 
Thank you Allah

Purpose

By Khaleel Jooste

Copyright Khaleel Jooste 2017

Smashwords Edition License Notes:

This free e-book may be copied, distributed, reposted, reprinted and shared, provided it appears in its entirety without alteration, and the reader is not charged to access it.

Other books by Khaleel Jooste

Whisperers

 https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/whisperers-khaleel-jooste/1115248119?ean=2940045742214

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/414163

Manchild

 https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/manchild-khaleel-jooste/1118892433?ean=2940045742719

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/414171

Nikah

 https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/nikah-khaleel-jooste/1118866941?ean=2940045734684

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/414176

Connect with Khaleel Jooste via email

kritzmanjooste@gmail.com

or Linkedin

https://za.linkedin.com/in/khaleel-jooste-9065a5125

I seek protection from Satan the outcast and I begin in the name of

Allah,

The Most Gracious, The Most Merciful.

Ayat Al-Kursi

The verse of the Throne

Allah - there is no deity except Him, the Ever-Living, the Sustainer of all existence. Neither drowsiness overtakes Him nor sleep. To Him belongs whatever is in the heavens and whatever is on the earth. Who is it that can intercede with Him except by His permission? He knows what is presently before them and what will be after them, and they encompass not a thing of His knowledge except for what He wills. His throne extends over the heavens and the earth, and their preservation tires Him not. And He is the Most High, the Most Great.

Surah Al- Baqarah (The Cow) 2:255

As Allah wills
Abu Darda' reported Allah's Apostle (may peace be upon him) as saying:

If anyone learns by heart the first ten verses of the Surah al-Kahf, he will be protected from the Dajjal (Anti-Christ).

(Sahih Muslim: Book #004, Hadith #1766)

All the praises and thanks be to Allah, Who has sent down to His slave (Muhammad) the Book (the Qur'an), and has not placed therein any crookedness.

(He has made it) Straight to give warning (to the disbelievers) of a severe punishment from Him, and to give glad tidings to the believers (in the Oneness of Allah, Islamic Monotheism), who work righteous deeds, that they shall have a fair reward (i.e. Paradise).

They shall abide therein forever.

And to warn those (Jews, Christians, and pagans) who say, "Allah has begotten a son (or offspring or children)."

No knowledge have they of such a thing, nor had their fathers. Mighty is the word that comes out of their mouths [i.e. He begot (took) sons and daughters]. They utter nothing but a lie.

Perhaps, you, would kill yourself (O Muhammad) in grief, over their footsteps (for their turning away from you), because they believe not in this narration (the Qur'an).

Verily! We have made that which is on earth as an adornment for it, in order that We may test them (mankind) as to which of them are best in deeds. [i.e. those who do good deeds in the most perfect manner, that means to do them (deeds) totally for Allah's sake and in accordance to the legal ways of the Prophet].

And verily! We shall make all that is on it (the earth) a bare dry soil (without any vegetation or trees, etc.).

Do you think that the people of the Cave and the Inscription (the news or the names of the people of the Cave) were a wonder among Our Signs?

(Remember) when the young men fled for refuge (from their disbelieving folk) to the Cave, they said: "Our Lord! Bestow on us mercy from Yourself, and facilitate for us our affair in the right way!"

Surah Al-Kahf (The Cave) 18:1-10

This hadith has been transmitted by Qatada with the same chain of transmitters. But Shu'ba (one of the narrators) said: At the end of Surah al-Kahf, but Hammam said: At the beginning of Surah al-Kahf.

(Sahih Muslim: Book #004, Hadith #1767)

And on that Day We shall present Hell to the disbelievers, plain to view,

(To) Those whose eyes had been under a covering from My Reminder (this Qur'an), and who could not bear to hear (it).

Do then those who disbelieve think that they can take My slaves [i.e., the angels, Allah's Messengers, 'Iesa (Jesus), son of Maryam (Mary), etc.] as Auliya' (lords, gods, protectors, etc.) besides Me? Verily, We have prepared Hell as an entertainment for the disbelievers (in the Oneness of Allah, Islamic Monotheism).

Say (O Muhammad): "Shall We tell you the greatest losers in respect of (their) deeds?

"Those whose efforts have been wasted in this life while they thought that they were acquiring good by their deeds!

"They are those who deny the Ayat (proofs, evidences, verses, lessons, signs, revelations, etc.) of their Lord and the Meeting with Him (in the Hereafter). So their works are in vain, and on the Day of Resurrection, We shall not give them any weight.

"That shall be their recompense, Hell; because they disbelieved and took My Ayat (proofs, evidences, verses, lessons, signs, revelations, etc.) and My Messengers by way of jest and mockery.

"Verily! Those who believe (in the Oneness of Allah, Islamic Monotheism) and do righteous deeds, shall have the Gardens of Al-Firdaus (the Paradise) for their entertainment.

"Wherein they shall dwell (forever). No desire will they have to be removed therefrom."

Say (O Muhammad to mankind). "If the sea were ink for (writing) the Words of my Lord, surely, the sea would be exhausted before the Words of my Lord would be finished, even if we brought (another sea) like it for its aid."

Say (O Muhammad): "I am only a man like you. It has been inspired to me that your Ilah (God) is One Ilah (God i.e. Allah). So whoever hopes for the Meeting with his Lord, let him work righteousness and associate none as a partner in the worship of his Lord."

Surah Al-Kahf (The Cave) 18:100-110

#HappyBirthday

The Prophet said, 'Whoever recites four verses from the first part of Surah Al-Baqarah, the verse of the Throne, two verses after the verse of the Throne and three verses from the last part of Surah Al-Baqarah, Satan would never come near him or the members of his family on that day, and nothing he despises would come near him or the members of his family, and never are these verses recited over a madman without him regaining his consciousness'

Maariful Quran Volume 1 (English - Page 96)

In the name of Allah, The Most Gracious, The Most Merciful

Alif-Lam-Mim. [These letters are one of the miracles of the Qur'an and none but Allah (Alone) knows their meanings].

This is the Book (the Qur'an), whereof there is no doubt, a guidance to those who are Al-Muttaqun [the pious and righteous persons who fear Allah much (abstain from all kinds of sins and evil deeds which He has forbidden) and love Allah much (perform all kinds of good deeds which He has ordained)].

Who believe in the Ghaib and perform As-Salat (Iqamat-as-Salat), and spend out of what we have provided for them [i.e. give Zakat , spend on themselves, their parents, their children, their wives, etc., and also give charity to the poor and also in Allah's Cause - Jihad, etc.].

And who believe in (the Qur'an and the Sunnah) which has been sent down (revealed) to you (Muhammad Peace be upon him) and in [the Taurat (Torah) and the Injeel (Gospel), etc.] which were sent down before you and they believe with certainty in the Hereafter. (Resurrection, recompense of their good and bad deeds, Paradise and Hell, etc.).

Surah Al-Baqarah (The Cow) 2:1-4

Allah! La ilaha illa Huwa (none has the right to be worshipped but He), the Ever Living, the One Who sustains and protects all that exists. Neither slumber, nor sleep overtake Him. To Him belongs whatever is in the heavens and whatever is on earth. Who is he that can intercede with Him except with His Permission? He knows what happens to them (His creatures) in this world, and what will happen to them in the Hereafter. And they will never compass anything of His Knowledge except that which He wills. His Kursi extends over the heavens and the earth, and He feels no fatigue in guarding and preserving them. And He is the Most High, the Most Great.

Surah Al-Baqarah (The Cow) 2:255

There is no compulsion in religion. Verily, the Right Path has become distinct from the wrong path. Whoever disbelieves in Taghut and believes in Allah, then he has grasped the most trustworthy handhold that will never break. And Allah is All-Hearer, All-Knower.

Allah is the Wali (Protector or Guardian) of those who believe. He brings them out from darkness into light. But as for those who disbelieve, their Auliya (supporters and helpers) are Taghut [false deities and false leaders, etc.], they bring them out from light into darkness. Those are the dwellers of the Fire, and they will abide therein forever.

Surah A-Baqarah (The Cow) 2:256-257

To Allah belongs all that is in the heavens and all that is on the earth, and whether you disclose what is in your ownselves or conceal it, Allah will call you to account for it. Then He forgives whom He wills and punishes whom He wills. And Allah is Able to do all things.

The Messenger (Muhammad) believes in what has been sent down to him from his Lord, and (so do) the believers. Each one believes in Allah, His Angels, His Books, and His Messengers. They say, "We make no distinction between one another of His Messengers" - and they say, "We hear, and we obey. (We seek) Your Forgiveness, our Lord, and to You is the return (of all)."

Allah burdens not a person beyond his scope. He gets reward for that (good) which he has earned, and he is punished for that (evil) which he has earned. "Our Lord! Punish us not if we forget or fall into error, our Lord! Lay not on us a burden like that which You did lay on those before us (Jews and Christians); our Lord! Put not on us a burden greater than we have strength to bear. Pardon us and grant us Forgiveness. Have mercy on us. You are our Maula (Patron, Supporter and Protector, etc.) and give us victory over the disbelieving people."

Surah Al-Baqarah (The Cow) 2:284-286

"I seek the protection of Allah the Great, greater than whom

there is none; and I seek the protection of the perfect words of

Allah which no man, virtuous or wicked, can even transcend;

and I seek the protection of all the Beautiful Names of Allah,

those of them which I know and those which I do not know,

from the evil of everything which Allah has created, to which

He has given existence, and which He has spread (over the

earth or the universe)."

The Scholar Ka'b al-Ahbar's dua

Maariful Quran Volume 1 (English - Page 272)

By time

Indeed, mankind is in loss,

Except for those who have believed and done righteous deeds and advised each other to truth and advised each other to patience.

Surah Al-Asr (The Time) 103:1-3
For Justin and Britney

Your friend

Khaleel
And We created not the heaven and the earth and all that is between them without purpose!

That is the consideration of those who disbelieve!

Then woe to those who disbelieve

(in Islamic Monotheism)

from the Fire!

Surah Sad (The Letter 'Saad') 38:27

Hidden within

#OohLaLa

#OutOfTownGirl

He remembers the day he met the pretty, fair girl very well. He didn't expect anyone to know of his secret place, but by the way she swung around on the tree branches, she definitely knew it well. He immediately liked her, which was unusual for him, because he didn't get along with people very much, especially not strangers. But she seemed somehow familiar, like they knew each other from somewhere. He knew he never saw those pretty eyes before, but they felt like home to him. He found it all very peculiar. The first day he met her, he was too shy to talk to her. She didn't seem to mind. She simply kept on about how she wanted to run away from home. She felt trapped. He listened. She appreciated that. They became quick friends.

A week went by and still he didn't speak to her. He just nodded his head whenever she spoke to him. He would help her to build her make believe worlds with rocks and branches. She liked using the leaves to make dresses for her stick dolls. He found it all very amusing. For a girl who swung around in trees and who was not scared to leap from the branches into the lake, she sure was still very girly, playing with her dolls. He just sat and watched her. She was pretty. It was the only way he felt he could describe her. She had very long, brown hair. It was usually in a single braid in a ponytail to the back. She always wore a very pretty white dress that reached to her ankles. There were always pink flowers printed on the collar. She wore a necklace around her neck with a charm, but he wasn't sure what it was, because it was hidden under the dress. She had pretty lips he thought. Her cheeks were always red. He found her to be the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

The first time he spoke to her, was the day when she was no longer barefoot, but wearing shoes. He was really surprised. He had gotten so used to seeing her without shoes that it seemed rather odd to see her in those pink rivet leather sneakers. She looked delightful in her white dress and pink shoes. That day she had a ribbon in her hair. He tried hard not to stare. She was prettier than before, especially with her hair in braids to the side. He was caught off guard by her question. But he didn't have to think long to answer. He didn't even hesitate. Remembering that day always brings a warm cheer to his heart. The first day he spoke and the first day he was truly happy. He remembers it well. He was sitting on the flat beam of the floor to the tree house they had started building. She climbed along the tree trunk to where he was admiring her. When she got to the top, she smiled and spoke about running away again. She had decided that day was thé day. So, she enquired sincerely.

"Tell me, if you could, would you up and run away, with me?" She stared into his eyes imploringly. He couldn't be sure if her eyes were brown or green. All he knew was that they were pretty. Without hesitating, he answered. "Yes, pretty. I will."

In all the time they were together, he never asked her name and she never asked his. For some strange reason, neither of them felt the need to know, nor the need to be known.

They were happy just to know that they had someone to be with. Solace was found in each other's company, contented with the gift of companionship. The fact that she was pretty made it all the more comforting to him. The fact that he listened made it all the more bearable for her. They were two peas in a pod, and that in more ways than one.

It was a fine day when it all happened. The dark was chased away by the all-encompassing bright light. It brought with it a renewed cheer, there was no longer any fear, something that these two had come to hold dear. There was a crisp, cool breeze in the air that caressed their cheeks. He was the first to greet them, the two peaks that were there, right outside their pea pod. He wanted to wake her up, but she had such a peaceful expression on her face, that he decided to let her sleep more. She must have been having a sweet dream. He didn't have to wait long. She woke up with a happy yawn and a stretch of her legs and arms. She rolled out of the pod, she ruffled his hair and gasped at the sight of the spectacle in front of them. He was happy that she was up. He was happy whenever she was there. He was plain just happy to be with her. They both took a while to make sense of what they were looking at. It was way off in the distance. They would have to cross the murky lands, perhaps even have to go underground to be able to reach it, but they were both willing and ready to go.

They decided that they would start the journey as soon as they had finished breakfast. This had become somewhat of a ritual to them. He would collect whatever he could find, whether it be berries, fruit or edible roots – these were a big favorite – or sometimes when he was lucky to catch some fish or hunt down some small animal. These were many, but they preferred not to shed too much blood. They rather ate what the earth provided. She would then prepare it for them. She was not the best of cooks, but what she made was delicious to him and that was more than enough. That morning, he was able to find many delicious berries and also some sweet orange roots. Whether they were carrots they could not say. Things were not always as they seem, that is what they have been able to find out about this place. Where they were was the biggest mystery. Perhaps the answer lay there where the two peaks suddenly appeared.

As usual, they would each say something that they were grateful for on that specific day. It was the highlight of their ritual. It was her turn, when it happened.

"Today, I am grateful for the light of my beautiful life..." she was going to say more, but was distracted by the bird that suddenly perched itself on the tree branch right above them. They both stared at it in wonder. It was spectacular. Not like any bird they had ever seen before. Its feathers were mostly golden, with the exception of a few purple feathers that were on the tip of its wings. Very strikingly bright feathers were on top of its head. It looked almost white, but it was not. It was whitish due to some light that radiated from it. Its eyes were a golden brown, almost a light red. It had a very short beak; it was curved down towards its breast. There were a few dark specks across its chest and two markings beneath those that gave the impression of something that was woven or intertwined. Its body was very elegant. It stood tall on very long legs; its claws fully wrapped around the tree branch.

Its tail feathers were also golden, but with green here and there. They were spread out beautifully behind the bird and from where they were staring at it, the feathers were beautiful streaks that were delicate and seemed almost fragile. It opened the tail feathers slightly and it was as if more light radiated from it and it gave the appearance of being some sort of emblem. They could not be sure. The more they stared, the brighter the light seemed, until the bird closed the feathers, gave a soft chirp and took to flight, but it merely flapped its wings once and it was more that it sort of disappeared in front of their eyes. They kept looking for it in the skies, but it was nowhere to be seen. Unsure of what just happened they stared at each other. He asked first.

"Do you feel that too?"

She nodded her head. "Yes, I do. It feels tingly like."

He nodded too. "Yes, pretty. Almost tickly, yes?"

She nodded yes, with a smile.

"I am grateful for this feeling. I am grateful for this moment. This is living."

He nods in agreement.

They both stare off into the distance.

"Shall we go and see?" she asks.

He takes in the peaks, scans the skies and then rests his gaze on her. He nods yes.

She takes his hand and they were off.

They ventured into the murky lands. Its characteristic purple color dominated the fields, but here and there were patches of orange and green. It all had a very rugged look. Far above them, light clouds started gathering. A light rose tint to them. Above those, unseen by them, something was looking on. Just above the rosy clouds, it was ever present, ever near.

Watching.

The Writer

# Purpose #MarkMyWords #WhatDoYouMean #I'llShowYou

I always wanted to be a writer, more specifically, a world renowned journalist. I always thought I would write about the important stuff, the things that mattered, things that could change lives. Deep down I just wanted my words to make a difference. Secretly, I too want world peace, I too want to help end poverty, help the poor.

But now...

What difference can my writing make?

If I believe what I believe, then nothing is true. All of it is just lies. Awards are not honoring those deserving of them, definitely not today, and definitely not as we were taught to believe. My coveted Pulitzer is merely given to those who write in favor of the agenda.

The Big Agenda.

I find myself, yet again, between a hard place and a rock. What is the reality and what is not?

To answer this question I have searched in many places for answers, heard many views and opinions, read numerous books both fiction and apparently non-fiction, followed blogs and listened to vlogs, everyone is convinced they know the truth, but at the same time it also seems that everyone is grabbing at straws.

The only one thing that was clear in all of these things.

God and the absence of God.

These two paths ultimately have one goal.

The Big Agenda.

To misguide the human race.

The only question is.

Why?
The life of this world is no more than illusion and vanity, while the abode of the Hereafter is far better for the righteous. Do you not understand?

Surah Al-An'am (The Cattle) 6:32

O mankind! do your duty to your Lord, and fear (the coming of) a Day when no father can avail aught for his son, nor a son avail aught for his father. Verily, the promise of Allah is true: let not then this present life deceive you, nor let the chief Deceiver deceive you about Allah.

Surah Luqman 31:33

The writing has been difficult. That is putting it mildly. Not because of a lack of creativity, or things to say. I just don't want to be nasty. And believe me, there is a part of me that just wants to bash and hate. But that is beneath me.

It is beneath us.

I choose not to be that person. May it all dissipate as I try to forget. In doing so I forgot I had a voice, I forgot, that though, I might not be wanted, not in this country, not now, not with this new wall that threatens our peace, it's like a tear in the fabric, though despite it all, I am reminded that there are still some good people in this world.

A lot actually.

Yes, it's like that.

I realize now, that I do have a voice. She inspired me. She awakened something inside of me. I find courage in this despair. We do have voices. Our words are weapons. The pen is mightier than the sword. Maybe, just maybe, she can be my muse.

This pen. Engraved.

LANCELOT.

Just maybe. I'll tell you. Maybe.

Mark my words.

Go ye forth, (whether equipped) lightly or heavily, and strive and struggle, with your goods and your persons, in the cause of Allah. That is best for you, if ye (but) knew.

Surah At-Taubah (Repentance) 9:41

When I think of this, it really brings tears to my eyes.

To think, that once I rather yearned for death, 'cause I just thought what is the point of all of this, yes, mess, hardship and simply unenjoyable existence?

At one point I even agreed that why would anyone want to bring a child into the world. But, hey, I have changed my tune. I no longer yearn to die. I now rather, yes, pray to have more time. More time to be able to do this, to be a part of this. To be able to have this, gift.

A really precious gift.

All this hurt and suffering culminated into this moment.

I have found purpose.

I love this time. I love this moment. I love the one who gave it to me. I am blessed to share this gift with you. I love that we have this. This tangible purpose.

He gave us.

Purpose.

"Did you think that We had created you in play (without any purpose), and that you would not be brought back to Us?"

So Exalted be Allah, the True King:

Laa ilaaha illa Huwa

(none has the right to be worshipped but He),

the Lord of the Supreme Throne!"

Al-Mu'minoon (The Believers) 23:115-116

I know. I am confusing. I confuse you. I don't mean to. I just don't know how to say all of this without it sounding... Out there, you know. But it is simple. What do I mean?

This is it.

Ring any bells? He said it. Many times over and over again.

"All I want to say is that they don't really care about us."

Who is this they he refers to? The corrupt system? The corrupt leaders?

I don't think so. I think the they he was referring to was them. And they killed him because of it. But did they kill him? My friend believes that he was merely removed.

Removed from the stage. The stage is the matrix, according to him.

Celebrity only exists on the stage.

But that's another can of worms. Let's rather just say that he is no longer seen.

Perhaps he did Xscape.

I don't believe that rubbish they told us about his death. Not for a second.

He was 'murdered'.

By the very thing he was trying to expose. People call them many things. Some say they are reptilians. A few say they are aliens. People have even called them interdimensional beings. Some say they are quite simply just demons. Others refer to them as archons.

"The archons are coming!"

Remember that tweet? Fallen angels. Ghosts. Sounds crazy if one listens to all of it. But they are all right. That is what I mean. The truth is.

There is a they. They are real.

But they have confused us all about who they really are. The only logical truth I have heard about them, was what I heard from her. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her. If it wasn't for the books she gave me.

If it wasn't for the Qur'an.

The book our leaders burnt.

Publicly.

May He have mercy on us. He tells us the truth.

Plainly.

They are not fallen angels. There are no such things as fallen angels. This is another lie. A lie from them. Propagated by their TV PROGRAMMING and their books. He explains it clearly to us, that the angels follow only His commands. That is the difference between us and the angels.

We have free will, they do not.

They can therefore not end up disobeying Him.

But He does tell us of other beings He has created. They too have free will. And they are the they we are all confused about.

They are the Jinn.

And Satan is of them.

After he disobeyed God's command to bow down to us, he was cursed to burn in the hell fire forever. He refused to bow down to us, because he was arrogant and proud.

He felt he was better than us. With reason, I suppose, if you look at us on face value alone. Their species can change shape while we cannot. They can be aliens if they choose to be. They can be reptilians if they choose to be scaley and slithery. Crawl up your eye nasty if we believe Donald. That the vril are real. Possess you and use your body. Freaks me out really. They can be ghastly ghosts or foul ghouls. Haunt us, taunt and scare us.

But that's not all.

They can even change into animals.

The ones we know are real like dogs and snakes, but even the ones we only believe to be mythical or to exist only in fairy tales. Yes, they can become unicorns, and dragons, whatever they want to.

Yes.

They can even change and appear as human. That does seem better than us. More than that is the fact that they can live much longer than us. They are stronger than us. If that is not enough reason to feel superior, they can even travel great distances in matter of seconds. They sit behind all these superheroes we are bombarded with. They actually want us to feel that we are inferior. Not enough.

Weak.

Therefore, from this, I can understand that he would think that he was better. To sympathize with him, I however differ. Not obeying God's commands only leads to trouble. I know this from personal experience. If I hear what she says and reflect on my life...

But, not now. Later.

Back to the Jinn.

Because of his disobedience, he was the first disbeliever and was cursed forever. He is of course not superior, because he did not know what was hidden inside of us.

The one thing that makes us even more superior than the angels themself.

The spirit that God blew into us.

And he hates us for it.

But he requested respite.

He was granted it.

And he made a promise.

A vow to God.

That he would take us with him. He would lay in wait for us. Attack us from the front, the back, the left and the right. And he would do so, by using God's power.

Do as though wilt.

That he was granted too. But God's loyal servants are exempt from his touch or influence. Then Adam was misled by him. This thing that Eve is to blame for misleading Adam is another false story from them. Adam was the one that was tempted, not Eve. And Adam made Eve eat, not her Adam. This thing that women are to blame for the downfall of men is another lie by them, simply to 'cause this need for women to fight for equal rights and all these things that have 'caused gender wars. It is them causing this havoc amongst us.

But hey...

Adam ate of the tree.

And both he and Adam were cast down to earth.

And God decreed that Adam and his offspring and Satan and his off spring will be enemies to each other.

But Satan whispered evil to him: he said "O Adam! shall I lead thee to the Tree of Eternity and to a kingdom that never decays?" In the result they both ate of the tree and so their nakedness appeared to them: they began to sew together for their covering leaves from the Garden: thus did Adam disobey His Lord and allow himself to be seduced. But his Lord chose him (for His Grace): He turned to him and gave him guidance. He said: "Get ye down both of you all together from the Garden with enmity one to another; but if as is sure there comes to you guidance from Me whosoever follows My guidance will not lose his way nor fall into misery.

Surah Ta-Ha 20:120-123

Things are hard to explain.

So best is simply to show you.

I'll show you.
The Changeling

#MarkMyWords

Reason

Iblis said, "My Lord, because You have put me in error, I will surely make disobedience attractive to them on earth, and I will mislead them all

Except, among them, Your chosen servants."

