Mark of Cain

By Shirley Gal

Two strangers meet in the dead of night, sitting on a stone bench that overlooks the Western Wall. She has nowhere to go after running away. He, on the other hand, has all the time in the world.

Mark of Cain is a timeless love story of passion and mystery, taking place over the course of one night, in which secrets are exposed and old feelings awaken. The story takes the reader on a journey through the alleyways of the Old City of Jerusalem, infused with Jewish mysticism and mythology, following the strangers until they reach the surprising, yet, inevitable end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shirley Gal
• Release date: Sep 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781540135483

Book preview

Mark of Cain

Shirley Gal

Copyright © 2018 Shirley Gal

All rights reserved; No parts of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, of the author.

Contact: [e-mail]

S O, W HAT’S Y OUR E XCUSE?

My excuse? he asked, his gaze fixed on the Western Wall that stood solemnly before our eyes. We were sitting on the stone bench that overlooks the sacred site, our backs pressed against the large tree standing firm in the center of the plaza. The lights all around cast their glow over us, emphasizing the strong – even timeless – contours of his face. He was wrapped in a long black coat with a thin T-shirt underneath. His brown hair was cropped just below his ears, neither long nor short.

It’s two o’clock in the morning and you’re sitting here staring at the night owls. What’s your excuse?

He smiled to himself and his gaze didn’t stray.

A gust of wind blew past. One of those Jerusalem kinds, that penetrates to the very bone, no matter what you’re wearing.

Are you cold? he asked.

And what if I am?

He glanced at me and took off his coat, leaving himself in just the T-shirt. Take it, he said, passing it to me.

Are you giving me your coat?

There’s no fooling you.

Why?

You said you were cold.

Yes. And now you are.

Chivalry isn’t dead, he stated, not budging from his seat. Seemingly frozen in time. Looking straight ahead as if he had no past to worry about or future to go back to.

He was lanky and strong. And looked absolutely ageless. His laugh lines stood out in the light, with their covering of black stubble, or brown.

I put on the coat. Its scent filled me. A scent befitting the man he was. The scent of pine trees, of olive trees, of fruit wine. An age-old scent of sorts. A scent that for some reason, sparked an old memory.

I leaned back against the steady tree, allowed myself to get comfortable, to rest. And those small hours of the morning did their thing. Thoughts of what had been and what was still to come began stirring inside me. Thoughts of what might have been.

Two policemen walked by, glanced at us. Giving a second, longer look at the tall and mysterious stranger sitting beside me. T-shirted men with black stubble and blue eyes don’t frequent that area of the Western Wall I guessed. Not in the middle of the night, at least.

Is everything okay? one of the policemen asked me.

Of course, I answered with a smile.

They both flashed me a piercing look, before fixing their eyes again on the individual alongside me. And then, when they appeared satisfied, they nodded to us both and walked on.

You’ve killed romance, the stranger beside me blurted out with a chuckle.

Don’t start with that, I responded, rolling my eyes at him.

I can hear that, you know.

Hear what?

You rolling your eyes. It was that loud.

I laughed a little and looked at him. His left forearm boasted a small – but very distinct – scar. Red in color. It comprised a circle bisected perpendicularly by a line that stretched a little way below the circumference of the circle itself. I looked at it for a moment. When I saw him glance at me, I immediately diverted my eyes to my iPhone. I wanted to see if I had missed anything important during the time that had passed between one-fifty and two minutes past two.

Those electronic restraints. I don’t understand why you do that to yourselves. You can’t do anything on your own any longer.

What? I asked, looking up at him absentmindedly.

He tilted his head towards my phone. Those devices, he said.

Who’s you?

You. All of you.

And not you?

Not me.

And what if you want to talk?

I talk.

Yes, but when you want to talk to someone who isn’t right next to you.

Why would I want to do that?