The Ring of Solomon

By J. M. Allison

Andy slumped in his chair. He rubbed tired eyes and focused on the calendar hanging beside his desk. A bright red circle highlighted June 15, his looming deadline. Nine days left to either finish his thirty-page thesis or flunk the post-graduate program. No paper, no grade. No grade, no graduation. No graduation, no degree. No degree, no trip to join Louisa. No trip to join Louisa… Well, he had to finish this paper.

He stared again at the mechanical typewriter in front of him. He ran his fingers along the body’s polished black box, then rested them on the ivory-lettered keys, awaiting inspiration. The crisp black letters of his title stared back at him, lonely smudges on an otherwise blank page: The Ring of Solomon.

Andy considered the words. Clear. Concise. Informative. Now, if he could only make the next thirty pages sound that way. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

Solomon had penned some of the most profound and beautiful poems in the Old Testament, and was reputed to be the wisest man in history. Some legends credited his signet ring as the conduit through which God enabled him to understand any language and interpret any text. The ring supposedly lay hidden among the treasures within King Solomon’s tomb. A shame such a trinket languished hidden and unused.

Andy’s attention wandered to the letter on the corner of his desk. His research partner, Louisa, had written him earlier that month from a dig just outside Bethlehem. Her father had funded the expedition and she’d volunteered to be his on-site representative, helping to catalog and research any discoveries. Her delicate script described her team’s discovery and exploration of a network of hillside caves. No significant finds yet, but her words brimmed with excitement and hope.

Andy smiled at her descriptions. As soon as he completed this paper and received his degree, he’d book passage on the first ship across the pond to join her. The list of unearthed relics awaiting discovery was innumerable and Andy couldn’t wait to begin the hunt. He grinned as he typed the last sentence of his introduction.

He winced as a wrong key struck the page. Andy glared at the offending mark. He internally debated if Professor Hanigan would take away points for spelling “mistake” as M-I-S-T-Z-K-E. Resetting the machine to type over the letter was nearly impossible. He considered scratching out the word and continuing.

An image of the plump professor reading the typo sprang to Andy’s mind. The professor’s eye bulged, his upper lip curled, and his thin handlebar mustache twitched in opposing rhythm to the rapid blink of his non-bulged eye, as his entire face gained a vermilion hue. The figment scribbled a large “F” at the top of his report in bold red ink and released a string of disparaging remarks against Andy, his thesis, students in general, and the entirety of Andy’s general acquaintance.

Andy ripped the nearly completed page from the machine and crumpled it into a ball. He tossed it toward the overflowing wastepaper basket in the corner and loaded a fresh sheet, carefully retyping his introduction.

He stretched and stared at the corrected line, his mind blank on how to continue. His empty coffee mug grumbled at him. Tilting the cup, Andy surveyed the crusted coffee remains. The clock on the wall ticked persistently, as the little hand pushed eagerly toward the twelve. A fresh cup might help stimulate his brain cells.

He set the pot heating as he scoured the mug clean. A stack of unopened mail called to him from the little round table in the breakfast nook of his tiny studio apartment. He flipped through the solicitations and envelopes, sorting what was urgent from what could wait another day or two. An abused and stained envelope caught his eye.

Andy’s name and address were sloppily scrawled across the front. The sender must’ve been in a tremendous rush. A glance at the return address showed Louisa’s name. The weight of the envelope surprised him and the contents sat unevenly in his hand. He ripped its edge and withdrew the expensive letterhead. The folded sheet escaped easily and he flipped it open.

Thunk!

A thick gold ring landed on the table. Its flat face bore a six-pointed star with delicate Hebrew glyphs. A raised, braided rim circled the star. More etched Hebrew characters decorated the sides of the band. Andy turned the ring in his fingers and focused on the accompanying note: “Something to give you inspiration!”

He slid the ring onto the first finger of his right hand and frowned at the souvenir. Not his typical style, but certainly fitting for the task—

The world shifted, as if gravity itself had stumbled, and everything started to tilt and spin. He gasped and grabbed the table to keep himself upright. Papers launched into the air and fluttered to the ground. His knees buckled and his stomach flip-flopped, threatening to empty. Then, the sensations passed.

Andy shook his head. The cumulative effects of continuous late nights and poor cafeteria food must be worse than he realized. The smell of fresh coffee penetrated his awareness and he took a steadying breath. He poured himself a cup, savoring the rich aroma rising from his mug, and returned to his typewriter.

Andy positioned his hands on the keys and reread the last sentence of his intro. His fingers sprang to life, typing with rapid precision. Thoughts flowed onto the paper with an elegance he didn’t recognize. He withdrew his hands from the keys and reviewed the words on the page. The clarity and insights they conveyed bordered on profound.

He glanced at the ring. The inscription blazed bright in his mind, familiar as an old lullaby: “If anyone lacks wisdom, let him ask God who gives generously.”

Andy grinned. Completing his thesis in nine days was going to be a cinch.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J. M. Allison, more commonly addressed as Lisa, or Mommommommom, grew up captivated by the magic and wonder of fairy tales. She finds daily adventure in raising four rambunctious younglings, teaching musical theatre and dance, sewing, drawing, cosplaying, writing, and reading. Stories can communicate so many things, and she hopes her stories will bring a smile and inspire others to courageously live their own adventures.

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