Surah Al-Hjr (The Rocky Tract) 15:39-40

Just

Justus smiles.

It was his 5th birthday and he was out celebrating with his father on top of the hill that overlooked their house that was tucked away among the trees that surrounded the peaceful village of his people.

He was lying on his back, staring at the small butterfly that hovered in front of his face. The butterfly looked as if it was smiling too, wings bright orange-red against the blue sky. It would gently flutter higher as Justus tried to touch it, but would flutter closer to his face once he dropped his hands back on the grass. At one point it would come so close and sit on the tip of his nose. This made Justus want to laugh out loud, but he tried his best to restrain himself. He looked at the butterfly's curious face. The eyes were comforting. Justus smiles more.

Ever gently, the butterfly started fluttering higher into the sky and just like that, it transforms into a humming bird. It had a bright green chest with a striking yellow tail. The wings were a mix of blue and purple, while orange-red feathers lined its head like a crown. The beak was black and curved. It came hovering towards Justus who could hardly contain his excitement. He picks one of the flowers that grew among the grass. It was dark red and had a trumpet like petal. He holds it up into the air and carefully, the humming bird sticks its beak inside. It then opens its beak and the flower petal tears in half. Justus laughs hard at that.

Slowly he would bring his hand closer to touch the wing of the humming bird. The wings were barely visible. Every time he almost touched one, the humming bird would peck him softly and then rise higher into the air. Justus enjoyed this a lot. He got up from the grass and started jumping into the air, trying to touch the humming bird.

It would keep hovering just out of his reach. Giving up, Justus would then laughingly fall flat on his behind and stare expectantly at the bird to see what would happen next.

Suddenly the bird turned into a small speck of light. Justus had to squint to see it clearly. He stopped his loud laughing and kept as quiet as he possible could. This proved rather difficult; since the light made him want to laugh as it kept coming closer to his face. Upon closer inspection of the light, Justus saw that it was actually a firefly. It looked exactly like the one in his drawing book. He kept staring at it in wonder, the light shining brightly against the clouds that seem to creep up behind it. The sky was starting to change from blue, to a slight orange, as the sun drew closer to the horizon, where it would eventually go to hide behind the trees below the hill. As the shadows grew longer, Justus would move along the edge, remaining half between the light and the shade. He smiled happily as the firefly spun around his head.

Suddenly the light disappeared and instead a small monkey landed on his head and covered his eyes. Startled, Justus fell on his back and tried to take the monkey's small hands away. He managed to lift them away, but the monkey made a funny screeching noise that made Justus laugh uncontrollably and he would let go of it. In turn, the monkey started running down his body and started tickling him. Justus laughed more, tears running down his face. Between the hysterical laughing, he managed to shout for the monkey to stop. It listened and jumped onto the grass and started making cartwheels between the flowers. Justus managed to calm down, get up and chase after the monkey as it ran away. He jumped forward and managed to grab the monkey by the tail, at which point the monkey transformed into a small red-purple dragon that ascended into the air, with Justus holding its tail tightly.

Both alarmed and excited, Justus held onto the tail of the dragon as it ascended higher into the sky. In the distance, the village was in clear view, their house more to the trees, while the rest was in the valley to the right. The dragon made a lazy circle around the hill top and Justus was able to see the lands of Mada. The air there appeared a sickly grey, almost as if some tangible ill will enveloped it. Justus stared at it in wonder. His father never took him there. His father had always warned him about the rebels.

"They follow him who is without hope."

The dragon made a few more laps in the sky, before it suddenly flapped its wings wildly. This made Justus lose his grip and he was left dangling from the air with just one hand. Panicked, he started shouting for the dragon to stop. It however kept flapping its wings wildly and started to fly more down the hill, picking up speed as it did. Not able to hold on anymore, Justus slipped and started to fall to the ground. Hands grabbing at nothing, legs swinging wildly, he screamed for help. All that happened was that he descended faster to what would definitely be an impact that would leave him winded, possibly unconscious.

Justus was no longer smiling.

He prepared himself to hit the ground. Just then, a horse with wings touched down on the ground beneath him, he grabbed onto its mane with a big smile on his face. He watched the white wings of the horse disappear as the horse ran further down the hill towards their house.

It slowed down to a gallop. A few feet away from the house though, the strong, white horse reared up and with a loud scream Justus was thrown of its back, but just as he was about to hit the ground, his father catches him and holds him to his chest.

"Don't worry, I'm here. By His grace, I will always be here."

Justus smiled.

His father kisses him on his forehead.

"I got you."

He carries Justus up the wooden front porch and into the house. In the distance the call for prayer could be heard. The horizon was bright red and the sun appeared as a stalking eye from above the trees. Justus' father stares at it as it completely shies away behind the thick canopy. Uneasy, he keeps staring at the darkening sky. He shakes his head and closes the door.

"You have returned, Abdul 'Adl," says his wife.

Justus runs straight to his mom as soon as his father puts him down. He could barely contain his excitement as he did his best to recount to his mother the things he and his father got up to on top of the hill. His mother listened to him intently, helping him to find the words he did not know yet to describe the things he saw.

"I think it's time we start him with the scrolls," says Abdul 'Adl as he takes his wife's hand in his and kisses it gently.

"But he's only five, Abdul 'Adl. The Prophet, peace be upon him, said to play with them till they are seven," she brings his hand to her mouth and kisses the scar on his wrist.

He walks closer to her, cups her head in his free hand and lets it rest into his middle. Holding her like this for a tender moment, he lets go and starts.

"I know, Zahrah, but," he sighs and sits down, "he is vulnerable." He casts his gaze worryingly at the door, and then rests his dark eyes on hers; equally dark, but less burdened. "And anyway, that is for Adam's children."

His face relaxes as she smiles and shakes her head.

Softly, she advises.

"Unburden yourself, Abdul 'Adl. All will be as it should be."

She places Justus on the floor and he starts to play with his new toys. Zahrah gracefully gets up and takes a seat next to her husband.

She admires him for a moment, taking in his eyes, his face. She sighs and says.

"Five years to the day it's been since you took up arms." She takes his right palm and kisses it.

"Five years and the only hint of unrest your troubled thoughts." Gently she kisses his cheek. Turns her head and stares at their son. He stood nearly three feet tall. Hair, thick curls, reached his broad shoulders. He goes on his knees and Zahrah smiles as he tries to put the silver ball into the silver sphere.

"He'll have plenty of time to learn, to grow. Be as our Lord intended. Why rush what can't be undone? Why rush when he has had so little time to be a child?"

She rests her head into his chest.

He rests his cheek against her head.

"There are whispers that he approaches."

"He has been approaching since before even we were thought of. What will be will be."

They sit in silence and observe their son.

"I will seek help from The One who knows all." He gets up.

"Come, let's join the others for prayer."

He exits the room and heads in the direction of the house's prayer room.

"And We have guarded it (the heavens) from every accursed devil, except one who is able to snatch a hearing and he is pursued by a brightly burning flame"

Surah Al-Hijr (The Rocky Tract) 15:18

After the sunset prayer, Abdul 'Adl goes outside.

He stares at the sky.

The past few nights, there were many shooting stars visible to the south. There was however no activity tonight.

He was sure they were up to something, but what, was the question. He was about to return into the house, when he hears the soft rustling of dry leaves. Quickly he flicks the button on his wrist and a small ball floats into the air. He faces the darkness and says.

"Show yourself."

He waits; the ball ready to strike.

Slowly a black dog emerges from behind the trees. It moves deliberately slow in Abdul 'Adl's direction and stops a few feet away from him.

It growls softly and bares its teeth.

Its fur was short on its body and it could hardly be seen in the dark. Its eyes were orange-red.

It stomps with its front left paw into the soft soil and growls more.

"Show yourself," Abdul 'Adl says again, never breaking eye contact and ready to strike with the ball, hovering above his right hand.

The black dog howls and transforms.

"I should have known it was you, Burhan." Abdul 'Adl lets the ball return to its holder and relaxes, only slightly.

"You know I am the only friend you have."

Abdul 'Adl doesn't reply. Just keeps his gaze on his.

"I've come to see if you have changed your mind." He starts a slow pace from left to right, a grace to the way he moves, swift, secure, but as if there was no effort to it. He looks down for most of the time as he paces like this, only making eye contact when Abdul 'Adl starts.

"I thought I made myself explicitly clear." He seems almost annoyed having to say it.

Burhan turns and faces the trees, his back to Abdul 'Adl.

"Still not convinced?" He says under his breath.

He turns and faces Abdul 'Adl and glares at him.

"I am firm in my conviction," says Abdul 'Adl calmly.

Burhan smiles and shakes his head slowly side to side.

"It has been almost 300 years and still nothing has happened. Why do you do this to yourself? Look at the life you lead."

"I am content. I have enough."

Burhan shakes his head more.

"You could be a god. Worshipped and adored by these véry, pathetic, apes you so love."

Abdul 'Adl shakes his head in disagreement.

"All praise and worship is for Allah alone."

Burhan laughs.

"You're a fool."

Abdul 'Adl does not respond. Just stares at him.

Burhan paces again, his black cloak dragging in the soil as he moves. He stares Abdul 'Adl up and down. Abdul 'Adl was wearing a faded blue top that reached to below his knees and the same faded blue pants that reached to above his ankles, beneath that. He was wearing leather sock-like-shoes that were laced up, it reached high above his calves, covering the blue pants bottom. Burhan smirks and says again. "Fool."

Abdul 'Adl responds calmly. "You are the fool, for trusting, him. His words are only lies. Truth will never leave his lips. He was shown of the greatest signs and yet refused to believe. He is cursed forever. He calls you only to the fire."

Burhan stops pacing and stares at Abdul 'Adl. He focuses on his eyes.

"You're so convinced about this aren't you." He wasn't really asking. He just turns his back on Abdul 'Adl.

"Soon, you will get your wish." He turns only his head and says with a smirk, "Death. Adios."

He transforms into the black dog again, howls and disappears into the dark forest.

Abdul 'Adl scans the forest a while longer, goes into the house, turns in the door way and scans the skies one last time. Only the white moon was there to bid him good night.

"May you be guided a right," he sighs softly and closes the door.

Verily Satan is an enemy to you: so treat him as an enemy. He only invites his adherents that they may become Companions of the Blazing Fire.

Surah Fatir (The Originator) 35:6

"Dad, why do we always bake cake on Justus' birthday?" Asks Abdul 'Adl's eldest daughter.

Her eleven sisters raise their gaze in expectation of his answer.

They all seemed curious.

All of them were dressed in green silk dresses, with a gold embroidery finish. Their hair was in delicate net intertwined above their statuesque bodies. They all stood at least 6 feet tall.

Zahrah stares at her daughters and smiles. She knew what they meant. She also understood the reason behind her husband's motives.

She gently caresses his cheek as she passes him and places more food on the dinner table.

Mostly beef bones.

To the sides, around the center were lots of femurs, at least three dozen. To the left and right were a few tibia and fibula and right in the center were many sheep ribs, carefully stacked on top of each other.

The only things that had color were the homemade candy bars, nuts with honey and the enormous chocolate cake that stood at the head of the table where Abdul 'Adl was seated.

He kisses his wife's hand as she takes a seat at the end next to him.

She was eager to hear what he would indulge them with.

He takes in her smiling eyes.

Memorizes it.

Makes sure to emblazon it onto a canvas somewhere in the room of archives lovingly devoted to his muse.

He smiles and turns his attention to his daughters.

He had twelve daughters, all of them beautiful, all of them capable and all of them devoted to his cause.

He couldn't be more proud.

But to have a son, was always a longing he could scarcely hide, most especially from his beloved Zahrah.

The news of a son pushed him over the edge.

It is with this fondness in his heart, that he answers.

"Cake is both an indulgence and an opportunity to mend bridges." He takes three sips of water, holding the glass in his right hand.

He smiles at his confused daughters and adds.

"It is a treat for the senses and it can soften hardened hearts."

With that, he gracefully gets up, gently kisses his wife on her forehead, bows to his daughters and leaves to the room where Justus was still trying to fit the silver ball into the silver sphere.

His twelve daughters stare at their mother confused.

She smiles.

"Wise words from your beloved father. You be sure to remember them well."

They were more confused than before.

"Dad, why do you never take me to the lands of Mada?" asks Justus as he was trying to fit the silver ball into the silver sphere. Every time he thinks that he has it solved, the balls just hit against each other and return to their original state.

Abdul 'Adl smiles at the sight of his son trying to solve the mystery of the silver spheres. After almost twenty years, he still hasn't figured it out and he didn't show any sign that he was going to give up trying any time soon. Abdul 'Adl's smile however fades away just as swiftly as it appeared when he rests his gaze on the dark smog that smothered the lands of Mada, intoxicating everything that it touched. Nothing was immune to its cursed vapors. Trees refused to grow, the grass was brown and appeared as if it lost all hope, it all hung to the sides. Abdul 'Adl withdraws his thoughts and brings them back to his son.

"The wrath of Allah is upon those lands. It is best to steer clear of it, my son. Allah's wrath will envelop you if you tarry there, even if you were not guilty of the wrath descending there in the first place. It is not a place for us to wonder about. Not even if just to satisfy our curiosity."

Justus puts the silver spheres in his robe pockets and stares at his father.

"Why did Allah's curse descend upon the lands, father?"

Abdul 'Adl gestures for his son to move and at the same time he flaps his wings and Justus gets onto Abdul 'Adl's back as he transforms into a big flying creature and they ascend into the sky. They turn and circle the sky a few times, Justus holding onto the leather like feathers of the back of the creature's neck gently, but firmly. A few miles away from where the smog of Mada lay in wait, they descend. Justus jumps off the creatures back and Abdul 'Adl appears again. Lots of papers lay scattered on the ground that blew from a dump quarry to their left. He picks up one of the poster size papers. His face immediately darkens with anger. He balls his fists, the paper tares slightly. Abdul 'Adl relaxes his hand and gives the paper to his son.

"This is why these lands are cursed."

Justus takes the poster from his dad and reads the words inscribed in white with the red background.

"No Mohammad, No Mecca..." Justus reads surprised and almost immediately, he recognizes the enormity of these words.

"They speak ill of our Lord's beloved." He says more to himself.

"Not only that, they make a mockery of him and try their utmost to do exactly the opposite of the message that he brought us."

Justus immediately develops an intense hatred for the people of Mada and the lands itself. He always thought that they were perhaps just a bunch of rebels that preferred to live on the edge, but now he understood, that they were rebels against the Lord of the Worlds. And not only that, He was at war with them, because they were at war with His beloved. Justus didn't know much, but he knew enough to know that you are only at a loss when your Lord is against you. He sighs and looks up to his dad.

"I don't like it here dad, let's go back home."

Abdul 'Adl turns, knocks Justus into the air and transforms, Justus opens his legs and his father swoops in beneath him and they ascend into the sky. The sun was just past its highest peak and the shadows were starting to grow longer. There was a chill in the air and something smelled like wood burning. A hot wave hit them from behind. Abdul 'Adl flew faster and descended quickly, transforming into a white stallion with wings, that quickly disappeared, with Justus holding on to its mane as it raced down the hill towards their house. Just as they neared the house, it started galloping, throws Justus off and his father catches him in his arms.

"You got me." He smiles as his dad puts him down.

'You're getting too big for me to carry you like that."

They both laugh.

"What was that heat that came so suddenly?" asks Justus worriedly.

"Not sure, just a heat wave."

Justus nods in agreement.

"Felt like the fires of Jahannam took a deep breathe."

He turns and walks into the house.

Abdul 'Adl ponders the words of his son. He turns and focuses on the lands of Mada.

"Your first change is the most important," says Abdul 'Adl to Justus as they sat at the top of the hill, overlooking their house.

Sit was not exactly correct.

Justus sat on his father's lap, yes, but Abdul 'Adl was hovering in a crossed leg sitting position a few inches off the grass.

Justus had grown much bigger; he was now nearly six feet tall, his body had a symmetrical build, was much more musculature, with wide shoulders. In spite of this, he was still much smaller compared to his father.

Justus kept staring into the sky as his father spoke. He was relaxed on his father's lap and sat confidently with his hands free. There was a familiar support to the arch of his back and a lift of his feet as he sat almost on the edge of his father's knees.

A position of unspoken trust.

I got you.

"How you feel that day, will affect your change," Abdul 'Adl continued.

Justus turns and faces his father.

"What do you mean, father?"

Abdul 'Adl memorizes his son's curious brown eyes. They filled him with love.

His son always looked at him with admiration, always looked at him with humility, and always looked at him as if only he existed. His son had the rare ability to make him feel as if he was the greatest person alive. A feat only rivaled by his beloved wife Zahrah.

He locks the memory in place by blinking once, slowly.

As he opens his eyes, he starts.

"Think of it like this, if you are happy and at peace, the change will be gentle and easy. It is a feeling similar to changing from comfortable shoes to no shoes. You only feel better and it feels right."

Justus seems to comprehend.

"So if I am angry or sad, the change will be difficult and painful. Like being forced into shoes that are too small, uncomfortable."

Abdul 'Adl smiles.

"Right."

He takes a deep breath and scans the skies. There were no clouds, only the clear blue skies that stretched high above them.

He ponders for a while and says.

"Our Lord gives us signs all the time, if we only know to reflect, Justus."

Justus follows his father's eyes and focuses too.

He smiles and confidently says.

"See we not how He has raised the heavens and keeps them up with no pillars to support them." Justus looks at his father expectantly.

Abdul 'Adl smiles pleased. "Yes."

They both take in the silence accompanied only by the sound of a soft breeze gently stroking the grass.

"There is one more thing regarding the change you must never forget," Abdul 'Adl breaks the tranquil silence.

"It is probably the most important of all."

Justus turns and focuses his gaze on his father's eyes and face.

Their eyes meet and for a moment they are silent.

Abdul 'Adl continues.

"Your mood will determine what you will change into first, and this first body, will forever be the base of all other bodies."

Justus looked at his father as if he understood.

He closes his eyes and ponders this for a while.

"But Allah is merciful, remember that always."

Justus opens his eyes and smiles.

Abdul 'Adl smiles too.

Justus sits back up and stares out into the distance.

"Are you sure we are in the right place?"

Abdul 'Adl asked as he scanned the room they were in.

"I can't see any traces that anyone has been here. Are you sure we are in the right place?"

He asks again agitated.

Alone, here, was not ideal.

The lands of Mada were home only to those that indulged themselves.

If you were here, it was either that you had lost all hope or craved more than what you could ever bare to live with.

Only fools think they can bare it.

Thus Mada was known as the land of fools to those that fought against the resistance.

Defending the children of Adam.

The very ones, the land of Mada opposed.

Abdul 'Adl scanned the room one last time, before going the way he came in and exiting the building.

He stares at the posters against the outside walls.

All of them the same.

He balls his fists, flaps his wings hard, ascending, and heads to the next building.

Abdul 'Adl scans the building from the door way before he enters.

Satisfied that there was no one inside, he enters it.

There was nothing much in the abandoned building except for a few crates and lots of rubbish.

To the center of the room there was evidence of a fire.

He inspects it from up close.

The black ash was in a specific pattern on the ground.

He shakes his head disapprovingly.

He balls his fists as he gets up.

Before exiting the building, he gives it one last scan and leaves.

"It seems you were right," says Abdul 'Adl, as he approaches Abdul Razzaq.

Abdul Razzaq shakes his head in agreement.

"I am sure they are up to no good."

They both stare at the posters against the buildings.

"May Allah forgive us."

"Amen," says Abdul Razzaq as Abdul 'Adl turns.

He turns too.

"What are we going to do?" He seems agitated.

Abdul 'Adl turns and faces him.

"We must intervene. If Allah so wills."

Abdul Razzaq meets his gaze. For a while they just stare at each other.

Slowly he nods.

"May Allah protect us."

I'll race you.

They both flap their wings hard and ascend into the murky sky.

"How far did we travel?"

Abdul 'Adl was slightly out of breath.

"This is about 315 miles from where we were. Everything points here," says Abdul Razzaq with a smile.

"Took me ten minutes to get here and you almost fifteen, you're getting old, old friend." He also takes a few deep breathes to regain his strength.

"If it wasn't for those interceptors, I wouldn't have had to go the long way around," says Abdul 'Adl annoyed.

"They must know we are here. Better be alert."

Abdul Razzaq nods in agreement.

They stand at the open door and listen.

With Bismillah, they both enter.

They scan the room.

There was evidence that someone was just here. There was a candle burning in the right corner of the room and some food stood on the square table in the left corner. A lot of Coca-Cola posters lined the left and right walls.

Abdul 'Adl balls his fists.

They hear a noise.

Unable to say with certainty where it came from, Abdul Razzaq heads out the way they came in, while Abdul 'Adl inspects the room more.

He went to the table.

The plate was filled with a fillet of fish and vegetables. It was untouched.

Water was boiling over the fire that was to the center of the room.

Abdul 'Adl hears the noise again.

It sounded like someone was stepping on straw.

It was coming from the wall to his left.

He steps closer and listens.

There was definitely something next door. This room was definitely not accessible from outside, so he decides to enter it from a very small hole at the bottom left corner, by transforming into a snake. He slithers through the hole.

As soon as he enters the room, there was a snap as a cage closes.

He was trapped.

A figure approaches and picks up the small cage.

"Finally got you, you blind fool. I wouldn't bother trying to transform. The master has put an enchantment on it."

He gives a sinister laugh.

"The master has big plans for your family. This is only the beginning."

He gives a few fits as he laughs more.

"How pleased I am to be the one to deliver you to your doom."

He stares at the snake as he dangles the cage in front of him.

"I will be allowed to sit on the throne as my reward."

He smiles pleased.

"And I will forever be remembered as the one who brought the great Abdul 'Adl, Defender of the Apes, to his death."

"I convinced your father to wait for this day and here we are, seventeen years later." Zahrah removes a crease from the shoulder of his white shirt and stands away from the mirror.

Justus stares at his reflection.

Though smaller in size and build, he was the spitting image of his father.

He admires his clothes.

Soft white material, not like he has ever worn before.

"What material is this?"

Zahrah smiles.

"It's from the lands of Arabia. It's the same..."

"The Prophet, peace be upon him, used to wear?"

Zahrah nods yes.

"You're father wanted it to be special. He wanted it to be strictly according to the Sunnah. You know how he loves them."

"I do."

Justus stands tall.

Turns and starts.

"Why did you wait till I was 23?"

Zahrah sighs.

Gracefully she steps off the small step and gestures for Justus to join her at the round table in the center of the room.

The room was filled with cloths of different materials and beautiful bright colors. Many scrolls lay on the desk and the walls were covered with paintings of gold, all Arabic calligraphy.

As Justus sits down next to her, she gently caresses his cheek and cups his chin.

"My dear, perfect boy."

She smiles.

"If your father had his way, you would have started your scrolls when you were five."

Justus looks at her surprised.

"Then why didn't he?"

Zahrah frowns.

She reflects for a moment.

Seems to make a decision, opens the top drawer of the table and removes a scroll with a gold ring around it. A word was inscribed on the ring.

She hands the scroll to Justus.

He takes it, slowly turns it and reads the word.

"Just."

Intrigued, Justus faces his mother.

"It is the meaning of your name."

He ponders this for a second.

"It is time you knew."

Justus puts down the scroll and listens intently.

"Your father gave you that name. You are the first of us, any of us, to bare that name." Zahrah puts her hand to her son's.

"It is not from us, but from them. Adam's children."

Justus focuses his eyes on hers, narrowing them to the point that they seemed like small black slits.

"He loved them so, that he named you after one of them he met a few hundred years ago. Someone he helped. A noble man. He was Latin. Justus is Latin."

Justus' eyes widens.

"Is dad not the slave of the Just?"

Zahrah nods yes.

"It is true. He wanted his son to have the same name, but wanted it to have a connection to Adam, so that you would grow to love them, care for them and ultimately, protect them with justice."

Justus seemed to understand.

"I was the one that said all of this must wait."

Justus looks at her intrigued.

"I wanted you to be my son for just a little while longer. Before you transformed and would be changed forever."

Justus continued to listen.

"That is what this means, dear son. You will be changed forever and you will never be able to take it back. Change is good, but this change is permanent and you will never be able to get back to being one, to being carefree, to being a child."

He ponders these words of his mother.

