Releases  
Back In Print  
Browse by Author  
Browse by Title  
Schottenstein Talmud Bavli  
Schottenstein Talmud Yerushalmi  
Kleinman Ed. A Daily Dose of Torah  
Edmond J. Safra French Talmud  
Schottenstein Ed. Book of Mitzvos  
Click for ArtScroll Gift Certificates
Downloads  
Sample Chapters  
Parashah Talk  
Click to find a Hebrew Bookstore near you
      
 

  Prologue from
The Judge

By Libby Lazewnik 



Prologue

It was night, and she was running.

It had rained earlier in the evening, and now a fine mist draped a shimmering curtain in the air. Dim shapes along either side of the street were ghostly suggestions of houses. The trees were vague outlines that appeared briefly through the fog as she sprinted past, and then receded again. It was a rather beautiful scene, if also an eerie one, but the young woman saw neither the beauty nor the mystery because of the film of tears that filled her eyes.

There, on the quiet Baltimore street at one o'clock in the morning, her heart was in the painful process of breaking in half.

The furious, glorious moment when she had flung her ring into the face of the man responsible for the heartbreak was past but blessed numbness had not yet arrived to ease her pain. Sobs bubbled up from deep inside, to emerge in tiny gasping cries that kept time with the tap of her high heels as she ran down the block in search of her car.

Her shoes were frivolous rather than sturdy. They were meant for a leisurely evening spent in the company of the man she was going to marry, not a mad sprint through the darkness of a strange street in an unfamiliar town. Her ankles ached. Tiny droplets settled on her shoulders and sparkled like glitter in her hair. Blinking away the tears from her eyes, she narrowed them against the fog. Where was the car, to take her far away from the scene of her humiliation? Distance had no meaning in this opaque world. Had she parked it in front of this house? Or was it that one? She could not remember.

Dimly, she registered a sound: a second pair of running feet.

It was impossible to tell which direction the sound came from. In any case, there was no time to figure it out. Out of a driveway, into the pool of yellow light from a street lamp, hurtled a figure full-tilt, and she just missed cannoning into it.

Her breath left her in a gasp. The fog parted momentarily to give her a glimpse of a young man's face beneath a baseball cap. The face could have been called handsome, had it not been so surly and had it not been disfigured by a long, white scar that ran from the corner of one eye nearly down to his mouth.

“S-sorry,” she stammered, breathless. The man stared at her for one wild instant, as though doubting the reality of her presence at this hour, in these surroundings. Then, ferociously, he shouldered past her and was gone, swallowed in the fog.

 
© Copyright 2008. ArtScroll.com All rights reserved.