The Book of Asenath

A Tale of Ancient Mesopotamia

When the shadow of the watcher Zazidel had passed over the house of Kemuel three times in a single morning, Kemuel’s wives prevailed upon him to give his daughter Asenath a dove, saying, “She is the reason Zazidel passes continually between us and the sun. He would have her to wife, Kemuel. But let her go to the temple at once and make a sacrifice to the Most High, that the angel might leave off and harass her no more.”

Then Kemuel wrapped a dove in cloth that had been laundered in living water and he gave it to Asenath. “Hold tight,” he said. “Restrain its wings so that it won’t fly away.”

The dove soon grew contented in the nest her fingers made around the cloth and did not struggle to free itself but only made its plaintive cry.

Asenath had not carried a dove to the temple before. The sound of its cooing curdled the contents of her stomach. She did not like the thought of seeing it disemboweled. She clutched it tight and hunched her shoulders over it when the shadow of the angel Zazidel passed between her and the sun, staining the path before her feet and arresting her step.

She could not help herself, could not make her eyes obey and face the ground, nor could she stop her head from tipping back, her lips opening to Zazidel in awe. He blotted the sun and half the dome of Heaven. His outstretched wings had about them a rippling iridescence, so that she could not look away. He stirred the wind with his wings and cooled her face, and the wind tossed the scarf from her head to her shoulders, so that her hair spilled down her back in a tumult.