He nods.

"I understand."

Zahrah sighs.

"But it is time. These scrolls contain the verses of the Qur'an you must recite with firm belief and you'll be able to transform. Once it is done, it is permanent."

His mother sighs more.

"Are you sad, mother?"

She smiles and says.

"Only sad that the time flew by so quickly."

She caresses his cheek.

She smiles.

"This is a gift from our Creator. It is part of how He made you. If I am anything, I am happy."

She cups his cheek.

"I know you'll use your gift wisely."

The dark figure puts the cage with the snake onto a small pillar and waits for the rest of the hooded figures to enter the dark room. They were three.

The one that entered last begins.

"We must be sure that there is a witness. This must go to court."

They agree.

"Our lord wants the boy to see the reality. Only then will he see reason.'

The one that entered second starts.

"Be sure that he is killed. He must not survive. Only then will this work."

The second one agrees.

"I have made sure that our host is ready to strike the final blow. He already asked that whoever was here should leave or face death."

"Did he ask three times?"

Asked the one that entered last.

"Indeed."

"Then he is ready to kill."

The second one smiles.

"I have watched him. He is scared of snakes. They unnerve him, considers them to be evil. Bloody apes. Calls everything they don't know evil. Just as well."

The first one looks at them.

"Let's not forget who thought of the hole in the wall. Any smaller and he might have transformed into a mouse, any bigger, perhaps a rat, and where would we be now."

The two stare at him.

"Dumb luck."

The last one that enters turns.

"Let's not lose focus. He must still be killed. Make sure the fool slave Razzaq sees what happens."

He gestures for the second that entered to leave the room.

He follows.

"Make sure he cannot escape. We will not get this opportunity again."

He disappears into the darkness.

The one remaining picks up the cage and stares at the snake intently.

A sinister smile plays across his face.

He says.

"Pity you are so stubborn. With us, you could have been great. Much greater than you already are."

He breathes deeply, his smile gone.

"I envied you for such a long time. Did you know that?"

He seems to wait for an answer that didn't come.

"It almost consumed me whole."

He paces gracefully with the cage high.

"If only you had seized this business and joined us. Then perhaps you could have a destiny, a different destiny. One in which you too lived forever. You could have been Immortal. A god."

He shakes his head.

"But no. You chose this, and look where it lead you, straight to your demise."

He brings the cage closer to his face and stares at the snake intently.

"You yearned for death. Well, it has finally come. You'll see that your bones will rot and you will never live again. Why you follow the sayings of that mad man, baffles me. We only live once. And I choose to live. Forever."

He sneers.

A deep growl seems to come from his body.

He places the cage on the ground.

"This ape has been trying to speak to us."

He laughs.

"Thinks he can trust us."

Laughs louder.

"Fool. Just like you."

He disappears for a second.

Noises could be heard coming from the yard at the back of the house.

Someone was approaching.

He appears in the room again.

"He is coming."

With a flick of his hand, the cage door opens.

Slowly, the snake slithers out.

It seems disoriented.

"The effects of the enchantment."

The cage disappears.

"Adios."

He too disappears.

Just then the door at the back opens.

Abdul Razzaq was still outside when he hears the door slam hard.

He flaps his wings hard once and was immediately at the door that was swaying back and forth.

Abdul 'Adl was lying on the ground. Abdul Razzaq recognized him by his mark to the right of his head.

He stares at the young man that entered the room; definitely a Muslim.

He wore a teal thobe that reached to below his knees and white pants. A modest turban covered his head.

The man was busy talking to Abdul 'Adl.

"I warned you to leave my house. You are not welcome here."

Anxiously he moved to the wall.

Below the Coca-Cola poster was a hook from which hung a pitch fork.

He takes it and moves closer to Abdul 'Adl who still made no real effort to move.

Realizing what was about to happen, Abdul Razzaq, still hidden, shouts.

"Abdul 'Adl! Transform or he will kill you!"

He walks more into the room, panicked and afraid.

"Please Abdul 'Adl!! Transform, just this once. Discard your rules!" He pleas.

He was standing behind Abdul 'Adl, facing the man that was ready to strike.

"Please, Abdul 'Adl. Move and transform! He is going to kill you." Desperate and scared.

The pitch fork rose high.

Abdul Razzaq, decides to dash forward and grab Abdul 'Adl, but something kept him from coming any closer to the snake on the ground.

An invisible barrier was cloaking Abdul 'Adl.

Magic, Abdul Razzaq realized. He recognized the traces on the floor.

It was the same as the portal they were at earlier.

This was definitely the other door.

He stared at the man.

He must be the conjurer.

Fuelled with rage he decides to show himself.

But it was too late.

Just as he appears in front of the man, the fork stabs hard into the snake's head.

The snake twitches slightly then goes limp.

Abdul 'Adl was dead.

The man let's go of the fork and falls hard to the ground, frightened by the figure that appeared in front of him.

"Oh, forgive me!" He shouts frantically.

Abdul Razzaq just stares at him.

Stares at Abdul 'Adl.

You're coming with me.

The man covers his ears.

"How are you in my head?"

He cowers more to the wall.

"Please, I won't fool around with the knots anymore. I realize now that it is dangerous. Why it is forbidden."

Abdul Razzaq sneers.

You should have thought about that before you trapped then slayed my friend.

"What friend? Who did I kill? When?"

Abdul Razzaq stares at the snake.

He goes on his right knee and murmurs something under his breath.

Gently he holds the snake down and swiftly pulls out the fork.

Pointing it at the man as if he was about to strike him with it.

Panicking more, the man cowers more to the wall.

"I didn't know that was a... person..." His voice was shaky.

"I just thought it was a snake that was after my baby."

He points to the empty bird cage that hung from the roof.

Abdul Razzaq stares at the cage, glares at the man.

The court will decide your fate.

This is murder.

We are entitled to blood-wit.

You should know the law.

Without waiting for a response, he gracefully goes on his knees. Gently picks up the snake and gets up. He grabs hold of the man and they all disappear.

There was a huge crowd gathered at the court house. The room was filled all the way to the last beam of the ceiling. Many stood at the door and lined the whole corridor that led to the lobby and out of the main entrance. Outside, a huge crowd was chanting and screaming. It was not often that a son of Adam was brought into their midst. They were all fascinated by him.

The man was scared by all the strange creatures that surrounded him. They looked similar to humans, but they were definitely not human. He finally believed. As the reality sinks in, he prays. He wanted to see these things and now he was not only seeing them, but he was in their realm. Was he dreaming? It couldn't be. How can his mind make up all of this? It all looks so real. But he was not sure, or, he would have preferred that it was not. Everyone looks hostile. Perhaps he was about to die. He keeps on praying.

From where he was sitting behind a silver sphere, he recognized the one that brought him here. It was talking to a few of these creatures that seemed to be focused on him. He averts his gaze and pretends to be staring at the wall.

Suddenly, a large figure appears from nowhere in front of him. It looks at him curiously.

It was wearing what resembled a thobe, but the material was nothing like he had ever seen before. It made the thing's body seem very graceful.

That was the word he wanted to describe it with. As it suddenly dawns on him, all of the creatures had a very graceful movement about them, but it was not only that, it was their shape. It was graceful. It was sleek and well defined. He admired that about them. As it starts moving towards the elevated platform in the center of the room, he notices that there were several layers to the hue of the blue thobe. It was lightest at the top and darkest at the bottom. The color also appeared as if it was liquid. Or perhaps it was the material. He couldn't be sure. This fascinated him more. Despite all this, he was now more nervous. The sweat was running down his forehead into his neck. He knew he was in trouble. He should never have gotten himself mixed up with the knots. He kept on asking forgiveness under his breath.

The room goes quiet as the thing reaches the hovering chair on top of the elevated platform and it turns to face him. It was about 32 feet away. He sat in an empty space of the room and the rest of the crowd sat about 65 feet in a circle around them. They were all eager for the trial to begin.

"In the name of Allah, The Ever Gracious, The Ever Bestower of Mercy, I open these proceedings. For the sake of this son of Adam, we will speak in his language so that he will not be left unable to defend himself." It stares at the man and then sits down.

A small ball of light descends from the beam above the man and transforms into one of them a few feet away from him. The man gasps out loud. He was both enthralled and scared. How did these things do that? Manipulate their bodies and in these very different and obscure ways. He ponders that only a while, but is soon dreading for his life again as the thing approaches him.

"You have been brought to the courts of those that serve the Lord of the Worlds and you are charged with the murder of one of our kind. For the record, state your name." It moves gracefully about the floor as if it was floating. Its robes were a similar blue to the one in the chair in the center, but it was one solid color only, not like the textured hues of the other.

The man clears his throat and wipes the sweat running from his forehead.

"My...my... na...na... name is... Jihad... Jihad bin Abdul Latif." He says softly. He coughs slightly and lowers his gaze.

"Please speak up. It is in your best interest to be heard. The odds are not in your favor," says the one that opened the proceedings. It stares at the man as if waiting for a reply.

"My na...name... My name is Jihad bin Abdul Latif," says the man more confidently. He tucks at his turban and straightens his back.

"Son of Adam, do you deny the charge that has been brought against you?" Asks the one that stood a few feet away from him, the blue of its thobe seems to darken as it asks this question.

Jihad looks at him confused. He turns his head and stares at the crowd to his left. The one that brought him here was among them. It seems outraged.

There was a strange pulsing redness to the clothes it was wearing. These pulses were in tune with the ripples that came and went along its temples. Jihad swallows hard.

"I am innocent of what you charge me with. I didn't murder any of you," he says fast and loud. He swallows more and wipes the sweat from his face.

"He is lying!" Shouts Abdul Razzaq.

"Calm yourself," says the one on the platform.

Abdul Razzaq sneers. The red pulses were now a deeper red, almost black. He bangs with his clenched fist on the railing in front of him. This unnerves Jihad more. He hopes that they will not allow him to be attacked while the proceedings are underway. He was not sure what to expect from these things. Did they do things the way humans did? He was not convinced. There did seem to be order in the room though, despite this outburst.

"Your plea of innocence is acknowledge by the court," says the one that was questioning him. It turns and addresses the one on the elevated platform.

"We call the witness, Abdul Razzaq, to bring evidence against this... man." He gestures for Abdul Razzaq to come.

The railing disappears in front of Abdul Razzaq and he steps forward. It closes behind him as he moves to join them. A silver chair appears, starts to hover in front of him and he sits down. He sneers at Jihad.

"Please state for the record your purpose for entering the realm of man that resulted in the subsequent death of our kind." Its clothes go almost pale blue. It turns to face Abdul Razzaq and waits for his response.

"Abdul 'Adl and I were patrolling the outskirts of the rebel lands when we came across what appears to be an abandoned outpost. There was evidence of dark forces at work, particularly traces of sorcery. There was evidence of an incantation on the floor of one of the buildings. We realized it was a portal. We traced the door to this man's dwelling. We did not suspect any of us to be involved and was thus more relaxed." The regret was evident in his voice as he says that. "We let our guard down. This man is a master magician and must be sentenced to death for his crime." His voice goes suddenly cold.

"I swear. I am not a sorcerer. I merely fooled around with a few knots. They never worked, I always thought."

"Silence!" Shouts the questioner.

"When I tried to stop him from killing Abdul 'Adl, I was held back by a powerful incantation. I also fear that Abdul 'Adl was being kept from transforming by an inhibitor of sorts. He is the one that works the knots. He should answer." Abdul Razzaq sneers at him.

"Do you deny these accusations made against you? What do you have to say in your defense?"

"I am innocent of these outrages claims!" He shouts. "I am and have never been a sorcerer. It is true that I fooled around with the knots, but that was it. I was never really good at it. Nothing I ever tried to do worked. I swear. I am innocent of these things."

"Why did you attempt to blow on the knots in the first place?"

Jihad looks down embarrassed.

'I wanted to... see... a Jinn." He looks up and straightens his back again. More sweat trickled down his temples and into his neck.

"More like capture a Jinn!" Shouts Abdul Razzaq.

"Please produce the record against this man."

Suddenly the sphere in front of Jihad comes to life as images were projected into the air. He gasps out loud when he sees himself in the image in front of him. Overcome with fear he watches as he grabs the fork from the hook beneath the Coca-Cola poster and then proceeds to stab the snake in its head. There is a sudden uproar from the crowd surrounding them, even the ceiling beams seem to vibrate loudly.

"Do you deny that that is you, stabbing one of us to his death?"

Jihad calms himself and starts.

'I do not deny killing the snake. But I swear, I didn't know that it was not a snake. I was merely defending myself from being harmed by it. I do not like snakes. I also feared that it would eat my baby. My...my poor birdy." He sobs.

"Servant of the Lord of the Worlds, the evidence against this man is overwhelming and here is the irrefutable proof of his cruel and calculated act. Not only did he kill our kin, but he ensnared him with that which is forbidden, leaving him unable to defend himself. We deserve justice and demand that he face death by stoning."

The whole courtroom cheers loudly. They were all in agreement.

"Silence during these proceedings, please. We are in the court of our Lord. Silence." The one on the elevated platform gets up from his chair and descends to the area where Jihad was being questioned.

He stares at Jihad, admires him from up close. Sweat was running down Jihad's tan skin like it was water flowing from his temples. These were very prominent, almost as if they were about to rupture. Jihad's curly, dark hair was just visible underneath the stylish, cream turban, which was soaked all the way through at the bottom. Jihad's usually bewitching, deep-set, topaz brown eyes were bewildered and darting between the three that was in front of him. Now and then he noticed that things were moving on the beams of the ceiling. They appeared as tiny specks of light, perhaps fireflies, which he sure was them watching him. The sheer amount of balls he was able to identify made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. There were literally hundreds of them on just one beam, all against just him. He tried his best to hide his fear from the one that was staring at him curiously.

"I am inclined to agree with the evidence that was presented against you here today," it says with a monotonous voice. He turns and addresses the crowd.

"It is the first death of our kind by a son of Adam in almost a millennium. We cannot let this go unpunished. If we let this son of Adam get away with his crime, who knows how many others might attempt to do the same. Is there any evidence that the rebels of the cursed lands of Mada are not somehow involved with this? Perhaps they were working together." He turns and faces Jihad.

"Are you working with them, son of Adam?" His voice changes a few bars as he emphasizes son a bit more. His thobe's color changes from the layered hues to a very uniform, dark navy.

Jihad takes in his face. It had a youthfulness to it, though Jihad was sure the thing was not young. Despite it not being human, it had similar features, two eyes, a nose and a mouth. Its face was diamond shaped, with a prominent cleft chin. The eyes were what struck him the most. It was as if the eyes were alive. Like they had life of their own, this was clear. Things were happening in the eyes that seemed to be unrelated to what the thing was doing. Jihad was sure of this. He was fascinated by it. The thing had a long broad neck that flowed gracefully into its broad shoulders that suited its statuesque figure. As the rest, the thing seemed to be floating in the air.

Jihad clears his throat.

"I do not understand your question. Are you asking whether I am working with one of your kind?" He doesn't avert his gaze.

"Our kind, yes. A Jinn. You say you have been trying to see us? Are you working with one of us?" The words leave his mouth eloquently. It was hard to pick up any sort of emotion from it.

"I tried to see... you... yes, but I was never successful. I swear. I am not a magician. I was merely curious." He looks down. His whole body appeared defeated.

"May I speak," says Abdul Razzaq.

"You may," agrees the head.

Abdul Razzaq rises from the chair. It disappears. He gracefully moves to where he was in view of the others in the room. The red pulses Jihad observed earlier had stopped, but his temples were still pulsing. He seemed a bit bigger than the two that had been questioning him. His face was more oblong, his chin very broad. His eyes were doing the same thing Jihad observed in the eyes of the head.

"Abdul 'Adl was one of our best soldiers against the rebel forces. Not only did he dedicate his life to standing up for justice, he also embodied what we can only describe as an unconditional and unwavering love for the children of Adam, a love that was deeply instilled by the words of the Last Prophet, the Beloved of our Lord."

He moves gracefully to his right and turns to face Jihad.

"The same Beloved that this son of Adam is making a mockery of. The sphere in front of Jihad comes to life and again the image of Jihad removing the fork from the hook appears for all to see. The image enlarges and is paused. Look." Abdul Razzaq points to the words against the wall.

There is a sudden buzzing of hundreds of voices in the room, but it all quiets down when the head makes a slight gesture with his right hand.

"More however is the weapon of choice used by this man to kill our brother. The horned stick of that cursed, wretched fool."

"That is a fork. I use it in my garden. It is not a horned stick. It is just a fork. Please, I do not know what you are talking about. What are these words you are referring to?"

Everyone stares at Jihad.

"Most damning is the clear evidence of that which is forbidden. This son of Adam must be brought to justice." Abdul Razzaq sneers and returns to where he was standing originally before he was asked to testify. The railing opens and closes behind him.

"I swear, I do not know how to do magic. I am not a magician. This is the truth. I will make an oath that Allah can strike me dead right now if I am lying," he pleas.

The room goes quiet as if they were waiting for something to happen.

There is a slight commotion at the door, as a very elderly looking man enters. It was dragging its feet and was not as graceful in its movements as the rest. Its hair was grey and shoulder length. Its grey beard reached to just above its abdomen.

"If I may, servant of our Lord." He bows in humility and waits.

"You may speak, respected elder." The head bows his head too.

The old one nods his head and walks more towards the sphere with the paused image.

He stares at the image a while. He makes a gesture with his hand and it plays again. The image rewinds and suddenly the audio kicks in.

The door sways and bangs hard to and fro. Then Jihad comes into view, with the snake lying on the ground.

"I warned you to leave my house. You are not welcome here."

Jihad walks towards the wall. He makes a wide circle around the snake.

The image pauses.

The old Jinn turns and for the first time address Jihad.

"My name is Abd Al Hakim. I was curious. Why did you say that?" He stares at Jihad.

Jihad was somehow comforted by the old Jinn's eyes. They were also sort of grey, like its hair.

"It was not the first time that I saw the snake in my house. I had seen it at least three times before."

The old Jinn eyed him curiously.

"I am not sure, but I remember a saying of the Prophet, sallallahu alaihi wasallam, that if a creature enters your house without permission, you must ask it to leave. If after three requests it still remains, you can assume it is hostile. Or something like that. I don't remember exactly. But that is what I was focused on when I saw the snake. I assumed it wanted to hurt me or my baby. That is her cage. I let her out during the day."

The old one nods his head as if in thought. He turns and walks to where he was in clear view of everyone.

"I believe that this man is innocent. The evidence is right in front of us. He clearly says to Abdul 'Adl 'you are not welcome here'. The fact that he used a horned stick is of no significance since these are common tools to the son of Adam."

He stares at the image again.

"I don't think he is aware of the treacherous words that are there. You heard him yourself, he sent peace upon the Prophet. That does not coincide with one that wishes to mock him."

He turns and walks towards the image. He inspects it closely.

"I believe this man is being framed. You mentioned the portal door was at an abandoned outpost on the outskirts of the rebel lands," he eyes Abdul Razzaq, "I suspect someone from Mada did all of this."

He turns and faces Jihad.

"Curious. Indeed. Why would they want to frame you? Unless, of course, there is an even greater plot that is yet to become known to us. Curious indeed." His voice was melodious and gentle. It somehow reassured Jihad.

"If you recall there was once a case of another son of Adam killing one of us," he pauses, runs his eyes across the peering crowd, "and just as now, there was also a wet thirst for his blood." He turns and faces Jihad.

"I come now to aid this, son of Adam, the same as the companion of the Prophet, sallallahu alaihi wasallam, our brother, came to the aid of that accused. He testified that the Prophet, sallallahu alaihi wasallam, said that if anyone, man or jinn, takes the form of another creature and is killed, then the killing is forgiven, blood wit is no more and the killer cannot be punished."

The mutinies mumbling murmurs muddle the court room and once again the head had to call the room to order. Abdul Razzaq was the loudest of them all and he was not pleased with what the old jinn was saying.

"Furthermore," continued the old one, "this son of Adam admits to having asked..." he walks closer to Jihad, "... the snake... to leave his house." He turns to face Abdul Razzaq.

"Brother, defender of our great city, servant of our Lord most high, I bear the loss of our dear brother with you. My heart too burns with the ferocity of the flames of hell to see justice be done, believe me... But I beg you to see reason. There is more hidden here than is openly disclosed."

He keeps his gaze on Abdul Razzaq and points to Jihad. "Does this really look like a magician to you?"

Abdul Razzaq stares at Abd Al Hakim and slowly turns and rests his eyes on Jihad. Jihad's clothes were soaked through with sweat, he was visibly shaking and his eyes were filled with fear. Abdul Razzaq sighs and says, "No, he does not."

Jihad sighs and appears somewhat relieved.

Abd Al Hakim nods in appreciation.

"We must let this man go back to his home. I also implore the court to see reason. There is more to this sad death of Abdul 'Adl then our senses are able to perceive.

Now more than ever we must not let our guard down. The enemy has infiltrated our city and they mean to bring disorder within our ranks. We must proceed with caution."

He bows to the head and disappears amongst the crowd at the door.

The head turns and address the crowd.

"I find this man innocent of any wrong doing and order his safe return to his home. We must come to the bottom of this. Abdul Razzaq, you will deliver the news to the family, hopefully the news has not reached their ears. May Allah make your task easy for all of us."

"Son of Adam, you are free to go." He eyes Jihad curiously. "Dark are the depths of the path of the dwindling magician... Seize this foolish business of the knots. It is forbidden."

He turns and disappears.

Abdul Razzaq sneers. Grabs Jihad and the two of them disappear as well.

Say: I seek refuge in the Lord of the Daybreak

From the evil of that which He created;

From the evil of the darkness when it is intense,

And from the evil of malignant witchcraft,  
And from the evil of the envier when he envieth.

Surah Falaq (The Daybreak) 113:1-5

Justus was waiting for his father on top of the hill. He was seated between the shadow of their favorite tree and the light of the sun, dressed in his white clothes, that his mother gave him for this special occasion, clasping the scrolls in his right hand.

Today was the day he was going to be changed forever.

He was very excited. Over the years he had always wanted to do what his father was capable of doing; change into different shapes and creatures of all kinds. He was fascinated by it. Not only was he excited about transforming, but the thought of being able to fly was exhilarating. He was a fast runner, but flying would make him even faster.

While he waits, he decides to play with his silver ball and silver sphere.

He promised himself that on the day he transformed, he would have successfully merge the silver ball into the silver sphere. He had been trying to get it right since he was five years old. Now at twenty-three, he thought it was high time he got it right.

Justus struggled though. Just as the silver ball seems to align inside the sphere, it would plop out as if it was a drop of water dripping from a tap. It just never stayed inside the sphere. Justus was very frustrated by it. Today of all days, it was no longer just a challenge to overcome, but it was a must to get it right. He felt it was all part of his transformation from being a child, to becoming one of the defenders.

He decides to give it up and scans the skies for his father. His eyes come to rest on the lands of Mada. There seems to be a big celebration today, with all sorts of red flames that went into the sky. The sick grey layer was growing black at the top, as if it was being fed by whatever they were shooting. Justus sighs. Something about Mada always made his stomach turn. He was not sure why it always happened. All he knew was that he didn't like the place.

He gets up off the grass, just in time to see Abdul Razzaq enter their house. His dad must have entered first. His father must still be hard at work and that must be the reason for his delay. He sprints down the hill and makes the long stretch to their house in a matter of seconds. Without the need to stop and catch his breath, he enters the house. It was quiet inside. His sisters were all out, he knew. They were shopping for the celebration that would be starting right after the sun would set. There was also no trace of his mother. He heads to the room that his father used as an office.

The door was slightly ajar.

He stands by the door and listens.

He only saw Abdul Razzaq inside.

"Show me." He heard his mother's voice come from behind the silk screen in the center of the room. Her father was definitely not here. That is the only time his mother would veil herself like that. If his father was present, she would just be wearing a scarf.

There was an awkward silence and then his mother says again. "Show me." Justus could not be sure, but there was something different to his mother's tone. He had never heard her like that before.

Abdul Razzaq sighs and clicks the button on his wrist.

Bright light fills the room.

"I'm sorry, beloved of my dear brother. I might as well be dead as well."

These words strike fear into Justus' heart. What was going on? What was his dad's friend talking about?

The light dims and slowly images start to fill the room.

Justus watches as a man storms into view, grabs a pointed metal stick and rams it hard into a snake's head.

Justus' heart skips a beat as he hears his mom's voice break. There was no mistaking it. She was distraught. He had never heard her cry before. He didn't know how to react. He was still not sure what was going on. He continues watching the image. A hand reaches over and pulls the metal stick out of the snake's head; it looked like Abdul Razzaq's hand. Justus looks at the snake closer. He recognizes the markings on the side of the head. It was three distinct red spots. It was part of the base form his father took. The realization sinks in. That was his father that was stabbed in the head.

He lets out an uncontrollable cry of grieve. It was louder than his mother's. Abdul Razzaq turns and faces him. Justus ignores him and stares at the dark skinned man in the image. He focuses on the deep-set, golden, topaz eyes; memorizes it. Before Abdul Razzaq could stop him, Justus storms out of the house into the dark forest.

The forest was dark in spite of the white moon that spied in from up above. Justus had ventured into the forest before, but never this far. It didn't matter. He was not in his rational state of mind. All he knew was that his father was dead. That man with the tan skin and golden eyes was responsible. It was his first time to see a man and immediately he had an intense hatred for them.

The scroll was crushed in his right hand. He unfolds it.

He stares into the sky as if looking for some sign. The forest was quiet. No gentle wind to caress his cheeks to console him, no birds singing a cheerful melody to comfort him, just the still of the night, the darkness of death.

He looks at the scrolls, hesitates, but decides to go ahead.

He recites the words quick and fast.

A red glow comes to his skin and wings tears through his clothes. It was done. He takes the scrolls and tosses them on the ground.

With a deafening scream he ascends into the air and circles above the trees. In the distance he sees his mother and Abdul Razzaq. He screams again. Before they could react, he turns and flies in the direction of the lands of Mada.

It was faint.

But he was sure.

He heard his mother's voice.

A cry of despair.

Burhan was standing outside the crypt gate when Justus arrives. He was in his human form and didn't seem surprised to see Justus.

"I have been waiting for you," he says casually.

"Come, son of my brother." He gestures for Justus to come closer.

Hesitantly, Justus approaches him.

He puts his arms around Justus and gently pulls him to his chest.

"Terrible thing that has happened, and you so young, it isn't fair." He strokes Justus' head and neck.

"I tried to plea with your father to not trust the children of Adam, but he was so enamored by the sayings of that mad man, that he was blind to reason, couldn't see the treachery of their hearts. They really are a bunch of animals. Look at the way they viciously, horrifically, cold heartedly, took that metal fork and violently stabbed your father in his head. Dead!"

He sighs dramatically.

"Justus, I promise. I will help you hunt down this ruthless killer and together we will make him and his children suffer."

Justus pulls away and takes in his gaze.

"Do you know who he is, uncle Burhan?"

Burhan nods his head. "Not only do I know who he is, but I know where he lives. Don't worry, dear son of my brother. I will not rest until he is brought to justice."

He turns and gestures to the entrance of the crypt.

"This is the dominion of our Lady Bri. Swear allegiance to her; join her forces against these animals, these apes. They are all the same, cruel, malicious and vile. Why your father could not see that, I never understood. They had him bewitched and with their enchantments, they ensnared and killed him."

He walks towards the entrance.

"Join her and you will be honored. Join her and you will have your revenge."

He disappears into the darkness.

Hesitantly Justus pauses at the door. He had made up his mind.

He too disappears into the darkness.
The Handler

#William

#Christmas

"I told her to stop, but she refused."

William sighs.

"Since the first time it happened, she was hooked. Kept opening herself to what she called her spirit guides."

He fights hard to hold back the tears.

"I dreamt of her again last night."

He can't look up.

Mumbles under his breath.

"She was mocking me. Calling me names."

He looks up.

"It hurts me. It chips away at me. The woman I loved. The cause of so much hurt."

He looks down.

"I sometimes wish I never knew her. Never."

#GetUsedToIt

Bob Jones was sitting at his desk when William knocks lightly on his glass office door and casually walks in. For the past two days, this has happened frequently. Bob doesn't look up as William closes the door behind him and goes to take a seat at the desk.

"There is nothing I love more than a smoked salmon and feta cheese toast. Sweet Sarah always spoils me rotten. Lucky old bastard I am that I got myself such a big hearted, caring wife." He takes a bite of his toast and offers a slice to William.

William first gestures no, but with an encouraging wink from Bob, he takes one and bites into it.

"Scrumptious." He says as he savours it.

"Sweet Sarah. Best thing that ever happened to me." He turns in his chair and stares out the floor to ceiling length window. "When you have a wife you must appreciate her, take care of her, cause the Good Lord knows, she's going to take care of you."

William nods his head in agreement as he puts the last bit of toast into his mouth.

He clears his throat and pours himself some of the water standing in a jar on the table.

"Mr Jones, have you got any news for me?" William seems tense. Sweat was running from his curly, dark brown hair, down his pulsing temple, into his neatly trimmed beard. His navy blue, double button, soft woven, gabardine cotton dress shirt was wet along its high collar. He takes a handkerchief from his solid, cream ivory, linen dress pants pocket and wipes the sweat from his neck. His chocolate, split toe, penny loafers, made a soft tapping noise against the marble floor as William nervously tapped his left foot.

Bob keeps staring out the window as he finishes his toast. He gently brushes off a few crumbs from his retro, long sleeve, black paisley shirt with vintage palace flowers print. He turns in his chair and faces William.

"How is lovely Michelle doing? She alright, is she?" Bob asks. He was wheezing a bit and sounded almost out of breathe. His voice was slightly hoarse.

"She's been... busy." William swallows hard.

"She is still in the dark about this, is she?" Bob brings his gaze level with William's and stares into his bewildered, smoky-blue, grey eyes.

"Thankfully, yes," says William as if he was relieved. He takes his handkerchief and wipes the sweat from his forehead. "If she knew..." he doesn't finish and just shakes his head disapprovingly.

Bob gets up from his chair and stretches his back. His belly protrudes from his un-tucked shirt. He pulls up his black, casual dress pants over his belly and stretches more. He starts pacing around in the office, slowly.

"Bad, bad business all of this is. How I got mixed up in all of it, I know well. Foolish thing I did when I was younger. Wish I could get out of it, but we are sworn to secrecy till death takes us. You should know."

He stops pacing when he reaches his desk and pours himself a glass of water. He shakes his head.

"I've been drinking almost a gallon a day. Spend most of my time in the loo. It's a tricky business, worse than when I still had the diabetes running amok. But, I am sure my brother would be proud. His encouragement is priceless."

William nods casually, but his face was tensed up more than before. Clearly this information was irrelevant to him and he could care less about Jones' visits to the privy and his health issues, not that he meant him ill health. But there were more pressing concerns that needed tending to.

"Mr Jones, please, what news have you got for me?" His voice shrieked of desperation.

Bob Jones removes an inhaler from his pocket and takes a few puffs. His wheezing seems to lessen and his breathing becomes softer almost immediately. He sits down, elbows flat on the desk as he faces William.

William swallows hard and sits forward in his chair as well. His eyes were fixed on Jones'. Bob Jones' eyes sparkled with a youthful playfulness that complimented Jones' demeanour. Despite the fact that Jones was almost twice his age, he carried himself well. He admired this about Jones.

"Listen, William, I hate to break it to you, and I don't mean to add insult to injury, but a little bird told me that it is a foregone conclusion that Maria is definitely one of the subjects."

Bob seems to cringe as he says that. "May God forgive us. They really are mere children."

William puts his hand to his mouth in disbelief.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you asked for it." Bob fills William's glass with water and hands it to him.

Some water spills on the desk as William grasps the glass. He was shaking uncontrollably.

'So... sorry," he says. He puts the glass down and was about to wipe the spill off with his handkerchief, when Jones stops him and wipes it with a napkin that was resting on his lunchbox.

"You've got to get a grip on yourself, Parsons. Now is not the time to lose your cool." Bob takes out his inhaler and takes a few puffs.

William gets out of his chair and starts pacing about in Bob's office. He was beside himself.

Bob wondered if he had done the right thing by telling him, but what would be worse. Keeping the truth from him was like slow torture. Now that the cat was out of the bag, at least he could rest easier.

He gets out of his chair and slowly makes his way to William.

Bob puts his hand on his shoulder and squeezes it softly.

"I'm sorry, Parsons. I really am. I wouldn't wish it on any of my children."

He embraces William and holds him like that for a while.

William was hesitant at first, but he gripped him tightly. He started sobbing softly.

"There, there. Let it out. No shame in it. Let it out." Bob gently caresses his head.

Bob was at least two feet shorter than William, so it looked real awkward with William crying on his shoulder. But even so, Bob towered with strength for the both of them.

He himself wanted to cry.

Bob always knew that there is something... off... about these... jobs... that he had to do. He never questioned anyone, but he couldn't help but feel that he had gotten himself involved with something that was morally, ethically, wrong.

As William continued to sob uncontrollably, Bob focussed on the framed picture against the wall. It was one of his favorite things in the world. He framed it especially. The frame was made of natural Buckeye burl. He loved the exotic, creamy, yellowish sapwood mixed with the blueish-gray heartwood. The frame was light. It was the perfect companion for the heartfelt story it contained.

Bob's playful, dark brown eyes start to glisten as he tries to look away.

The picture was nothing great. Two stick men sitting under a tree on a blanket. Picnic basket filled with Yipes! Stripes! peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches. One of the stick men had a very large tummy and big red cheeks. His shirt had very big flower prints on it. Next to him was a small little girl, dressed in a pale blue dress. She was clutching a few playing cards in her hand. She had a naughty smile on her face. The man with the big tummy looked as if he was thinking deeply.

She captured him perfectly. If she wanted, she could have beaten him that day, but she let him win. He loved that about her, her ability to make others feel good about themselves. She was far more mature than he ever was at her age and could even hope to be at any age. She warmed his heart. His favorite person in the whole wide world she was, that, after his sweet sweet Sarah of course.

Bob pondered this thought. Perhaps it was not true.

No, it wasn't.

She was his favorite thing. He cherished her.

That is what hit him so hard at that very moment as he held William tighter.

He failed her.

That was the sad truth. She and Maria were both part of this immoral programme.

Yes, he failed her.

If these walls could talk, they would shout at the top of their lungs to be heard by anyone who had ears to hear. Bring to light all the sinister files that landed on his desk. Most of the lines blacked out.

Classified.

He had little to no clearance or authority.

He was just the handler.

He takes a deep breath in and composes himself. He must stay strong, for him and for William, but most especially for sweet Sarah and primarily for her.

If there was a chance, he would surely try to free her.

But how?

He shakes it off and slowly starts to pull away from William, who started sobbing less. He was no longer crying, but made soft whimpers.

"Better, Parsons," Bob asks sincerely. He hoped that his shaky voice didn't give him away. He didn't want to let William in on the fact that he was scared and afraid. William looked up to him for guidance. If he should sense any weakness on Bob's part, he would surely give up.

That would be devastating for everyone involved.

Bob had to be strong.

He takes a few steps back and gestures for William to wash up in the en suite office restroom. He stares at William as he manages to remain confidently upright as he makes his way to the basin. You would never say that his broad shoulders carried heavy burdens. William hid his emotions well. He was level headed; in spite of his breakdown just now. It was his daughter after all, his only child.

Bob sinks deep into his chair.

The burden was heavy on both of them.

He opens the file on his desk and tries to learn more.
The Leader

#LifeIsWorthLiving

The very first thing you noticed about her room at the fair, was the smell. It had a very strong scent of wood burning; heavy, smoky and aromatic. These hit you before you stepped in. It drew you in. It was pleasant and warm. Inviting many would say. Inside the room there were other notes that lifted you. A sense of calm and peace. Tranquil.

Homey.

You definitely felt at home as soon as you entered the space.

The room was large. Many heavy drapes covered all the walls, mostly antique silk velvet, colors, predominantly forest green, caramel, teal and plum. It gave the impression of a medieval space, more so because of the stone used for the building. Wood lined the ceiling and several shelves hung along the wall. In the middle of the room stood a crescent moon shaped table, the wood heavy, old red cedar. It was partially covered by a black silk cloth on top of which was a round quartz crystal ball. It vibrated clear white light with a light rainbow aura. Two willow wood swingasan chairs hung on either side of the table from a beam a few feet directly above it. The one along the outer curve of the table had an intricate dream-catcher motif with small round rose quartz at each point of the octagonal shape. The one on the inner curve had a rather big beaded medallion at the back. Both chairs had soft throw pillows on top.

There wasn't much else in the room except for a black leather bound box, wrapped in white satin cloth with a big bow, on the table next to the crystal ball and a framed drawing against the back wall. Many candles in rustic candle holders, covered with miniature pine cone decorations, stood along the shelves. She was busy lighting the one below the framed drawing.

As she blew out the match, she paused and stared thoughtfully at the drawing for a second. Her face seemed peaceful as she took it in. It was a pencil drawing of a very peculiar cat. It had round ears and a very round face. The body was long and lean. It had bushy haired paws. The eyes were the oddest. One had many intricate lines that flowed mostly vertical, while the other had many circles in circles. The cat had an inquisitive expression and seemed almost alive and real. The curly tail almost seemed as though it was moving.

She sighs and smiles, then turns to face the door. She was dressed in an elegant grey empire line peasant dress. She wore ankle-tied, flat, rope-trim tassel, gladiator sandals. A floral wrapped amethyst crystal wand necklace was around her neck; the hue dark purple with blue and red tones. The floral was a single gladioli and lots of fern leaves. Her black hair was layered curls with a few Boho braids. From the candlelit room it had a purple blue tint.

She breathes in deep and walks toward the beaded door curtain.

She pulls it open and smiles warmly.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome. I sensed you approaching. My, your aura is warm and pulsing. I feel a good energy about you. Please, do come inside."

She gestures for the man to take a seat.

He was lean and tan skinned, African American. He was dressed in a plain, black V-neck t-shirt and faded jeans. He was wearing comfy designer sneakers. A large V was on his letterman. He had his hoodie up.

"Word," he says nervously as he walks past her.

She reads him as he slowly walks towards the table while staring at the drawing at the back of the room. His shoulders were slumped in and he had his hands in his pockets. With a sigh she closes the beaded curtain, walks past him and gestures for him to sit down.

He stares at the hanging chair.

"I hope, you know, you ain't gonna try and put me to sleep and what not, you know. I ain't come here for that trippy hoopla."

Slowly he gets on the chair and tries to stop it from swinging about.

She sits as well.

"The chair is here to help you to relax, to be more open and free. Suspended from the ground you are unbound from being dragged down. This will aid you in releasing the bonds holding you back. The chair radiates love towards you. This is a safe space."

He stares at her, and then directs his head to the drawing at the back.

"I feel about as warm and fuzzy as that kooky cat against the wall."

She smiles.

"He does take getting used to. His name is Jack."

"I, you know, got a cat too, you know. His name be Tiger. My best friend he is. You better know that. Would have brought him, you know, but thought rather to come alone. I ain't to sure why I came here."

"You came seeking the truth."

He stares at her curiously. The sharp twist in his brow relaxes.

"A'ight."

She crosses her legs in her chair and sits up straight.

"Well, Omar, as I said over the phone, my name is Michelle and I am at your service."

She smiles warmly and focuses her gaze on his.

"Tell me a little bit about yourself. It will help you to relax."

He fidgets in the chair and seems annoyed that it wants to sway back and forth.

"I ain't here to be tellin' you nuthin, you know. You, you know, 'posed to be tellin' me sh... stuff."

He takes the throw cushion from underneath him.

"I'll take that." She reaches for it.

He relinquishes it with a sigh of relief.

"This chair be buggin'."

Michelle smiles warmly and continues to focus on him.

"Omar, on the phone, you sounded agitated, almost frantic. I observe that now, in your body, your eyes and even your aura."

She takes in his entire frame, focussing on her peripheral vision.

Omar stops fidgeting with the chair, puts his feet flat on the floor and tries to stop the chair from swaying in this manner. He crosses his arms across his chest.

"You know, I don't really believe, you know, in all this stuff. If you aksk me you all be trippin'. And I don't mean to be cappin' on you, but it don' seem right, a'ight."

"Then why did you come, Omar?" Asks Michelle calmly. She smiles warmly. She lets her chair sway gently side to side.

Omar tenses up. He removes his hoodie and starts twisting the string. His hair was short and light in color, it almost matched his skin.

"You know, I have an uncle, you know. He always be gawkin' and talkin' to things, you know, that ain't there, you know. He definitely trippin' on sumtin, you know." He shakes his head. His shoulders slumps in more. Unconsciously he puts his feet on the chair and hugs his legs. He too starts swaying his chair side to side.

"I don't know, you know. We all always say he's 5150, you know."

He sways his chair more. Michelle listens intently and her chair sways too. They're chairs were almost in sync.

"Lately, you know, I've been wundrin', if, you know, perhaps, I was 5150 too, you know. Maybe it runs in the family, you know." He avoids eye contact as he says that. He lets go of the string and puts his hoodie up.

Michelle observes him for a second, her eyes focused on his.

Softly she says. "You have been seeing things." She said that as a matter of fact, as if she knew.

He is hesitant, but nods slowly.

"Chyea."

They both sit quietly for a while.

Michelle then sits up straight, relaxes her shoulders, arms to her side, hands in her lap; she focuses on Omar.

"Is there anything you would like to tell me before we continue?" She smiles warmly.

Omar focusses on her gaze.

"Well, I'll be straight-up with you, you know. Hope you ain't gonna be, you know, all up in my grill about it, but I used to get baked, you know."

He makes eye contact and holds her gaze.

"But I haven't been gardnin' for a minute."

Michelle smiles and nods in understanding.

"I appreciate your honesty." She winks.

He slumps in and sways his chair more.

"There are many that believe that certain plants and herbs allow us to tune in to the spirit world; the effects of which aids in the medium becoming a conduit for interdimensional beings. Our spirit guides."

Omar stares at her and shakes his head.

"That's bugged!"

He crosses his arms across his legs. The chair sways more.

"I however feel that one does not need those things to tune in. It is simply a matter of leaving the body, to let the spirit in, or, subduing the ego, allowing clear hearing."

"I hope, you know, you ain't gonna let me be some vessel for some kooky spook. I ain't cool wit dat, a'ight."

Michelle laughs.

"Of course not. No. What I mean to say is that I am a channeler."

Omar stares at her uncomfortably.

"No need to be alarmed though. We are not going to be doing anything that you are not comfortable with. For now, I will give you a few impressions and perhaps, if you are open to it, I will do a tarot reading." She gestures to the black leather bound box wrapped in the white satin cloth on the table.

After a brief silence, Omar nods. 'A'ight. I'm cool wit dat."

Michelle smiles warmly. "Good." She sits up straight in her chair and takes a deep breathe in. She closes her eyes and exhales slowly. She opens her eyes and says.

"Let us begin, shall we."

She gestures with her hand. Rhythmically she moves it from side to side.

"Breathe in deeply through your nose and exhale slowly through your mouth."

Omar sits up straight and does as she says.

"Forget about everything else and bring yourself to this moment. This, here and now, is all that matters. The past has shaped who you are, the future is as certain as tomorrow, only now holds the key to what might blossom. Take hold of it. Be secure in it and continue to breathe."

Their chairs sway in sync as they both focus on their breathing.

"I want you to focus on why you are here and only that. Forget about everything else. Remember, this is a safe space. The chair you are in radiates love towards you, I radiate love towards you, you are my guest and I welcome all of who you are and all that you bring along with you. Breathe in and relax."

Slowly she opens her eyes again. Omar does the same.

He lets his hoodie down and relaxes his shoulders.

A shy smile comes to his face, but it disappears quickly and is replaced by the tense twitching of his jaw.

Michelle smiles and focuses on his face. His charming, topaz golden brown eyes seems more illuminated than before, his caramel skin damp with perspiration and the sharp twist in his thick, dark brow was relaxed. Despite his tensed jaw, he does seem more open.

"Just relax. We will not be doing anything that you are not comfortable with. This is your time and I am at your service."

Omar nods his head.

"Well, let us embark upon this moment. Treasure it, savor it. I am blessed to be here to help you and to be your companion. I will do my best to answer the question yearning in your heart."

Michelle fixes her gaze on Omar. He holds it for a moment. Her fine china blue eyes draw him in. The pupils stood out against the pale blue irises. It seemed as if the pupils saw into his very being. Omar felt strangely comforted, but at the same time uncomfortably open. He gives her a shy smile, and then looks down.

Michelle begins.

"When you called me a week ago, I asked you only your name and date of birth." Her warm, smoky voice was pleasant to listen to. He liked the huskiness that only seemed to be present when she formed certain sounds or breathed in.

He listens as she continues.

"A beautiful name you have, with Semitic roots. One of the most revered Muslims had that name. I sense however that you are not Muslim, perhaps your ancestors were, but your ties to Islam remains only in name."

"My grandfather..."

"For now, just listen to my impressions," Michelle interrupts him with a gentle smile.

"Your name means eloquent and gifted speaker. If we embellish it more we find it also embodies a life long-lived, one that flourished. From its origins it even heralds as the first born son."

Omar listens and nods now and then.

His face was hard to read. His forehead had three creases that for the moment were relaxed. The freckles on his high cheek bones gave his face an appealing allure. He casually scratches the ridge of his straight nose, the large nostril walls flaring in sync with the twitching in his hard jaw. He almost seemed slightly amused, like he wanted to laugh, especially as she said eloquent speaker. She could not be sure.

Michelle however continues.

"Some say it derives from the Greek name Homer. Curious." She pauses and focuses her eyes more on Omar, "Just as Omar the Muslim was revered, so too was the Greek author Homer, perhaps for different reasons, but famous at least. Very interestingly that Homer wrote about the Trojan War." She pauses and gives this some thought. "You, yourself, Omar, are at war. I see it in your aura. You too harbour a Trojan horse that much is sure."

Omar gives a soft laugh and shakes his head.

Michelle smiles coyly.

"Those are all the initial impressions I got and read about your name." She ponders a bit then continues. "There is much to a name you know. It is not just given because we like it or because we are drawn to it or because we like what it means. No. Names are inspired in us. Names are given, names are destined."

She shifts in her chair and moves more to the edge.

Omar sits up too. He exhales lightly.

"You, you know, make it sound as if someone or sumtin' knew our names before our parents did."

He shifts in his chair; his feet still on the edge, but his hands were relaxed in his lap.

Michelle smiles, "That is what I am saying, Omar."

"Like, you know, God?" Omar asks.

"If you believe in God, then you could say it was destined by Him, yes. It might even be our guides, spurring us along on our journey. They having transcended to the other dimension, looking down upon us."

Omar's face tenses up.

"Do you, you know, believe that God exists?" He sits up and eyes her curiously.

Michelle sits back and gives his question some thought.

After a short silence, she says.

"I believe in the Source, something from which everything else springs forth. Without the Source, none of what I do would be. That much is certain. If, however, your question enquires whether I believe in the God of the Scriptures, then no. I do not believe the Source to be so rigid, unyielding. But enough about me, this is about you."

Michelle runs her left fingers along her necklace and grasps the amethyst crystal wand between her thumb and index fingers.

She exhales lightly.

Omar sits back and listens.

"Our name is not the only thing that plays a role in who we are to become. The day we are born is more telling, the alignment of the heavens pivotal." She seems excited as she says this.

Omar seems more curious than before.

Michelle sits forward and picks up the black leather bound box on the table.

"Do you, you know, see the future in that ball?"

Michelle smiles coyly, "I choose not to see what might be, I might not like what I see and waste away trying to undo what cannot be undone." She gives the crystal ball a gentle rub.

"The ball is just here to cleanse the room, to vibrate positive energy."

"Cleanse the room of what?" Asks Omar suspiciously.

"Don't trouble your mind with unnecessary thoughts. Focus on why you are here."

Michelle undoes the white satin ribbon and removes the cloth from the black leather bound box. Slowly she undoes the clasp and opens the lid. She takes out a deck of very big, black, golden thread tarot cards.

Omar observes that she very carefully picks up the cards as if doing it with respect. She strokes out the creases on the black cloth on the table and places the cards gently on top of it. She says a few words under her breath with her eyes closed. Slowly she opens them again and focuses on Omar.

"Are you ready," she asks enthusiastically.

Omar wasn't sure what to expect, but he was curious none the less. He puts his feet flat on the floor and sits foreword on his chair, "Chyea." He manages a sincere smile, his dimples deep. Michelle smiles too, her eyes taking in his curiosity.

"Like I told you before, you gave me your date of birth when we first spoke on the phone. From this I was able to calculate your soul and birth number. As it turns out, your numbers are the same for both. Lucky number five." Michelle observes what impact this information has on Omar.

His charming golden eyes immediately sparkles with appreciation as if he just got informed that he had hit the jackpot. It danced with a confident beat and a rhythmic tempo. Michelle felt a tangible connection to the movement, but as soon as Omar speaks, the pattern distorts and waves of the acknowledgement subside in a slow encroachment of the light as the echo of the joy subsides.

"Word, you hear, five is like seriously tight. My lucky number for sure." Omar puts his right hand to his heart, touching the V on his letterman.

Michelle smiles and continues.

She slowly removes the top card of the deck, turns it and lays it flat on the black cloth, face up, facing Omar.

Omar stares at it in wonder. "Hierophant?" He says questioningly, "What does that mean?"

"It simply acknowledges what I already perceived from you, that you are meant for great things."

She sits up straight, clasping her hands together and holding it against her chest, touching the tips of her fingers to her chin.

"You really trippin'. Why you, you know, on about this that I am meant for great things, you know? Man, I barely even got myself, you know, a life outside of St Jude's. That was, you know, the only place that gave me even an ounce of dignity, you know. I am grateful and all, you know, but an orphan like me, you know, can't amount to much, you hear?"

Michelle shakes her head and smiles more with her eyes.

"The heavens never lie. Each star finds itself exactly on the path it is meant to be on and each one at exactly the place it was supposed to be at at the time of your birth. The Source is exact, never too much and never too little. Those with eyes to see can read the messages it shares with us in the night sky. It is all a beautiful story and your role in this play has been mapped out and you must own your part. You were born for it. Embrace it."

Omar says nothing as she pauses. He was curious, that much was obvious.

"The hierophant speaks of your commanding nature. You are a born leader. You are here to inspire others, that much is yours. You have a message, something important; your words are your weapons on this quest that you are on. From the moment you walked in, your aura had a brilliant radiance, I sense it has to do with your spiritual eminence, your bull charging with unwavering confidence." She nods her head.

'You're words are tight, Miss, you know." He puts his hand to his chest and gives a light nod with his head. "I don't know though, you know, I do put it down sometimes, you dig, mostly free stylin' with my crew, my homies, a'ight.

I used to, you know, spit rhymes about the wrongs against my people, you hear, and I mean no offence to you, you know, but I ain't gonna win no Grammy, not in this lifetime, you dig. I doubt I can inspire even a few people, if any, definitely not many. I best stick to writin' in my crib, you hear, comfortably in my jammies, entertainin' Tiger, you know, he be like my biggest fan, a'ight." He sits back as his chair sways more side to side.

Michelle takes in his calm, assured demeanor. He was not going to be convinced otherwise.

"That is at the core of the hierophant; your conviction in what you believe. Your sacred message cannot be bargained with, cannot be altered. You are here to pass it on, to many, to few, perhaps only two. Perhaps they will take it further, who knows, only the Source. Your message is not merely meant for your cat."

She returns the hierophant card to the deck.

Omar doesn't say anything. He respects her assessment. She was right about him having a message. That he agrees with. As an orphan, he has many things he wants to say. The world was once big and scary, when he was all alone, that was when he was younger, but since St Jude's he's found a home, some purpose. He wants people to know that there are some good people, not just a few, but many, who do care about the well-being of others. Even if things might seem hopeless, with people like those at St Jude's, they can find some happiness. That is the message in his heart. If he ever had a chance to have the ear of many that is what he would want them to hear. He smiles; shyly. This lady does seem to have some gift. He relaxes and waits for what was next.

Michelle picks up the cards ceremoniously. She mutters some words under her breath and clasps the cards in both her hands. She looks at Omar and says.

"You know, Omar, I have a good feeling about you. I am going to do something different today." She winks at him. She returns the cards to the box carefully, closes the clasp and wraps it in the satin cloth, rounding it off with a tie of the ribbon. She gets off her chair and takes the wrapped box with her to the shelf against the wall. She removes a panel beneath the portrait of the cat and places the box inside. She then takes out a rectangular wooden box and returns with it to the curved table.

She places the box onto the black cloth. The top cover had strange markings on it. Omar wasn't sure what it was. She removes the top of the box; sliding it out along the grooves on the inside of the sides, revealing a deck of very old tarot cards. They were not as shiny and stylish as the black ones she had before.

"This is my very first deck. I received them as a gift from a very special gypsy I met, when I was travelling. She is a dear, kind spirit. Our encounter has an impact on me till this day.

I sense her energy now, it feels right." She takes the cards out of the box carefully. She kisses them gently and respectfully places it on the black cloth.

She smiles at Omar.

"Cut the cards." She gestures to Omar. "But wait. First clear your mind. Focus on why you are here. Try and visualize it in your mind. Form a clear question. Remember, Omar, you are safe, you are loved. The chair radiates love towards you, I radiate love towards you. The Source is love and radiates love towards you. Don't be afraid; don't feel the need to hide. Open yourself to this moment. Remember to breath." She smiles, breathes in and breathes out and gestures rhythmically with her right hand for Omar to do the same.

"Whenever you are ready," she gestures to the cards.

Omar sits up straight, putting his feet firmly on the floor again, the chair stops swaying. He removes his hoodie. He breathes in deep and as he breathes out, he cuts the cards in half.

"Good. Now cut both those too." Michelle was just excited as Omar was.

Omar does as she says.

"Now, place the stacks on the left and right edge on the ones in the middle and then stack those two on top of each other."

Omar carefully moves the cards and piles them all back on top of each other.

"Now take three cards from the top and place them face up towards me. Remember, it is important that you focus on your question and open yourself up. That is key to this reading."

Omar, hesitates, focuses and removes the first card. He places it face up facing Michelle; the Knight of Cups. They both stare at it intrigued. He removes the second and places it next to the knight; the Ten of Cups. Michelle winks; pleased. Omar breathes in and out before removing the last card and placing it face up next to the others; Two of Cups. Michelle smiles enthusiastically as she takes the rest of the deck and moves it out of the way to the side of the quartz crystal.

"Fascinating, but not surprising." Michelle takes a Boho braid between her right thumb and index fingers and scans the cards before looking at Omar.

"So many positive feelings, pure; it keeps pouring from your generous cup, never emptying. Its source flows like rivers from your kind heart. I feel privileged to be the one to tell you this. Your creative energy is clear. It is green as these fields. There is a bright future ahead for you. You will be secure, have security, will need for nothing and you will have comforts for both your eyes and your heart. Wow." Michelle pauses and sits back.

"I sense you have a greater purpose," she nods her head, "please, tell me, what is your question?" Michelle waits eagerly to hear what he has to say.

Omar coughs embarrassed.

"Believe it or not, you know, I wanted to aksk you, you know, what my purpose is in this life. You know, what it is I am supposed to do." He sighs softly.

"I am most certainly pleased," says Michelle.

"The answers are all here." She points to the cards, brings his attention to the Knight of Cups.

"You most certainly have a message, something you really want to share. It might even be some sort of invitation to some greater cause. You are secure in what that message is and you are well on your way to deliver it. You must trust your heart. You are very intuitive, very intelligent, most cat people are. I knew that when you mentioned your cat Tiger. The way you speak of your cat, I also sensed a lot of love for him. You are a romantic and you are all about grand romantic gestures. You have a vivid imagination and this is going to aid you with your quest. You are a charmer and can sway others, that is the power and drive of your charisma. People of all genders will be hanging on your every word when you speak. You have inner peace and a calmness that is at your core. I sense something has disturbed that, but I think it is because you somehow are a bit reluctant to act."

Omar doesn't say anything. He was very intrigued and enamoured by what Michelle was saying. Her voice was gentle and soothing. That made it even more enjoyable and interesting.

She points to the Ten of Cups and continues.

"I said it before, you will have all you need, almost like a happily ever after, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The time of sorrow is at an end. There are blessings from up above that are being poured upon you, and tying with the first card, the universe is telling you to share these blessings with others. You have a bright, fertile future ahead of you, loving partner and loving children. This is evident. You must follow your heart, when the time is right, whether it is rational or not. Only you will know; you have all you need. Trust yourself, but you must act. Share what you have, your cup is running over with blessings."

Omar laughs.

"You really be trippin' now. I ain't even got a shawty, you know, how am I even gonna manage to have a kid, you for real."

"Ah, but it is all here, Omar dear. Look, the last card, the Two of Cups. Two will become one; that is your destiny. You will share this path with another, being the kind heart you have, there will be honor, devotion, peace and mutual respect. Not only will you have an abundance of love flowing from the Source for the both of you, but you will have a fiery, passionate union.

It is obvious that you will be able to negotiate and trade when the time is right, this ties with your other cards; the message you have in your heart. Perhaps when pursuing this relationship. You are sure to have it all. The Source is governing this all, it is sending you positive energy, the blessings I said, you are also protected, the security and balance I mentioned." She sits back and takes in Omar's expression. He had an adorable smile on his face. This made her smile too.

"I said it before, you are plain trippin'. All of this is bugged, a'ight. You and your kooky cat over there, you know, have been drinkin' too much from that cup filled with that loopy Kool-Aid." He laughs, but it was more as if he was flattered.

"Omar, the universe is telling you that now is the time, you have all you need. Your cup is overflowing and it will never run dry. You must act and share it. If you do not, you will regret it. You might become agitated and moody. You know I am right. You know that the cards are telling you the truth. I almost want to say, that I sense a sense of obligation on your part from the Source. It is telling you to share whatever your message is."

Omar sighs.

"Do you think, you know, that has got sumtin' to do with the things I have been seein'? Am I not 5150?"

"It might very well be. You are in some sort of official capacity or occupation. The knight implies a soldier or warrior of sorts. That implies an enemy don't you agree?"

Michelle looks to find some form of acknowledgment from his bright, golden eyes.

"I suppose, you know." He fidgets in the chair and puts his hoodie up.

Michelle relaxes and plays with her amethyst crystal.

"I would like to see you again, if you would be so kind. I would like to try and reach your guide. Perhaps they can share more light, to guide you on your way. It would be such an honor for me to do that for you. What do you say?" She looks at Omar imploringly.

He gives her words some thought.

"I am open to that. Should I come here again, you know?"

Michelle sits up excitedly.

"No, this will have to happen at my house. I haven't practiced from home in a long time, but I feel that is the most secure environment for this journey. Oh, my goodness, I am so excited."

"Let me give you my address, we must meet a week from now." She gets up and gets a pen and paper. Omar stares at her in wonder. What was in store for him?

Blondie

#Maria

William enters the house.

As he steps into the foyer he takes off his split toe penny loafers and puts them on a shoe rack to the right in the foyer.

He steps into the lounge and looks around.

The house was quiet. A gentle breeze played with the light, net curtain hanging by the patio slide door. It was slightly ajar. He walks past the L shaped furniture; it was dark brown ebony leather cushion tops, back and throw pillows, with ivory cream seats, head rests and recliners. Soft woollen quilts were draped over each of the eight shaped sofa edges. A soft, thick, fluffy cream shag rug covered the center of the cedar wood floor. Rustic metal art pieces were hanging from the soft, light brown walls. The electric wall lights shaped like old oil lamps were on. The room was cosy and warm.

William steps out onto the patio.

Maria was lying on the sleigh sofa at the end of the deck reading a book.

He stares at her for a while. She was dressed in a light spaghetti top and loose casual pants. She was holding onto the single charm on the chain around her neck. Her face was relaxed as she was engrossed in her reading. He looks at the title of the book and smiles. She was cramming a recipe again. She was studying to be a pastry chef. That and ballet were her passions. The ballet was more for fun, an obsession really, and the pastry something to fall back on if things didn't work out.

As he stares at her, he remembers his conversation with Bob Jones. He shudders. The thought brings stinging tears to his eyes. He grasps the door handle and composes himself. He can't lose his cool. Not in front of Michelle and certainly not his daughter. He takes a deep breathe in and exhales. He makes his way towards her.

"Alright there, sweet pea?" He gently kisses her on the top of her head.

Maria looks up and smiles.

"Alright there, Mr Parsons?" She giggles. She closes the book and lays it onto the sofa next to her.

"Busy day, Dad? You look down." She sits up on the sofa with her feet up and puts her arms around her legs, resting her head on her knees. Her honey blonde hair was tied in a bun at the back.

William forces a smile. He forgot that Maria was very perceptive. She could see his baggage dangling from his sides even if it was covered by an invisibility cloak. Right now he wishes he could disappear, rather than tell his daughter a lie. He promised himself that he would never lie to her. That was one of his rules and to this very day, he managed not to fib. Not even when her pet bird died. He told her straight that the poor thing died and he didn't even flinch. He felt wry awful of course, but it was the truth. She handled it well, said that even birds must return to the Lord. She had faith. Where she got it from, he had no clue; definitely not from him and certainly not from Michelle. Guess a little faith right about now, would do them all good.

He clears his throat.

"I am a bit baffled, got some rather peculiar news at work today. You know, just more secret stuff that I can't repeat."

Maria looks into his eyes. Her smoky-blue, grey yes matched his, only difference was that they popped more against her milky white cheeks.

"It must be something really bad that gave you those puffy bags and dark circles around your tired eyes, but I won't pry, just glad you're home and you're safe. I worry about you dad."

William rubs his eyes. He was amazed that Maria could pick up all of this. She knew him well. He couldn't help but love her for it. She really paid attention in spite of always seeming distracted by her books and her phone.

"Mom is in her studio getting ready to see a client. First time that she is bringing someone here, must be someone special. She asked not to be disturbed until he arrives."

William gazes in the direction of the studio situated at the back, past the pond and grass patch.

"Curious, sweet pea, she hasn't had a client home in forever. This is news."

Maria nods in agreement.

She gazes in the direction of the studio too.

"Guess what else is news?" She sounded suddenly excited.

William sits down next to her and ponders a bit.

"Tell me?" He opts not to guess.

Maria wasn't one to force things, so she started excitedly.

"I've been selected to do a pastry showcase. If my reviews are good, I might be selected to feature at the Calgary Pastry Chef Showcase in Alberta, Canada.

Only the most prestigious pastry chefs are selected to attend. And, it is all in aid of charity. You know that is dear to my heart."

Maria sounded enthusiastic and sincere.

William kisses her on her forehead.

"I'm sure you'll do great, sweet pea. No doubt about it."

Maria puts her arm in his and kisses him on the cheek.

"Thanks, Dad."

She turns and eyes the bags under his eyes.

She gently touches them with her right index finger.

"I should put a mask on your face later. It will reduce the swelling and draw the tiredness from your eyes. It has a soothing, cooling effect."

William smiles and kisses her head again. "I'm sure I am in capable hands."

He picks up her book.

"What were you thinking of presenting at the showcase? Are you going to be a boulanger, confiseur, décorateur or glacier?

William rings in the French with his crisp British and smiles at his daughter's appreciative smile.

"You remembered," she gushes proudly as she opens the recipe book to share her ideas with her dad.

The gentle breeze brought with it the aroma of wood incense burning.

Something was definitely about to go down in the private studio.

The Channeler

#BeenYou

"So, all you need to do is to relax. Hopefully someone will come through. I mean, I hope your guide will come through. Perhaps you'll get the answers you so desperately seek."

Michelle was dressed in a plain, white peasant dress and she was wearing amethyst barefoot sandals, it matched the amethyst wand necklace. Her hair was in layers of Boho braids. Her skin was glowing, though she was wearing no makeup. Her fine china blue eyes focus on his. She seems more excited than him.

Omar was a bit tense. He didn't like this, but he needs answers. If she can give them to him, then he should at least give it a try. He wishes Tiger was here. It would have made it easier, perhaps not. Who knows what was going to happen today. He sighs and gets comfortable on the very big sofa.

"Are you ready," asks Michelle as she takes a seat in a lotus position opposite him. He admires her a bit. He thought she was beautiful the first time he saw her, but today she was more radiant. She had really beautiful skin and she sure was agile. He can barely cross his legs like that, let alone let his foot rest on his thigh. He sits back and tries to focus.

"Let's begin, shall we. Just relax. Remember, this is a safe space. I have done this many times before. You need not worry. Don't be startled if my voice changes or if I start to behave uncharacteristically, that is just the guide using my voice, using my body. I hope you'll get the answers you seek. I am truly humbled to have this rare moment, this special chance. You are my guest and I am at your service."

He makes eye contact and smiles. He liked her husky voice. She really makes him feel calm and at ease. He relaxes and nods that he is ready.

"Here we go." She closes her eyes and breathes deeply. She holds the breath for a few seconds, and then breathes out. She repeats that a few times. After every breath, her shoulders seem to slouch more and more, until eventually, her head was hanging into her lap. Her beautiful layered braids hid her face. Omar sits in silence and waits anxiously. He wasn't sure what to expect. He wasn't sure how long she was in that state, but it felt like a while. He didn't know whether he should say anything or just remain still. He shifts awkwardly on the comfortable couch. Just as he was about to speak, she stirs.

He stops fidgeting and focuses on her.

"Always so nervous, aren't we, Omar," she says. Only her voice was cold. It was devoid of the comforting warmth he had come to appreciate. This made him very edgy.

She starts to move. Her head lifts slowly up and her hair falls back. When she is fully back in her lotus position, she slowly opens her eyes. He stares into them. He doesn't blink. Those fine china blue eyes were gone. These eyes were dark. Like the pupils were fully dilated. It unnerves him.

"What, cat... got your... tongue?" She twists her head to the side and watches him. Then she glances about the room, as if she was seeing it for the first time. With a smile, she turns and faces him again. Slowly she puts her feet on the floor and shifts forward on the couch. She breathes deeply and says.

"You look just like that beaten down grandfather of yours, the same clammy, dark skin, same light hair, same dazzling eyes."

"Did, you, you know, know my grandfather?" Omar wasn't sure what to make of all this. He still didn't believe. It sounded like her and looked like her, yet she sounded different and looked different. He was more unnerved than before.

She laughs softly at first, then louder.

"I knew him very well, you know. We were... good... old... pals, you know." She crosses her fingers.

Omar stares at her. He only ever heard of his grandfather and only the few stories he was told. He never met him. Only thing he knew was that he died in hospital, he hanged himself apparently.

Michelle gets up from the couch and walks about the room. Her movements were unsure and she seems to be seeing the room for the first time. She makes her way to the bookshelf and strokes the books with her left index finger. She keeps moving about the room. She stops at one of the incense sticks burning. She pinches it between her fingers. The smell of burnt skin fills the room. Her face tenses up. She turns and faces Omar. Her eyes seem darker than before.

"Your grandfather wasn't sick." She sneers. She turns, this time more confidently, as if she was getting used to moving. She made her way swiftly towards him. Omar shifts awkwardly back.

When she was right in front of him, she stops and slouches down.

"I drove him mad." She sneers more and laughs softly. "And I enjoyed every minute of it."

Omar swallows hard. "What do you mean?" He wanted to get off the couch, but for some reason he couldn't move.

She creeps closer.

"Oh, I think you know what I mean, you know." She winks creepily.

"No, you know, I don't."

She laughs.

"And, you be sure, I am going to do the same to you," her voice was deep and unapologetic, "and, if you should be... unfortunate... to father children, rest assured, I will drive them mad too, you know." She sneers, brings her face closer to his and stares straight into his eyes. "Your entire blood line is cursed, forever. I will make sure that you suffer and that you suffer well, you know." She stands back suddenly. Jerks. She falls backwards onto the sofa and grips tightly to the armrest with her right hand. "Be sure that I will not rest until all of your bloodline is wiped from the face of the earth!" She shouts rushed. She jerks more and falls suddenly limp onto the sofa.

Omar sits up and stares at her confused. He wanted to get out, but he couldn't get himself to move. Michelle stirs suddenly and raises her head. She looks at Omar confused. When she is up straight, she puts both her hands to her head. She massages her temples and mumbles a few things under her breath. She remains like that for a few seconds, and then focuses on Omar again.

"It's me," she explains breathlessly. She swallows hard. "Some water, please." She gestures to the glass jug standing on the table.

Omar quickly gets up and pours some water into a glass and hands it to her. He still seems a bit spooked. Michelle takes the glass from him and slowly drinks the water. She gestures for more. He gets the jug and pours her more water.

"Thanks," she says and gives him back the glass.

Omar sets the glass and jug back onto the table and moves awkwardly back to the couch, but doesn't sit down.

"What just happened, you know?!" Omar almost shouts.

Michelle sits up and breathes deeply. She finds Omar's eyes and tries to reassure him. "Sit down. It is over. There is nothing to worry about." She concentrates on his aura. It was pulsing red and there was a dark circle on the edge. He was not in a good place. She felt guilty.

"Please sit down. Drink some water. You will feel better." She gestures with her hand to the couch. Her voice was still a bit croaky. She clears her throat and breathes more deeply.

Omar sits down, but positions himself on the edge. As if he was readying himself to launch off in the direction of the door if anything should happen. "What the hell was that, you know? I thought you said, you know, that I was safe. That didn't seem so safe, you know, to me. That was really messed up, you know!" His voice shrills a bit. Sweat was running down the side of his temples into his neck.

Michelle composes herself and says.

"That has never happened before." She seems to be confused herself. "That was a malevolent entity. It was definitely not your guide. I can't be sure what it was though." She puts her hand to her throat and goes deep into thought.

"It sure seemed, you know, like it knew me, you know. Ranting on about my grandfather, you know, and how it was going to make sure my entire bloodline is wiped off the face of the earth, you know." Omar was beside himself. He gets off the couch and starts to pace around in the room.

"I didn't tell you before, you know, but I came to you because of what happened, you know." He puts his left fist into his mouth and bites down hard. He paces faster. "I saw this thing once while I was baked. It seemed to stare at me, you know, with this sinister smile on its face, you know. I knew then that it was not human and I knew too that I was not imaginin' it." He stares at Michelle. She was listening. He turns and goes to sit on the edge of the couch again.

"I don't know how, but, you know, that day, I felt utterly exposed." He stares at her, as if looking for assurance. "You know?" He puts his hoodie up.

"Now, that thing. It reminded me of that thing. The voice and the things it said, fits with that thing I saw, you know." He sits back and rolls his eyes.

Michelle clears her throat and says.

"I understand and I agree with you. I knew it was no good the moment I let him in. But he was too powerful for me to block him out. It was like nothing I have dealt with before." Michelle, for the first time since he met her, seems at a loss for words, almost helpless.

"I'm sorry. I feel like I failed you." She sighs.

"I, you know, don't agree. You didn't fail me, you know." He says sincerely. "If anythin', you know, you confirmed what I felt, you know. That sumtin' was after me. That is, you know, what brought me to you. I wasn't sure if I was goin' mad you know. So, no, you know, you didn't fail me." Omar sits up and removes his hoodie.

Michelle just stares at him. She gets up and walks to the table. She takes the round crystal ball in the center of the table in her right hand and focuses on it. "I don't understand," she says. "I cleansed the room, and yet that thing came through." She keeps staring into the crystal ball.

Omar wants to say something, but rather keeps quiet.

Michelle turns and faces him. "One thing is clear though. There is something about you, something that this thing wants. You are important. Just like I told you the first day we met."

They stare at each other in silence.

"I want to give you something, a gift. Something to protect you." She heads to the book shelf and opens a draw. She removes a pink round crystal.

"This is rose quartz. It can be used to clear rooms and it gives off positive energy. It radiates love if programmed and channelled properly. I will show you how to program it."

She gives the light, pink crystal to Omar.

"I know things will go well for you. I just know it. Remember what I told you, Omar. You must trust your heart. Trust your intuition. You have a purpose. You must however act. Now is the time. Do not let these malevolent things deter you from your destiny. Focus on positive energy. Love will always triumph hate. The light will always dispel the dark. The Source is love, the Source is with you."

Omar doesn't say anything. He just stares at her and listens.

"Our bodies are mere vessels for our souls, our connection to the Source. You decide whether that vessel is a mansion or whether it is a shack. The power is in your hands. Trust yourself. Believe. Let love be your guide."
The Doubter

#NoPressure

When are you gonna to stop callin' me?

"Omar, please, it really is urgent. I wouldn't bug you otherwise."

He hears a long sigh.

I'm sorry. But I can't. I don't want to be reminded of that stuff again.

"How do you know it is the same?"

Because I just do.

"What happened?"

He hides more when he sees a man approach.

"Fool." The man says.

Seemingly to himself.

Peter-John shakes his head.

Bad stuff. I really don't want to talk about it. I only wish to forget that and move on with my life.

"If you won't meet me, then at least tell me."

There is a short silence.

Peter-John looks around.

No one was near.

He relaxes more.

His face less tense.

The wrinkles barely visible.

That stuff messes with you. That's all. Stop gardnin' and stop with the flowers if you have been arrangin'.

"Omar, what happened?"

A short silence.

Then.

I saw stuff okay!

He shouts.

"What kind of stuff?"

Things! I'm not sure what they or it was.

"Where was this?"

Omar sighs.

Starts.

We, me and my date, went to the club, joint near the mall. She went in first. I went to... you know. She didn't know.

"Then what?"

Omar sighs again.

Soon as I entered the club, I saw them.

There is a short silence.

One... a grotesque lookin' one... was rubbin' up against my date. She was dancin' by herself, but it was there, behind her, rubbin' up against her. It was like he wanted her.

"What else?"

There were more of them, all over the place, all of them surroundin' the people. Doin' stuff to them, but the people were unaware of their presence.

He continues.

What really freaked me though, was the way they hounded the girls, like they wanted to do things to them, sexually I mean. That one rubbin' against my date, definitely wanted her.

"Unbelievable."

Yeah. That's what I said. It must have been those blue violets.

"So you believe it was a hallucination? Brought on by that?"

Had to be, there is no other explanation for it.

"You don't think it was anything other than that?"

No. It was that and perhaps months and years of doin' it. I messed up my head. I think I suffer from dementia, perhaps I'm a schizo.

"Mental?"

Yeah. That's why I'm warnin' you to stop. Your friend should too.

"Thank you for telling me, Omar. I really appreciate it."

Sure, but please, stop callin' me. I have said my final peace. I don't want to be reminded of that life or anyone a part of it.

"I understand."

Peace.

The line goes dead.

Peter-John hangs up the phone.

That must be what it is.

Disorder of the brain.

Sounds more realistic than to go and blame it on demons.

The devil.

He peeks from the booth.

Pulls his hoodie tight and walks away fast.

I must speak to Jeanne.
Believe

#NoSense

"Here's someone special I would like to introduce you to."

Jeanne gestures to the girl on her left.

Peter-John looks her up and down.

Short and stout.

Looks like she can take you down just like that.

He snaps a finger in his head.

"Pete... this is Maryam. Maryam, this is my... stalker," she gives him a coy smile "friend, Peter-John."

Peter-John shakes the girl's hand.

She doesn't look him in his eyes.

They all sit down.

Maryam whispers something to Jeanne.

Slowly Jeanne reaches with her hand and puts it on the girls hand and rubs it gently.

Shhh... shhhh... also seems to form from Jeanne's lips.

She looks at the girl sympathetically and then at Peter-John quick.

"We can't stay long, Pete." She rolls her eyes in Maryam's direction.

Frowns.

"Is something wrong?" Peter-John asks.

Jeanne puts her arms around Maryam and then looks at Peter-John.

"I brought you to meet Maryam, in order that you might... by some... small... minute chance... develop an inkling of faith."

Peter-John stares at Maryam.

Then back at Jeanne.

"I do have faith?"

Jeanne smirks.

"In what? Yourself?" She laughs more.

"Of course."

"Exactly why Maryam is here. Perhaps you'll have faith in something other than only yourself."

He removes his spectacles.

Rubs his eyes and temples.

Starts.

"You mean God?"

"Yes."

He gestures to Maryam.

"And how is she going to aid me to believe?"

Jeanne gives Maryam another encouraging side hug. Rubs her arms.

"Maryam has a gift."

"More like a curse," Maryam speaks for the first time, her voice was hoarse and raspy.

"And how is this gift going to help me?"

Jeanne shakes her head.

"She's going to try and help you... find the reason for your... edginess."

He swallows.

Pulls his hoodie tighter.

Focuses on the door to his right.

Exit sign on top.

He looks.

What was she on about?

"Maryam... please... help Pete out."

Maryam focuses on his face.

Rests her dark, brown eyes on his.

She swallows and shakes her head.

Did her eyes just turn red, right in front of me?

Or were they red from the start?

"Do you see that girl, to our left? Your right." She rolls her eyes in the direction of the blonde girl standing with the cue in her hand. She was blowing bubbles with her chewing gum; her free hand twirling through her hair.

Peter-John looks at the girl. Then back at Maryam.

"Yes."

Maryam clears her throat.

Closes her eyes.

"What else do you see, feel or hear. Be honest."

Peter-John wasn't sure what she meant.

He looks.

"Nothing. Don't like the intensity with which she is staring our way. It feels like... anger... I would even say... jealousy."

He looks back at Maryam.

"She is... Or more... it... is."

She swallows and looks at Jeanne.

"Can we leave, please?" She sounded desperate.

"Just a while longer, please, M." She takes Maryam's hand in hers.

Peter-John starts.

"What do you mean... it?"

Maryam gives the blonde girl a quick glance, then looks at Peter-John.

"It... him... the thing with her. It's in love...from the way I see it... it is... in love... with... you."

Peter-John looks back at the girl.

"That's why you feel this anger coming from it... It is jealous... jealous of us."

ن

It's dark outside.

A dark figure moves along the fence.

Makes its way to the front gate.

It tries to open it.

Soon as it touches the latch, it pulls away.

It tries again.

Pulls away.

It starts pacing along the fence.

It appears to be looking for another way in.

Giving up.

It returns to the gate.

Reaches.

Through the bars of the gate.

Through the window.

It grabs her around her neck.

Panicked, she struggles to free herself from the suffocating grip.

She moves around in her bed.

Struggles more.

Its' arm touches her pillow.

A loud scream echoes from the gate.

She was free.

Gets off her bed and stares out of the window.

It stood at the gate.

Stares at her too.

She mumbles something softly to herself.

The thing moves further into the darkness and disappears.

ن

"Thanks again for seeing me."

Peter-John takes a seat.

"Anything for Jeanne. And any friend of Jeanne's, is a friend of mine."

Peter-John smiles.

Clears his throat and starts.

"I'm sure you know why I am here."

She looks at him with a nod of her head.

"I have a clue."

She smiles.

Peter-John breaths deeply and smiles more.

He looks about the room.

It was bright and airy. Baby blue curtains with patterns on them floated lightly as the gentle breeze entered through the open terrace doors.

Peter-John gets more comfortable on the couch. Closes his eyes and remains like that for a while.

"Comfortable isn't it?" Maryam laughs to herself.

"Very. Where did you get it? Must have cost you a fortune. Judging by all these beautiful antiques and paintings, those ornaments, your family must be loaded."

Maryam laughs.

"My family does have money, yes. But all of these items are handmade. Those paintings, they're mine. I have a studio in the back. My two sisters do ornaments. The antiques, as you say, are made by my brothers."

Peter-John gets up and walks to the painting that covered the center of the wall in-front of him.

"You painted this?" He looks at the oil painting, admiring the fine work.

"That's one of my not too great moments. Did that when I was still a bit rebellious. You should have seen me. Had the spiked bracelet and choker to match my tight black outfits and punk hair style." She laughs softly as she remembers.

"Really? Can't imagine that. You look so..."

"Boring?" She laughs more.

Peter-John looks at her. Then to the lady sitting by the wall, drinking tea and apparently reading a book.

Maryam looks in her direction, then back at Peter-John.

"Just pretend like she is not here. She is part in reason what makes this meeting possible."

Maryam takes a sip of her water. Adjusts her scarf and waits.

Peter-John turns, takes one last glance at the painting from up close and takes his seat on the sofa."

"I wasn't going to say boring... Just hard to think that you sported the Goth look."

"Black nail polish and very dark make-up. I was ahead of the trends." She takes another sip of water.

"Drew that when mom told me to get ready for a meeting." She throws her fingers in the air as she says meeting.

"They wanted to marry me off, but I scared the family away when I showed up with... never mind." She looks in the direction of the lady reading the book.

"It wasn't my best moment, suffice it to say."

Peter-John gets more comfortable and again closes his eyes and breathes deeply.

His shoulders seem relaxed. The lines in his brow and forehead were gone.

He opens his eyes with a smile.

"The painting is beautiful. Is that from around here? The terrain looks familiar."

"Yes. Not too far off the road; near the lake. I go there sometimes, still, to just get out and be."

She gets up and offers him some treats.

"Try the ones with... yes..." She takes one too and places the plate back on the table.

"Mmmmmmm. It melts in your mouth... Reminds me of the carnival... it's on the tip of my tongue... mmmmmmm."

"I'm sure it's cotton candy. The word you're looking for."

She smiles and takes another bite of hers.

"Spot on! But much more... intricate and not as sweet, but still sweet."

"There's plenty. Please, don't be shy."

"I'll finish the lot. You don't know me. I have a sweet tooth." He takes more and takes a bite. The pieces crumble as he does; a few lands on his T-shirt and a few on the couch.

"Clumsy me. Making a mess. One would swear I was raised by a pack of wolves."

He picks the pieces up.

"Don't mind that. They crumble like that. It's because it's so delicate."

"Making a mess of this beautiful couch. Really is comfortable. Haven't felt so supported in a long while. Ours is a bit worn... or a bit much."

He smiles and takes another treat from the table.

"Mmmmmm. Um um um. What's this? Even more mouth-watering than the other."

"I'm glad you like them. I baked those. Baking and painting is what I do to..." She wonders off, stares past him out the window to the fence. Her eyes go red.

"It's what I do." She sighs and sits back.

"I don't know what's wrong with me." Peter-John smiles widely. "Since... can't quite explain." He frowns slightly as he tries to think. Suddenly the smile plays across his face again. He removes his specs and gives them a wipe with his shirt. Puts them back on.

With a slight laugh, he starts.

"Since I walked in here, I'm feeling... light... somehow unburdened."

He scratches his head embarrassed.

"You must think I'm ridiculous." He coughs.

"Not at all. I know exactly what you mean." She winks and takes a sip of water.

"I'll let you in on a secret. If you want."

She gets up and walks towards the terrace.

Peter-John gets up. Grabs another of the pastries and is short on her heels.

The lady sitting by the wall clears her throat and gives Maryam a look.

Maryam acknowledges her admonition, pulls her scarf tighter and gestures for Peter-John to walk out first.

She throws her hands into the air as if asking what?

She smiles and then joins Peter-John.

She points to the trees.

"That one there is a Pepper tree. We have one on each side of the house. It keeps away the flies."

"Those look like oranges. Are those orange trees?" Peter-John points to their immediate left.

"Yes. The oranges are quite sweet. What I want to show you though, are those."

"Lemon trees?"

"Yes. Probably the most useful trees we have here... for me that is. She stares past the fence. Her eyes go more red. She sighs again.

"Please, let's go back inside."

Peter-John looks at her slumped posture. It was like her whole body language changed in a matter of seconds. The smile also leaves her face.

He follows her back into the lounge. The lady acknowledges him and continues reading her book.

He gives a slight smile and sits down.

"Are you okay?" He asks concerned.

"Don't mind me. I'll be fine."

She seems more cheerful and her eyes less red.

"Why do you say the lemon tree is the most useful... to you? Is that the secret or does it have to do with the secret."

She smiles.

Her eyes seem to light up too.

"We have one at every entrance to the house; two at the back door. If I had my way with my dad, I would have one by each window."

She smirks and looks at the lady giving her a disapproving nod of the head.

She ignores her and continues.

"The trees are the reason for your good mood."

Peter-John frowns.

"What?"

She takes in his confused face.

"I can understand why she likes you." She smiles more and takes a sip of her water.

"Like? Me? Who?" He scratches his neck and smiles awkwardly.

"Never mind. Girl talk."

"Oooookay." He eyes her, sits closer to the table and seems to struggle to make a decision of which of the treats to nibble on next.

He takes an éclair and bites into it.

He gestures for her to continue.

Swallows what he was chewing.

"Please, what do you mean? The lemon tree I mean."

She laughs softly to herself at the sight of the cream on the tip of his nose.

"You got a little..." She gestures to his nose. Gets up and passes him a napkin.

"Thank you," he says embarrassed and wipes his nose.

She breathes in deeply.

Starts.

"It's the reason you are here. You know what I mean." She eyes him sideways, glances at the lady pretending to be reading. She notices her look up, but before they make eye contact, Maryam looks away.

Peter-John wipes his hands and his mouth.

"Really. Thank you for these delicious treats. I'll visit you more often." He winks.

He glances at the lady, notices her cold stare and looks immediately away.

"Don't mind her. She means no harm. You are welcome any time. Please let me know in advance though. Arrangements have to be made, if you know what I mean." She gestures in the direction of the lady.

"Sure." Peter-John smiles and takes the glass of ginger-ale and sits back on the sofa. Sips slowly and seems to drift off into his thoughts.

"You were saying..?" Maryam seems eager to continue talking.

Peter-John sits up. Takes another sip of his drink and places it back on the glass coaster on the wooden table.

He clears his throat.

Smiles warmly.

Starts.

"I wanted to talk about the other night." He seems to immediately tense up.

She smiles.

"I figured as much." She tucks at her scarf.

"What exactly were you talking about?"

"I was talking about the stuff that was bothering you." She looks him straight in his eyes.

He makes eye contact and takes in her dark, brown eyes."

She seems to be looking straight into his soul.

He doesn't look away.

"Yes."

She looks down.

Continues.

"What do you want to know?"

"Whatever you can tell me."

He moves closer to the edge of the sofa.

Clasps his hands together and tries his best not to fidget."

"Well, for starters, they don't like being near lemon trees. That's why you appear to be in better spirits since the last time I saw you."

Peter-John shakes his head confused.

"Don't ask me how it works, I just know it does." She looks at the lady. Shakes her head and seems to whisper 'it's true'. The lady merely shakes her head.

She focuses on Peter-John again.

"It's true. I really feel... free somehow. And you say I have the lemon trees to thank for that?" He seems unconvinced.

"That and other things. Yes."

"What are these things... and why are they hounding me?"

"Why is he in-love with you you mean to ask?"

Peter-John looks away embarrassed.

Then back at Maryam.

"Yes."

"I have no clue. I don't know what drives them. I don't chat to them either. I just... see them. Since I was a child. Parents initially thought I was possessed or crazy. Had a... well-versed... man recite some prayers to exorcize them from me. When that didn't work out, they had me taken to some mental place for observation."

She sighs.

Looks at the lady.

Sighs more.

"And?" Peter-John was on the edge of his seat.

"And nothing. Lots of money later and I still have the same problems. Believe me, I more than anyone want them to leave me alone, but they won't. The trees and other stuff keep me safe in my house. At least. Have not had an encounter... till..." She seems to have said too much.

"Yes..."

"Never mind."

She takes a sip of her water.

Peter-John was curious though. He observes her.

Starts.

"Till the other night. Something happened. Am I right?"

Maryam frowns. Smiles.

"Jeanne was right about you. You're very intuitive. Insightful."

"She did did she?" He frowns.

"She means you no harm. We don't have time for gossip. We're simply concerned."

"I understand. Please, tell me what happened."

She sighs.

"If you must know. The one that is... intrigued... by you, paid me a visit. Frankly can't understand why he would leave your side. I must pose some threat to him."

"What did he do? How do you know it was him?"

"I recognized him from the place at the mall. I never forget their faces and none of them ever look the same."

Peter-John stares at her with a blank expression.

"He tried to strangle me in my sleep, if you must know. Usually it appears to be as if I am dreaming, but I woke up and it was still strangling me. It couldn't get past the gate because of something I left there, so it stretched its arm all the way from there, into my window and started strangling me. Luckily I had something tucked away in my pillow. When he touched it, it burned him and he let go."

She rolls her eyes and takes another sip of water.

Her pale cheeks seem to go red.

The red surrounding her irises were now completely gone.

One could now clearly see the dark brown eyes.

Peter-John stares at them in disbelief.

Looks down and then back at her.

Frowns more.

"I know. Crazy right?" She starts before he could. Takes another sip of water.

"I don't know. I always try to keep an open mind. But, honestly, it is hard for me to believe any of it."

Maryam smiles.

"What do you believe, Peter-John? Jeanne said you're on the fence."

He seems to give it some thought.

Starts.

"I want to believe in a God. I really do want to believe that this can't all just be one extra-ordinary coincidence followed by another and another. To accept that we stemmed from a piece of rock simply sounds ridiculous. And yet, I have never experienced anything or seen some sort of miracle. Stuff people claim to be miracles can easily be explained by science."

"True. And yet you are experiencing something."

He looks down embarrassed.

"That can be explained too." He seems unsure of his words.

"I'm all ears."

He stares at the lady, notices her disinterest.

Looks at Maryam and gestures with his fingers to his mouth.

Smiles embarrassed.

Maryam laughs.

"Yes. I know about that. So you think you have some mental disorder?"

"Has to be." He frowns more.

"Then how do you explain your good mood? Far as I could tell, you were experiencing something almost every waking hour of your life... and now... suddenly... nothing?"

She frowns questioningly.

Peter-John seems unsure of himself. Suddenly starts fidgeting.

"Just because you don't believe in them, doesn't mean they aren't real. And as far as I can tell... they sense something in you and they either want it for themselves or make sure that you never realize your potential."

"Potential for what?" He quenches his suddenly dry throat with some ginger-ale.

"I don't know. We all have our roles to play. So do you."

She gets up and walks to the bookshelf to their left.

She removes a book.

"Madison says you collect books. Sometimes you write."

He takes the books from her.

"I do. And sometimes I do a bit of scribbling. Madison mentioned me?" He seems suddenly much more interested.

Maryam laughs softly.

"Read that. No pressure. Maybe it will give you some answers."

She walks to the long hallway and gestures for him to join her.

She opens the door.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I must excuse myself." She rolls her eyes in the direction of the lady that followed them into the hallway.

"Pop by any time though. Just let me know." She smiles warmly.

"It was nice to have you."

"Thanks for having me. And thanks again for all the delicious stuff."

He steps outside.

"Peter-John, wait. She opens the small cabinet in the hallway. Removes something and hands it to him.

"A small present. For next time you feel like scribbling."

He takes it from her.

Stares at it.

"Tha... thank you, Maryam. It's beautiful."

Maryam smiles warmly.

"Don't mention it. Maybe you'll let me read your stories one day. Or whatever it is that you write."

"Will do. One day. Perhaps." He frowns.

Starts heading to the gate.

Maryam stares at him as he leaves.

Immediately her eyes go red again.

She starts mumbling something and returns Peter-John's wave and closes the door.

ن

"Seems like trouble that boy. Where did you meet him?"

The woman turns and starts walking towards the lounge.

"Yes, Mê. You say that about everyone." Maryam shakes her head as she follows the woman into the lounge.

They both sit down.

"Don't take that tone with me, young lady. You should remember who you are talking to." The lady rolls her eyes.

She points a finger at Maryam.

"I promised your mother I will take care of you and that is all I am doing."

"I'm sorry, Mê. I know you only mean well." Her voice was softer.

Apologetic.

"I was listening to you as you spoke about the past."

The woman shakes her head.

"That is not something to be proud of Maryam. You nearly gave your father a heart attack."

Maryam tries to hide her smile.

She knew it was serious, but that was in the past.

Why must she always bring it up?

"I apologized for that many times before, Mê. When will you forgive me? Bë is okay. Nothing happened to him. Please stop mentioning it. I was simply sharing with a friend. I'm not proud of it either. I have changed."

She looks the woman dead in the face.

The woman shakes her head.

Removes her pink scarf and turquoise shoal.

She puts it down on her lap.

Focuses on Maryam and starts.

"One thing you must remember, my child, is that Allah placed you in our care. That is our responsibility given to us by Him. To have children is no joke. It is one of the greatest blessings, yes, but it is also one of a parent's greatest tests."

She sits up.

Softens her voice.

"We are responsible for the things you do, first and foremost concerning your deen, to ensure that you have all the tools for gaining jannah. That you are educated, not only academically, but more importantly Islam. Then to ensure that you make the right decisions here in this play-place called the dunya, with its many distractions."

She breathes in deep.

Exhales softly.

"I am not telling you what you must do, Maryam. But I do pray that you remember these things when you are out on your own.

Maybe I am hard on you, but that is only because I care for you. If this boy is going to continue coming here, then that is fine. Just remember the rules and remember that you are a Muslim."

She picks up her scarf and shoal, gets off the sofa and as she starts to leave.

"JazakAllah, Mê. I appreciate... all... that you do. May Allah reward you. Mom will be happy to know that I am in good hands."

She gets up and gives the woman a hug.

Rubs her hand over her grey hair.

Cups her cheek.

"I will do my best not to disappoint you. I will remember the rules."

She kisses her forehead.

"I think Allah has brought him here for a reason. I can feel it."

The woman rubs her cheek.

"Allah knows best."

She kisses Maryam's cheek then leaves the lounge.

"Insha'Allah," Maryam says.

She walks to the veranda door.

Stands in the walkway.

Suddenly her eyes go red.

She cringes slightly.

Closes the door and heads straight to her room.

ن

He takes a seat at his desk.

The desk lamp the only source of light in the dark room.

Paper with words scribbled on them lay scattered on the desk.

He stares up at the concrete ceiling.

Listens.

The marble kept bouncing.

It irritated him.

It drove Drew crazy.

He remembers.

"What the hell are they doing up there!!!"

He runs to the kitchen and gets the bar of the weights set and start banging against the ceiling hard. Small pieces of concrete fell all over the floor and couch.

He bangs harder and screams more.

After a while he stops and tosses the bar onto the floor.

"Drew, calm down, bro."

Peter-John tries to remain cool.

He knew how Drew could get when he was like this.

"Don't tell me to calm down! They should be kicked out. Noisy menaces!"

He starts pacing.

Pulls at his hair.

"It's really driving me crazy, Pete. I can't take much more of this."

Peter-John goes and takes a seat on the couch.

They managed to stitch up the hole that Drew made earlier the week.

"Sit down, Drew. Talk to me. What's going on? I know it's more than just the noise upstairs."

He waits patiently.

Drew paces less.

He stares at Peter-John.

Shakes his head.

Exhales deeply and throws himself on the couch next to Peter-John.

Sits back for a while.

Then sits more to the edge.

"I don't know, Pete. I'm going crazy. I can't concentrate. I'm talking to myself and all I want is to get wasted. More than usual."

He rubs his face.

Gives Peter-John a quick look, then continues.

"Don't know why you are still hopeful. Why you're still here. It can't be easy for you to be around me."

He mumbles softly under his breath.

"I'm bad news."

Peter-John shakes his head.

"Stop saying that. Stop breaking yourself down. It's not healthy."

He bulges his fist.

It irritated him when he felt like there was nothing that he could do to help his friend.

"It's true, Pete. That's why she left me! I'm worthless!"

Peter-John keeps quiet.

Continues to listen.

"Something isn't kosher. I... I don't know... what exactly, but I sometimes feel like I am not in control of myself anymore. Like... I don't know how to explain it."

He shakes his head.

"I'm feeling... suicidal too."

"You're not serious? Drew, please tell me you're just kidding? You're really scaring me. Put those thoughts out of your mind. I'm serious."

He removes his spectacles.

Rubs his temples and puts the spectacles back.

"So am I, Peter-John. Does it look like I am kidding?"

He puts his head between his legs.

"I can't take it anymore. I just want to end it all. That's all I want to do... end it."

Peter-John shakes his head as he remembers seeing Drew like that.

He picks up his pen.

He feels suddenly calm.

He puts the pen to the clean sheet of paper in front of him and starts to write.

ن

"Loss of information."

Maryam gets up and heads to the door. She stares at the fence.

Turns and faces Peter-John still seated.

"That's all I can't think if there should be a cyber-attack. Forget all the power and stuff going down." She smiles at the lady sitting in the corner.

She heads back to the couch.

Sits down.

"This digital age... all our information only exists as bytes, bits; a bunch of ones and zeros. No one goes to the library anymore, certainly not the younger generation."

She sighs.

"The enemy is plotting. Something. All I know is the most important information, will however not be lost. Not that it matters, because... never mind."

"Never mind what and what information are you taking about?"

Peter-John wants to get more of the snacks on the table, but decides against it. He takes a napkin and wipes his mouth and fingers.

"People refuse to believe. I mean the Quran."

"Okay. And why won't that be lost?"

Peter-John curious.

"Because it does not merely exist in book form, or digitally. It exists in the memories of the Muslims."

"You mean people actually know the entire Quran."

"Letter for letter. Back to front. Every year at least a couple of thousand memorizes it. They're known as hafiz."

Maryam stares at the open window, then slowly back at Peter-John.

"That's incredible."

"It is. They can burn the Quran all they want. If they want to get rid of it, they'll have to kill all the Muslims. Astagfirullah."

Peter-John stares at her awkwardly.

Decides to have another snack.

"Any way, I suppose with all the information lost, they can finally implement the new world order. Officially. One religion, one language, etcetera."

"Don't you find it curious, that everything that is happening around us, on the news, TV and Youtube anyway, is exactly in line with what is written in the Bible?"

Peter-John gives it some thought.

"What do you mean?"

She ponders and starts.

"Well, for instance all this rapture business; if it's not some artist on a Rapture tour, then it's Twitter. So and so has lost so many followers. The Twitter rapture!"

She laughs.

"Then all the videos on Youtube about people disappearing without a trace."

"The Bible talks of a rapture towards the time of Armageddon."

He shakes his head as if he understands what she means.

"All these videos about sea animals dying, blood rivers, dead birds and fish raining from the sky, earthquakes, volcanoes. It all ties with what the Bible says."

She takes a sip of her spiced tea.

"Doesn't that mean that the Bible is true then?"

Peter-John confused.

"Or it could just all be how they plotted it all to be."

"Yes, but what makes you so sure?"

Maryam stares out of the window.

She looks down quick.

Mutters something, then looks back up.

Relieved, she continues.

"My guidance is the Quran. It clearly says that Allah did send down books of guidance, before the Quran. These books are the Torah, the Zabur of Dawud, the Psalms of David and the Injeel of Isa, the Gospel of Jesus."

"I never knew that."

"Yes. Allah however says that these books have been corrupted by the very people they were sent to."

"The Jews?"

"Exactly, yes. That is why they earned God's wrath."

"That explains quite a lot regarding the Jews history."

"Doesn't it just."

"Tell me more."

"Well Allah says that they changed the words of God and made it according to their own desires. One informed guess should tell you who enticed them to do so."

"Satan."

"Correct. Do you see, that humans are not the enemy, but that satan is?"

"I do."

"They changed it and then sold it for a miserable price, says Allah. What do you know about the Bible?"

"It was one of the bestselling books of all time."

"Exactly."

Peter-John seems to get Maryam more and more.

"So, there is truth in the Bible, but also lies?"

"Bingo."

"I get it. That's why many things are true and we accept that that is the case for all of it."

Maryam nods yes.

"If you need any further proof, then simply look, for instance at the non-negotiable Ten Commandments. The second commandment has totally been removed by the Catholics."

"What? You shall have no other gods above Me. You shall not make for yourself a graven image, nor any manner of likeness of anything that is in the heaven above, etcetera, etcetera. Or something like that."

"Yes. They removed it and split the tenth commandment into two parts."

"Really?"

Maryam nods.

"If they can change the Ten Commandments what stops them from changing the rest of it?"

Peter-John shakes his head in agreement.

He takes another pastry.

Savors it while deep in thought.

ن

"Isn't it just ridiculous to think that humans can control the weather."

Peter-John says rhetorically.

"I don't find that ridiculous at all."

Maryam doesn't flinch.

"Iblis or satan, clearly says, "by Your power", meaning God's power, he will put us in the wrong. God grants him power to do these, seemingly, impossible things."

She nods.

"Not ridiculous at all."

"What I find strange is that the Christmas tree is such a big part of Christmas, and yet according to the nativity there is a manger and no tree. Why have this Christmas tree?"

Peter-John ponders this, but says nothing.

"These are really all Pagan believes that have been adopted by Christians, or more, the Pagans have made Christians to do their rituals, if that makes sense."

Peter-John doesn't say anything.

"It is curious, that according to the Quran, Jesus was born under a tree. So, if anything, the tree is a reflection of the real birth of Jesus, the gift God sent to the Jews and as a sign for the whole world. It brings true meaning to the gifts under the tree. It is another truth that is hidden in plain sight and we do not see it for what it is." Maryam sighs.

And the pains of childbirth drove her to the trunk of a palm tree. She said, "Oh, I wish I had died before this and was in oblivion, forgotten."

Surah Maryam (Mary) 19:23

"The coming of the anti-Christ is very near. You can see the signs everywhere," Maryam sips some water.

"I have noticed an increase in celebs going to church and them finding God suddenly."

Maryam looks at him curiously.

"Hey, if they have turned to God, then that is good for them."

Peter-John frowns. "You have your doubts however?" He makes eye contact.

"It is like you said, Peter-John. The celebrity is there to influence us. So as long as they are influencing people to believe that Jesus is the son of God or God himself, they are working for the anti-Christ, cause that is what the anti-Christ will say. He is the son of God and finally, he is God. That is according to Islam. I mean no harm to these celebs, but those are the facts."

Peter-John nods his head.

"What is your take on Jesus curing the sick and making a clay bird come to life and him walking on water? Isn't that miraculous? Not just anyone can do that, if it is true. I am not so convinced of all this."

Maryam gathers her thoughts and begins.

"It is God who did those things, not Jesus. Did Moses part the seas, or did God part the seas? Did Jonah not survive inside the whale? Did he have power or did God do it? Was Abraham not thrown in the fire and didn't get burnt? Is he fireproof or did God cool the fire? In Islam Abraham wanted a sign from God to strengthen his faith so God let him cut birds up and told him to place them on different places, told him to call them and they came back alive. Does that make Abraham a God?

And (remember) when Ibrahim said, "My Lord! Show me how You give life to the dead." He (Allah) said: "Do you not believe" He (Ibrahim) said: "Yes (I believe), but to be stronger in faith." He said: "Take four birds, then cause them to incline towards you (then slaughter them, cut them into pieces), and then put a portion of them on every hill, and call them, they will come to you in haste. And know that Allah is All-Mighty, All-Wise.")

Surah Al-Baqarah (The Cow) 2:260

"There is this big thing about miracles that have people so baffled that they start attributing divinity to mere people. And that is what Jesus was, a person. A very pious person and that is the difference between us. He reached a level of piety that God worked through him. If we work towards that level of piety, God will work similarly through us. Many Muslim saints, friends of God, have performed similar miracles as Jesus, like walk on water, for example." Maryam averts her gaze to the veranda and then back to Peter-John.

Peter-John notices but says nothing.

"Miracles are what the anti-Christ will use to convince the people that he is the Messiah or that he is God. One thing he will do is kill a man and bring the man back to life."

Narrated Abu Said Al-Khudri:

Allah's Apostle told us a long narrative about Ad-Dajjal, and among the many things he mentioned, was his saying, "Ad-Dajjal will come and it will be forbidden for him to pass through the entrances of Medina. He will land in some of the salty barren areas (outside) Medina; on that day the best man or one of the best men will come up to him and say, 'I testify that you are the same Dajjal whose description was given to us by Allah's Apostle.' Ad-Dajjal will say to the people, 'If I kill this man and bring him back to life again, will you doubt my claim?' They will say, 'No.' Then Ad-Dajjal will kill that man and bring him back to life. That man will say, 'Now I know your reality better than before.' Ad-Dajjal will say, 'I want to kill him but I cannot.'"

(Sahih Bukhari 3.106)

"We are so desperate to see signs and miracles that it will be our downfall when the anti-Christ arrives. He will even control the weather. It all ties together with what we said earlier. They can control the weather and he will show it as one of his miracles to convince us of his fake divinity."

He would then give command to the sky and there would be rainfall upon the earth and it would grow crops. Then in the evening, their posturing animals would come to them with their humps very high and their udders full of milk and their flanks stretched. He would then come to another people and invite them. But they would reject him and he would go away from them and there would be drought for them and nothing would be left with them in the form of wealth.

(Sahih Muslim 41.7015)

"No, Peter-John, as long as they are preaching that Jesus is the son of God or is God, they are working for the enemy. I pray that God will open their eyes."

Peter-John doesn't say anything. He didn't want to get involved in all of this, because he was a sceptic. But he wanted to hear what she had to say.

"I heard the other day that a celebrity was a Jehovah witness and people were so happy that he was a believer, but at the same time they are saying he is worshipping two masters by remaining a celeb."

"What about it got you curious?" asks Peter-John as he reaches for another pastry.

"What got me was how foolish these people were, the ones saying these things. Can they not see what the agenda is? The agenda is to show Jehovah witnesses that they too can become celebs and still be true to their faith, because look at how successful this guy is. He must be blessed. If not that, they are at least influenced by him because he is one of them." Maryam shakes her head.

"The same as when that lady said that the one celeb is here to influence people to become Muslim. You let your daughters lust after this man, but he is there to drive them to become Muslim." She laughs.

"Why do you laugh?" Peter-John was enjoying his treat.

"Because, the enemy would never allow Islam to be propagated by those influencing the masses that is why. If this woman used her head, she would see that he was there to influence Muslims. To show them that they can be like this guy and still be Muslim. It couldn't be clearer than day light."

Peter-John nods his head. 'I understand what you are saying."

"It is all very sad really, but what can we do? The anti-Christ must come. That is part of God's plan. I hope you will be guided to the truth, Peter-John."

He stares at Maryam intently.

What if she was right?

The French Connection

#NoAir

#Family

"Breakfast is ready," says Kristin as she heads into the lounge.

Jeanne was alone.

"What's up? You had that same look the day I first met you."

Kristin goes to sit next to her on the thick, white carpet. She starts twirling her hair through her fingers.

Jeanne looks at her curiously.

"And how exactly did I look." She crosses her legs and puts down the teddy bear she was holding.

"Like that, exactly like you do now. I call it the classic J look, very dramatic and... dramatic." She smiles and grabs the teddy bear.

"Tell me... who is he?"

"What are you on about, Kris. I don't have a look and what do you..."

"When I first met you, you looked like you... left someone behind. Someone you obviously cared about a lot. Like all that was goin' on in your head was whether you made the right decision to leave Paris and come here."

She eyes her with slit eyes.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

She smirks and throws herself back against the single sitter.

"Come on. Share. Or do you want me to start teasin' you?"

"I don't know what you're on about."

Kristin smirks again and clears her throat.

"You asked for it."

She starts.

"Excuza me, excuza me, I wasah wanda-ring if you-ah could-ah show-ah me-ah to where I-ha might-ah find-ah the way-ah to the marché?

You know-ah, for to buy the fruit-ah and da vegetaybles, oui." Kristin adds a heavy nasal sound to her imitation and her face is quite animated as she pokes fun at the way Jeanne spoke when she just moved into the house.

Annoyed, Jeanne sits up straight; stares at Kristin for a while and starts.

"Love is for the naïve. Those stuck in some childish fantasy."

She looks unapologetically at Kristin and starts twirling her hair through her fingers.

"So you're a cynic?" Kristin's cheerful melody suddenly docile and her face tense. She seemed agitated.

"I really don't appreciate labels. Each one of us can be anything at any time that does not make us that particular trait."

She stops her hair twirling and starts tracing the patterns on her pyjamas.

She takes in Kristin's confused look and despite feeling the urge to clear things up for her, she ignores her questioning gaze and instead stares off into space.

It was almost the top of the hour. She focuses on the clock against the wall. She enjoyed watching the tree sparrow pop from the hole beneath the bird cage. Soon the room would be alive with its song. Mornings it would be high pitched shrieking alarm whines and gurgles, soft liquid chirps in the afternoon and at night a sweet song. Jeanne enjoyed all of them, but the lively chirping the most. Its amorous ticking was a pleasant reminder of bedtime while she lay tucked beneath a quilt enjoying a thick book on the sleigh sofa. Sometimes it would send her peacefully off into the worlds of her characters. She read only detective novels, usually involving some court case drama and a pants wearing female protagonist. After her move from Paris, she became more and more withdrawn from the world. Found safety in her square room and company in her books.

We read books to know that we are not alone.

That is the argument she used to fight the loneliness that surrounded her heart. It filled the void in her stomach and kept her from indulging in comfort food. She remembers the words, not too far in the dark compartments of her memory that were spoken, in the walk-in closet they used to share.

It is better than being stupid.

The call of the sparrow puts the smile back on her face.

She turns and faces Kristin that still stared at her as if annoyed.

"What? Zat look on yourr face. Iz zomezing ze matterr." She puts her hand to her mouth embarrassed.

"You only do that when you're nervous. Have you noticed?"

"Noticed what? I have no idea what you ar...ah... are referring too." She avoids eye contact and continues to trace the patterns on her pyjamas.

"Whadever, Miss Fancy." She shakes her head and strokes the teddy bear in her lap.

"What is it then? If you're not a cynic, then what?

Jeanne gives it some thought.

Then.

"Men are pigs. That's all I have to say. Nothing but pigs. Show them some warm affection, loving tenderness, endure their whining, stroke their oh so fragile egos and all they end up doing is cheat on you. Ne peut pas le garder dans leur pantalon." She smirks and sits up straight.

"Always comes back to that with you? Why is that?"

"It's the truth, Kris. If not that then they are... autre... or abusive."

Kristin flinches slightly; gathers her thoughts for a moment.

"He beat you, didn't he? Your mystery man from the grand Pari'?

She swallows awkwardly as the words leave her mouth, but she shows no remorse. Jeanne always clams up and offers nothing but vague responses when it comes to the mystery man, if she gives any at all. Beneath her hard shell hid a fragile little girl that wanted something that could only be found behind her mother's dress or against her bosom.

Kristin was convinced.

Jeanne looks at Kristin. She knew that look. She wasn't going to let it go. Reluctantly she gives in.

"His name is Daniel." She says his name almost as if the mention of the name stings some part of her. She clearly flinched as soon as it left her mouth.

She gets up, heads to the small coffee table more to the center of the room, gets the bowel of caramel covered popcorn and reclines on the sleigh sofa. Kristin gets up from the carpet and takes a seat next to her.

"Do I have to pry it from you again?"

Kristin puts some popcorn in her mouth.

She snuggles more into the couch.

Jeanne tries to avert her expectant gaze.

"What? You have that look again.'

She fiddles with her shirt collar.

"You know what. Who's this Daniel?"

Jeanne sighs.

"Daniel." She smiles, then as if suddenly excited. "You know, I could never really properly say his name. I always called him, Da-nielle."

She smirks.

Then sighs.

Deeper.

"I met him in France, while I was working with Tenderson. We were..." She sighs more, puts her feet on the couch and pulls her knees to her chest.

"Ce est tout simplement horrible."

She rests her head on her knees.

Kristin takes a handful of the popcorn and puts the bowl onto the floor.

She sits up more.

Eyes focussed.

Curious.

Jeanne continues.

"We were... we were working on this case. Boy called Vincent."

She breathes deep.

Sits up again.

Continues.

"With Robert, I thought I had seen the worst side of humanity, but I was wrong, so wrong."

She glances at Kristin.

Tries to smile, but only manages a straight pull of the lips.

"You ever hear of the Miviludes?"

Kristin gives it some thought.

"Yeah. Isn't that that French government thing creaded to investigate sects?"

"Oui. On paper that's what it is. But Tenderson discovered a more sinister role they play. And who were really pulling the strings."

She puts her feet back on the floor, rubbing them nervously on the thick carpet.

She hunches forward.

"They almost murdered poor Francesco. Tenderson was getting too close to the truth."

Kristin was confused.

"What exactly are you talking about? What does this have to do with, you know, Robert and Vincent?"

Jeanne sits back again, putting her feet back on the couch.

She takes her ponytail to her chest and starts playing with it.

"Well, you know about Tenderson. He's based here in America, but he was in France for a year. He'd just completed an investigation in Marcinelle. That's what led him to France."

"I heard of him, but what exactly is it that he does?" Kristin still looks confused.

"He investigates child abuse, but... strange... cases. Not the regular sort of abuse."

Kristin nods.

"Yes, I think you told me. Didn't you say he thought it linked to some dark cult that... yes...sacrifices babies, torture children sexually, etcetera?"

She was about to put more popcorn in her mouth, but as if suddenly dismayed, she throws it back into the bowl.

"You're right. What was interesting about Robert and Vincent was that they both gave exactly the same story, though they had never met. Both said they witnessed children being tortured and killed. Both spoke of men in dark robes."

She sighs.

"More however, both expressed that they heard their father's voices. They were participating, also dressed in these hooded robes."

"How old were these children?"

"Robert was ten at the time, Vincent four when it begun, perhaps earlier. But he only started talking about this when he was five. His mom, Marie-Claire, heard about Tenderson and that's how this all came to light."

"What exactly happened?"

Kristin still confused.

"Suffice it to say that Tenderson discovered that this cult had people of influence as members, that they had the Miviludes in their pockets."

"So you're sayin' that they allowed these atrocidies to continue? Did nothin'?"

"Oui."

Kristin shakes her head.

"Unbelievable."

"You said it. The ones that are supposed to protect us are either working for the bad guys, or can't... won't... do anything for fear of what might happen to them if they open their mouths."

"And Daniel? How does he fit into all of this?"

Jeanne smiles.

Shrugs.

Starts.

"Daniel is a freelance journalist from England. His story led him to France. This after he stumbled upon something; it all had to do with Jersey Island, not exactly sure what though. He's very secretive about work and likes to get all the facts before saying anything. Anyway, it led him to Tenderson and that's how we met."

Jeanne clears her throat.

Gets off the couch and heads to the kitchen.

She returns with two glasses of water. "Breakfast smells great, you went all out again." She hands Kristin a glass of water.

"Thanks."

Kristin takes a sip.

She waits for Jeanne to sit before asking.

"So, what exactly is the story between the two of you?"

She sounds less sombre; excited almost.

Takes a handful of popcorn.

Stares at Jeanne curiously.

"Very well. You are really relentless. Very nosy."

She breathes in deep.

"He joined in on one of the interviews I conducted. It was my very first time to do so alone. Tenderson trusted me more as time went on. I was very nervous."

She smiles.

"I think Daniel noticed. I could never be sure."

She stares as if remembering.

"It was his eyes; those warm, hazel eyes. He kept staring, or gazing, I don't know. Not in an intrusive way, but more as if he was trying to help me relax. You might think you know me when I'm agitated, but you haven't seen me in France. Being around these things and having to compose yourself for the children is not easy."

She breathes out hard.

"Gets me upset to think about it."

She takes a sip of water.

Plays with her ponytail more.

"We started seeing each other. Casually at first, but then he asked me to make things official. Be his girlfriend. I was in heaven. Tall, handsome man, those acne scars on his face, I wanted to caress them. I liked them. Fact that he was British didn't go down too well with my parents, but they came around after they noticed what I did."

"And what was that?"

Kristin more curious.

Jeanne takes in her gaze.

Smiles.

"He had a heart. He really cared. That's why he was doing what he was. The interview with Robert left him, I don't know. I guess he felt the helplessness; like he was determined to do something to help him. Robert, I mean. I guess all of them."

"Then what went wrong?"

Kristin was confused.

"You seem to have loved him. From listenin' to you, I'd say you still do."

Kristin stares at her curiously.

"Please, just let it go. I am more annoyed that he followed me here. I got a call from my dad, that he found his way here."

There is a knock at the door.

Jeanne tenses up. She looks at the clock, gets off the couch and slips onto the floor.

Kristin stares at her unsure.

"What's wrong? You expectin' someone?"

Jeanne says nothing, just broods on the floor.

Kristin takes the quilt on the couch and heads to the main door.

She throws the small quilt over her shoulders, checks her hair in the mirror in the foyer, satisfied, she opens the door.

A tall, brown haired man stood on the porch, dressed in a light suit, beige Panama hat and shiny black shoes.

She swallows hard and covers herself more.

"Yes. Can I help you with somethin'?"

He removes his straw hat.

"Pardon my intrusion. I would usually announce myself before a visit, but I find myself in a bit of a predicament."

English.

Definitely not from around here.

"Daniel Watson, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance." He reaches for her hand.

I knew it.

Here's our mystery man.

Hesitantly, she lets him take it. He kisses it softly then stands back.

"I'm... Kristin."

She flutters, fiddles with the quilt, twirling the tassels with her fingers.

"If it is not too much of an inconvenience... I do not mean to trouble you... but I am in search of someone very dear to my heart," he runs his right hand over his hair, the hat close to his heart, in his left, "Jeanne, Jeanne Dieudonné. Do you know where I might find her? "

Kristin smiles.

"Please, do come in. Jeanne is inside."

He picks up the brown parcel next to him and heads excitedly into the house.

Waiting in the foyer was Jeanne.

"Da-nielle..."

She swallows hard as their eyes meet. They just stare into each other's eyes. For a brief second, Jeanne's cheeks go pink, she flinches and storms up the stairs.

"Whad have you got there, handsome?"

She takes the paper bag from him and peeks inside.

"Mmmmmmmmmm. This one's got my name on it." She takes out one of the chocolate croissants and takes a bite.

"You're too kind." She hands him back the bag, heads into the kitchen and takes a seat at the kitchen table. 'Please, I am sure Jeanne is over the moon to see you. She'll be back soon. You just surprised her. Come inside."

Daniel heads into the kitchen.

"Where did you get these, so fresh, still warm?" She takes another bite.

"Deli..." He admires her as she takes a bite of her pancakes, topped with berries and cream, drizzled with maple syrup.

"They're really scrumptious. I could eat them all." She takes a bite of her sausage and then scoops some scrambled egg onto the croissant and takes a bite.

She hums to herself as she chews.

He continues to watch her.

She sighs with every bite of her food.

He smiles to himself.

"I can get you some if you'd like." She says as she finishes the last of the food on her plate.

She gets up, heads to the stove, scoops more egg and sausage into her plate. Puts a pancake to her mouth, holds it there and puts another on her plate. She heads back to the table, grabbing the cream as she sits down.

She bites into the pancake in her mouth and sprays some cream into her mouth, then sprays cream onto the pancake on her plate.

"I have had breakfast, thank you. I am quite parched, though. Mind if I get myself some water?"

He continues to watch her enjoy her food.

"No problem. Tap or bottled? Bottled is over there, the glasses are in the cupboard behind you."

He gets a glass and pours some water from the bottle on the counter.

He continues to watch her as he takes small sips of his water.

"Why're you starin' at me like that? Have I got somethin' on my face? Is it cream?" She rubs her face.

"No, not at all. I..."

"He disagrees with women that eat too much?"

Jeanne smirks as she abruptly enters the kitchen.

"If you got a problem with my appetite..."

"Not at all," he interrupts.

He straightens up at the sight of Jeanne.

"I find a girl with a healthy appetite, rather appealing, attractive in ways that is beyond even my own comprehension." He grins. "I enjoy watching. That's all."

"Grand menteur de graisse..." Jeanne says in disagreement.

She brushes past him and opens the cupboard.

He ducks just in time, the edge of the cupboard door nearly hitting him right in the eye.

"Dear, Jeanne, love, when will you stop with this?"

He moves more towards the kitchen table.

Jeanne throws dagger eyes in his direction.

She smirks.

Takes a cup and closes the cupboard with a hard slam.

"Ze day you start being 'onest. Zat is the day I will stop."

She shouts.

"Arrrrrrggggggggg! Da-nielle! I can't believe zis! Why did you 'ave to come 'ere!?"

She heads to the sink fast.

Rinses the cup and then heads to the counter with the bottled water.

"Jeanne..."

"Do not Jeanne me. I told you I never want to see you again. Wvich part of zat was not clear to you!?"

Kristin looks at Jeanne astonished. She takes a bite of her sausage and chews it slowly. She has never seen Jeanne behave this way.

"My sincerest apologies, love. But you left me no other choice. You left without any explanation, none at all. I was a mess. I only wish to know what it is I did, said wrong. Why did you end our engagement? I deserve an answer."

He moves closer to her, hesitantly.

"The worst was not knowing what it is I did? What went wrong? Why you left... without a word? That was torture. Cruel, Jeanne. You knew I loved you. You were my everything. Without you, I lost my way. You were my compass, the voice in the dark... you knew that, because I told you. It was no secret. So why? Why, Jeanne? You owe me that much at least."
The Butterfly

#TheFeeling

Ben Miller was a handsome man. It wasn't only that when he frowned he still seemed to be smiling, nor the fine features of his face. It wasn't anything about his physical appearance she realizes. It was the light that seemed to emanate from his dark, black eyes. The light was even evident from his face, especially when he smiled, that broad way he did, rarely though. He was mostly serious and always in thought.

From the very first moment Claire laid her eyes on him, she felt strangely drawn to him. The day they met, was at the Super Soldier summit in Las Vegas. She was there to do a presentation for a small group of interested individuals. They were not many though. Most of the people at the summit were more interested in hearing about the folk who believed they were the products of secret government experiments that left them with extraordinary abilities. Yes, they were upset that they were experimented on, but felt that it was all for some greater purpose. The Jesus children that believed they were here to help humanity were of particular interest.

Claire was halfway through her synopsis, when Ben Miller casually walked into the small conference venue and sat down. He nodded his head in apology for the disturbance and as a courteous greeting. She didn't know what to do but smile and touch her hair. Thinking back on the moment she really could have kicked herself for acting so foolishly. From the moment she did that, her whole confidence sank to the bottom of the floor and on top of that her whole presentation came crashing down, stomping it firmly into oblivion. She handed over to her over eager assistant and basically stormed out of the room. As soon as she was outside she threw herself against the wall and hid her face in shame in the palm of her hands. After a few short minutes her assistant followed and soon the people started leaving the venue.

Before she could get away, Ben Miller walked out and approached her. His hair was dark and spikey. He was dressed in a white T-shirt, casual, denim jeans and white DGKs. He was carrying his navy letterman in his left hand. With his right hand he reached towards her and said.

"Didn't mean to startle you, my name is Ben. It really is such a pleasure to meet you." He takes her right hand and squeezes it gently. She didn't know what to do, but squeeze his too.

"Ugh um," Claire clears her throat. She quickly makes eye contact then looks down again, her hand still in his. She felt silly that she couldn't stop herself from grinning ear to ear. Who was the man and how did he know her? After a few deep breathes, she composes herself and looks up to meet his eyes. They appeared like two black portals that was about to beam her to another galaxy. Claire felt somehow comforted by this thought. Perhaps a beautiful place where there was peace and everyone was free. He seemed gentle and kind.

She shakes off the thought and asks.

"Urgh, do I know you from somewhere?" She tries hard to lower her voice from the alarmed high pitch to a more casual, warmer deeper tone.

Ben smiles, lets go of her hand and runs his through his hair casually.

"I don't believe we have ever met, but I have heard a great deal about you, Miss Claire." He said her name as if he had spoken it many times before.

Claire felt a strange tingling sensation in her skin and the fine hairs on her arm stood up. She liked the sound of his voice. She felt strangely comforted by that too.

"I was wondering if I could have a word regarding your findings in London and what it is that makes you believe that there is a connection to it all in America." Ben smiles sincerely.

Claire was baffled by all this information about herself, her nose scrunches slightly and soft creases forms between her eyebrows. Her red freckles seemed to go darker. She runs her hand through her bright red, shoulder length hair and shakes her head. For some reason, she just trusted him. She says.

"Sure, we can do that now. Just give me a sec. Can I meet you in the lounge in say five minutes?" Claire tries hard not to grin more.

ج

A big crowd of about fifty people were gathered in the lounge when Ben arrives. They were having an informal discussion about DIDs.

A very thin girl with very short, black hair was the focus of attention. She was dressed in a black turtle neck, black, skinny jeans and wore black boots. Her make-up was a bit eccentric and she had a nose ring in her right nostril. When she spoke, she rarely made eye contact, just sort of stares to the side.

"When we first discovered we were multiple, we kind of had a breakdown. There is no way I can even begin to describe to you what happened." Her voice was hoarse and very strained. It was clear that she found it difficult to speak.

Ben finds himself a seat at the back and listens. The crowd was quiet, listening intently.

"We have an alter named Jessie. We originally thought that she was the core personality, but later we discovered that she was not. At this point in time, we are not even sure if she is a split from the core, or whether she is bein' hosted by us."

A low mumbling erupts from the crowd and a black girl, with long pink and white braids asks.

"When you say hosted, do you mean to say that this alter is somehow from another place outside you and is now inside you? Please, this is sort of important. I have had many debates about this with other units."

Ben was finding it less strange that people were talking about themselves as we and even less strange that they referred to themselves as units.

"We believe that if we are right, that Jessie is someone that died and that her spirit or consciousness latched herself to us. She is 30 years old. We believe that is the age she died at."

The crowd mumbles louder.

"We are not sure, but from what we have figured out in the two years that we have been deprogramming, we believe that Jessie and our body were bein' put through torture at the same time. The trauma was a bit much for Jessie to handle and she died. But we also believe that that is what our handlers intended, for her to enter us. But as I say, we are not sure about anythin'."

She pauses and for the first time looks up as Claire enters the lounge. She smiles at Claire and continues to talk about her condition.

"For almost six months we thought that Jessie was the main personality. The reason we thought this was 'cause she remembered a lot of the trauma that the body was put through, some really horrible things. She helped us to identify that we have at least one hundred alters. Most are all split from the core, with a few exceptions like Jessie that are not in their original body."

Claire sits down on a chair a bit away from Ben. He gives her that beautiful smile. She admires his deep dimples. He had three, the ones at the rounding of his cheeks and the most adorable one at the top of his upper lip. She forces herself to focus on the girl that was talking.

"Only a few of the alters have come out to speak about what they have experienced. Some of them have very different styles, in terms of clothes they like to wear; they have different mannerisms and have unique speakin' voices. That is the reason my voice is so hoarse and strained. We had a new alter come out just this mornin'. It was very briefly, but she came out with a huge bang. We call her Blue Violet. That is to differentiate her from Purple Violet."

The girl's head shakes a bit and she seems suddenly a bit disorientated. She breathes in deep and continues.

"I'm sorry you guys. A suicide alter is tryin' to take hold of the body. Wheneva we are sharin' this stuff with others, they try to take hold of the body. They were created to keep us quiet, basically to scare us so that we will keep quiet, or if it was necessary to bring the body to kill itself. But we have found a way to deprogram them."

"How?" asks a very roundish, older white male. He was leaning against the wall towards the front of the huge lounge.

"It is kinda hard to explain, but it is what we call the practice of projectin' love onto the personality. Inside ourselves we can call the personality out and for a brief moment we can sort of talk to each other. It takes a lot of work, but we have been able to get better control over it these past two years. Yeah, basically we just shower it with love. That is really the only way we can deal with this, by showin' love to the body and by showin' love to each of the alters. It is a God love that makes us stronger."

"Can you tell us a bit more about the trauma that you and the others were put through?" This was an English girl. She was about twenty.

"Wow that is a very difficult question to answer. Wheneva we focus on our trauma, we tend to disassociate. One of the protectors would then take over the body. I believe I am one of the protectors that came out to help Blue Violet. Wheneva an alter is allowed to take control of the body for the first time, it experiences the trauma it was subjected to as if it was happenin' right now. It is a lot for the alter to handle and they tend to not want to be present for that. That is how I am here now. I usually don't get to be out for this long. It is the first time for me to be talkin' to so many people at once. You all look so beautiful. I really can't describe to you how I feel inside."

She pauses and smiles embarrassed. She makes eye contact with Claire and stares at her when she continues to speak.

"For the moment that the trauma is relived, we can all sort of access it. We are made to see it, but it is only real for the alter that was subjected to it. If however the alter remains in control of the body for too long, then the other alters can't see. It is like we all experience lost time, because we are not able to see what is goin' on. It is really hard to explain, but basically, for as long as an alter is in control of the body, the other alters don't know what the body does for the time the body is in control of another. It would just be like time passed or for the alter only the last memory of when it was out would be clear when it is in control of the body again and when it finds itself in different clothes or in a different place, it knows it has lost time." She keeps staring at Claire.

"But to answer your question," she pauses for a second to admire Claire's red hair one last time, then turns and focuses on the English girl that asked the question, "Blue Violet for instance was made to kill young animals. She distinctly remembers havin' to kill a small kitten. It really messed her up. She couldn't deal with what she did and she let go of control of the body. Purple Violet was raped by several men. She is stronger than the rest of us. I guess it is because she went through the things she did. Her main programming was sex kitten programming, many systems refer to it as Beta Kitten programming.

Yeah, basically Purple Violet was used for porn movies and to have sex with whoever wanted to have fun with her. She is an attractive girl we think. Jim finds her rather attractive."

Ben gestures to Claire with his hand. He was holding up five fingers and mimes five too. She understood.

"Yeah, Jim is a guy that is also with us. He is really not happy to be here, because he can't deal with all this gay stuff he says. Not that he is gay, it is just that the alters are mostly women and all are attracted to men, and it grosses him out that he is forced to like sometimes experience the body bein' with men. Also when we have our period, he really freaks out 'cause his body is bleedin' and he feels pain in his chest. It really is not nice for him. He is makin' the best of bein' in this body though. We believe he is another outside personality that was forced into the body. We believe he died when he was fifteen."

The crowd mumbles again, but they were all listening intently to the girl's unbelievable testimony.

"Crystal was put in a den with various animals. When I say den, I mean she was in a small room, inside a cage and there were different animals with her. She distinctly remembers bein' covered by snakes. When she first took control of the body her whole face was covered by snakes. It was really horrific. Her hands were tied up and so too her legs. There was nothin' she could do except disassociate. She is one of the younger ones and we feel very protective of her. We believe she was formed at the age of five. She also has a hard time talkin' because her mind is so young. She likes to play with her teddy bear though. It sort of comforts her and keeps her from disassociatin'. We all do our best to keep her from comin' out, especially if we are outside. Only God knows what she will do if she is exposed to the world."

She pauses and stares at Claire again.

"Taylor was literally treated like an animal. There is a flashback of her bein' forced to drink water from a dirty toilet. She had a collar around her neck. She was subjected to a lot of sensory trauma. Like for instance her eyes were forced to stay open while very violent images were displayed to her through those virtual reality type goggles, the sound was also played loudly into her ears through headphones. She was forced to hear the screams and anguish of the victims. Sometimes she would be put into a dark room and scary noises would be played through speakers. Sometimes she was kept from sleepin' by constantly bein' shocked by one of those stock prods. Needless to say, all of this forced her to disassociate. I am lucky, that I was not put through a lot of what the others went through."

The crowd mumbles loudly and the black girl with the white and pink braids interrupts.

"But isn't it only the one body that went through all of this? Isn't what happened to the alters just what happened to the core personality? I mean, you only have this body?" She was clearly upset. Hearing this stuff was hard for anyone to listen to, let alone believe.

"I suppose you are right, but it is hard to explain. That is the thing about bein' a DID unit. The alters don't know things about the others and they are formed because they couldn't deal with what was happenin' to them, so they formed and were sort of shielded from experiencin' the trauma, if that makes sense."

The black girl wants to say something else, but rather keeps quiet.

"I am sorry you guys, but I am really strugglin' against this suicide alter. I have said way too much. They really don't want people to know about this stuff. I don't know how they trigger us, but I can feel a lot of attacks happenin' to us right now. I just wanted to share this with you all. There is a lot goin' on in our country that no one knows about. It is really sad. And it is not only the US, but globally. They distract you all by keepin' you addicted to movies, music, sports, fashion and all these unimportant things, while they do all of this really horrific stuff. I just wanted to let you guys know that I am just one of many people who have been subjected to this trauma based mind control. Many of us don't even know that we are under control."

She focuses on Claire and smiles.

"I know that one of us is an assassin. Her name is Julie. She uses sex to get to her victims and while they are busy, she kills them. She has killed at least one hundred people that we know of. It really upset her to know that she is a murderer."

She stares at the ground. Her body jerks a bit and her head twists awkwardly. She looks up and seems really out of it for a second. Then she closes her eyes and seems herself again.

"I can't talk much longer, the triggerin' is gettin' worse. I must however tell you about the others."

The crowd goes quiet and Ben, in particular pays closer attention.

"There are these interdimensional beings that are involved with this somehow. They sometimes take control of the body or they are involved with the torture. I really don't know how else to put it to you. They are malevolent. They have no good in them and they do not care about us. They have no empathy, no sympathy and no love. Where they come from I do not know, but they are real and there are many of them. They work with these secret government organisations. Whether they are aliens or reptilians I can't say. All I know is that they mean us only harm. My encounters with them have always only been bad. They don't want me dead however. There is no fun," she rolls her eyes, "in that for them. They rather enjoy seein' us suffer or bein' humiliated. You have no idea the way they enjoy humilatin' the humans.

The porn they make people do that the people seem to enjoy while engagin' in it, is nothin' but humiliation and they are too traumatized to see that what they are doin' is wrong and humilatin'. I know from our experiences with Purple Violet. I tell you now that most popular porn actors are all under mind control. I know it is hard to believe but that is the truth."

The English girl interrupts and asks.

"What about clones, are they not used for the porn, rather than actual people?"

Claire is now intrigued as well.

"I can't tell you much about clones, but I will say that I have met these people that just didn't seem to be all there, like they lacked humanity somehow. I don't want to say they were possessed, but it was just that they looked and acted human, but they were empty shells. They are not nice to be around with. I never felt comfortable with them. Sorry, but it is gettin' really bad you guys."

She puts her hands to her ears.

"Because of the trauma with sound we experienced, our ears are very sensitive and there is some sort of triggerin' with a high pitched noise currently bein' projected onto us. It seems to be comin' from somewhere towards the back of the lounge."

Claire and Ben both look around and try to hear the sound.

"It has been a really good experience for me to be out today and experience all of you beautiful people. I feel lucky to be able to be free from my handlers and to share my story. I only want you guys to know that this is real and that it is much bigger than you think. These people doin' these things are in control of everythin' that happens on earth. They are not merely underground hidin' away, no. They are in the background in control of the news, the media, governments, everythin'. The more people become aware of this, perhaps we can rebel against them. That is my hope at least, if not that, at least get us to be kinder to each other, to care for one another. With all this cruelty that people are put through every second of every day, we really do not need to still hate and hurt each other too. Don't let them turn us against each other."

She takes a deep breath in.

"Finally, to all of you who have been subjected to this trauma based torture, or sexual abuse, or any sort of hurt, know that you are stronger than all of that. If it didn't kill you, then it only made you stronger. You will never be pushed to endure more than you can handle. And with that said, the human body is capable of endurin' a lot. Thank you for listen' to me. My name is Dolly. Thank you for listenin' to me."

She sits down and there is a loud round of applause. People start forming groups and it was just a buzz of many voices.

Ben gestures for Claire to join him outside. She gets up and follows him out to the balcony that overlooks the desert.

Allah burdens not a person beyond his scope. He gets reward for that (good) which he has earned, and he is punished for that (evil) which he has earned. "Our Lord! Punish us not if we forget or fall into error, our Lord! Lay not on us a burden like that which You did lay on those before us (Jews and Christians); our Lord! Put not on us a burden greater than we have strength to bear. Pardon us and grant us Forgiveness. Have mercy on us. You are our Maula (Patron, Supporter and Protector, etc.) and give us victory over the disbelieving people."

Surah Al-Baqarah (The Cow) 2:284-286

Mirrors

#TornApart

#CloseMyEyes

#AllInIt

"Does it make you sad when you think back on those days?"

Justin thinks about this for a while, then answers.

"No. Not anymore." He is sincere.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His face relaxes and he manages a slight smile as he continues.

"For a long time I just wondered why me? Why did it have to happen to me? What did I do to deserve such treatment? Was I such a terrible person that everyone despised me? You know. And these questions were meant for God. No one knew what was happening and if they did, they didn't care to do anything about it." He says that without sounding dramatic. He was merely stating facts about the past.

"And what answers did you get?" She asks.

Justin shakes his head. "None. No answers came. I just always thought that I must be what they are saying. So I deserved it. Instead of feeling like a victim, I rather felt like I needed to ask forgiveness. Like this was my punishment. Like I said, I deserved it."

"Did you always feel like this?"

"No, only after puberty, when I started understanding better."

"How so?"

Justin shakes his head.

"I started becoming aware of myself and my attraction to others."

"I understand. Let's talk a bit more about when you were younger. Think back to when it started. How old were you?"

Justin moves awkwardly on the sofa and answers without hesitation.

"I was definitely five. Reason I say this is because I wasn't at school yet and I was not in kindergarten either. I was at home with a caretaker. He worked at our church."

He sighs.

"I remember it clearly. I was playing outside and he was busy doing something in our garden. When I looked at him, he... urgh... I didn't understand what it was."

Justin clears his throat and sits up more. He tucks at the sleeves of his grey shirt, grasping the left button between his right index and thumb finger and rubbing it gently along the edge.

"He came and took me... inside... to bed."

"Did he hurt you?" She asks calmly.

Justin looks up and makes eyes contact. His beautiful, bright blue eyes softened as their eyes met. He shakes his head as he answers.

"No. Not that I remember." He looks down. "I don't think so, but I often wonder if I maybe just blocked it out. I can't say. But from what I do remember, no. He didn't."

She takes a few notes and puts the pen to her chin, a curious expression on her face.

"Why didn't you tell your parents about it?"

Justin stops fiddling with the button and crosses his arms across his chest.

"I really don't know. That is the God's honest truth."

He sits more up on the sofa, putting his right leg up and resting his foot on his left knee. He starts playing with the shoe lace of is black and white Vans sneakers with his left hand and rests the right in his lap.

"Listening to you, I don't sense that you are bitter or sad about this. Is that an accurate observation?" She removes her spectacles and lets it hang from the string around her neck.

"No, I am not. You are right."

"Do you want to charge any of these people? Take them to court? This is abuse. You do understand that, right?"

Justin nods in understanding.

"I do understand. And no, I don't want to take them to court. Most of them are dead anyway. Not that it matters. I don't wish to press charges."

She puts on her spectacles again and makes some notes. Justin admired her silver, blonde hair. She was a beautiful, attractive woman.

He puts his right foot down and brushes some dirt off his left knee. He was wearing a black chino.

She ends off her notes and closes her notebook.

"I think we are done for today. But before we wrap up, I want to ask you what it is that you hope will come from our time together?"

She sits back, removes her spectacles again and focuses on Justin. She admired his face. He was a handsome boy, bright plump, natural pink lips with a flat and pointy nose. He had a scar to the right of his left eye. His dark brown hair was straight and neatly combed back. She observes his eyes searching for something.

"I just want to move forward. I don't know how to do that. I am not sad about what happened. I am not looking for sympathy. The less people know the better. I don't know why I even tell people. They all just look at me differently after knowing. But I told them because I trusted them and wanted them to know me. Know about me. Understand me. But it just never works out that way."

She nods her head.

"I would like to see you again. I think we have much to discuss. Schedule an appointment with my assistant as you leave. I think in two weeks. In the meantime remember, your past is just that, the past. What matters is the person you choose to be now. People don't need to know about what happened to you. Focus on yourself. And there is no need to tell people that you are seeing me. Just say, you are figuring things out. Okay." She smiles warmly and gets up and walks to open the door.

ك

Ben was waiting outside for Justin. He was in his 1970 Boss Mustang. Sweat was pouring down his face and he seems to be in deep thought. His eyes were wild and he seems scared. When Justin gets into the car he barely takes note of him.

"Thanks for picking me up, dude. I really appreciate it," says Justin sincerely.

He buckles up and settles into the car seat.

"Is everything cool, Ben?" Justin asks when he notices Ben's grieve stricken face. "You seem a bit out of it. Ben?"

Ben turns and faces Justin and seems to really register for the first time that Justin got into the car. He wipes the sweat from his face and runs the same hand through his hair. His spikes stand up straight as he does that.

"Sorry, bro. Yeah, I'm cool, just a lot on my mind." He starts the car and pulls away. "How was your date?" He smiles amused, nudging Justin in the side.

Justin smiles too and plays along.

"It went well. I even got a second date. Who knows what might happen." He winks and laughs.

"I always knew you were a player." Ben laughs.

They both sit quietly for a while. Ben seems to drift into deep thought again. Deep creases form on his forehead and between his eyes.

Justin didn't notice as he started speaking about his session.

"I never thought I would end up sitting in the same room with a head doctor. Humph," he chuckles, "I mean, I remember telling people that no shrink could ever get me to talk. Why I thought like that, I don't know. Guess I always thought that they were there to infiltrate your mind. Find out your secrets, like it was about strength of the mind. Those that didn't have will power were infiltrated and exposed almost immediately, while those with tenacity weren't so easy to overcome. I really don't know why I thought like that." Justin stared out the passenger window as they went along.

Ben didn't seem to be paying attention to anything that Justin was saying. His was growing more serious and his jaw seemed to clench much more tightly. Every now and then, he would gaze out the driver window and look at his blind spot. More however was his frequent glances in the rear view mirror and side mirrors of the car. He seemed to speed up more.

"But now I see that it really helps a lot. It helps me understand myself better. I feel less burdened. I don't know how to explain it. I am glad I started going, you know."

Justin faces Ben.

He notices Ben spaced out look and asks.

"Have you been listening to what I am sayin'? Are you sure everythin' is ok?" Justin sounded worried.

Ben kept staring at his blind spot, and when he checks the rear view mirror, he notices Justin staring at him.

"What?" Ben swallows hard. "Sorry, man. I am glad things are going good. I am really happy for you."

Ben hopes these words were appropriate, because he really wasn't paying any attention to what Justin was saying. His mind was in a totally different place. He kept thinking about the Grays and his parents. How long has this been going on? Why did they never tell him the truth? More importantly, did his parents know? Ben was conflicted. This was all he could think about. What about Claire? Would she ever believe him if he told her? He had to convince her somehow. The evidence was all in the barn and it all had to do with what he uncovered in London. He stared out the window again.

Justin seemed satisfied with what Ben said. Ben must just be hot, because it really was a scorcher outside. He was on a high from his meeting and just wanted to share it with his friend. So he continued.

ك

"What is it about your childhood that you remember the most?" She removes her speckles and lets it hang from the string around her neck. Today she was dressed warmly in a cream jersey and white comfy pants. She wore ankle length boots. Her hair was shorter than when he last saw her, just touching her shoulders.

Justin was dressed in a sweatpants and black shirt. His sweater was on his lap. He was wearing worn black sneakers. He was staring at the ceiling before he answered.

"All I remember was that I was alone. I used to play by myself and pretend I was one of the heroes in the cartoons I liked to watch. I wanted to believe that I had powers to do great things. Sometimes I would even dress up, like put a towel around my neck and pretend it was a cape and I was able to fly. Umph," he giggles softly.

She made notes on her notepad and continued to listen intently.

"I had no friends." He said that without remorse or regret. It was just a fact.

He ponders a bit, then continues.

"I was bullied a lot. Was always called faggot."

He notices her write down the word FAGGOT all in capital letters. He must have emphasized the word a bit too much or perhaps she was psychoanalysing him. He didn't mind. He was here to be helped. And he wasn't going to shy away from speaking his mind. Telling her the truth.

When he decided that he was going to start therapy, he promised that he would not keep things from his therapist and that he would be brave to speak about what was hard. So far, he kept to his commitment. She made it easier too. She was nice.

"Why do you think they called you that?" She puts her spectacle temple tip into her mouth and eyes him curiously.

"I don't know. They made fun of the way I walked and the way I talked. I was very much like a girl."

"I find that hard to believe. You don't seem effeminate. Your voice is deep and manly." She stares him up and down.

"I unlearned these girly things I used to do. I just wanted it all to stop. You have no idea what it is like to have people make fun of you every second of every day. It was really bad. I hated being alive. Every day I just wished I could die. Until one day, when my brother gave me an ashamed look when we started a new school and were with new friends," he throws up quotation hand gestures as he says new friends, "and that's when I decided. I was gonna start walking differently and I am going to stop talking." He sounded less sure of himself as he said that. "All because I didn't want my brother to look at me like that. He made me feel like I was something despicable. I thought he hated me."

"And did he, hate you? Did he ever say that he did?"

"Not in so many words. No. But he did beat me a lot. He said he was trying to make me a man. Perhaps that was true, but at the time of being beaten into a man, it certainly only felt like I embarrassed him and he wanted nothing but to be rid of me. I really felt that he didn't like me. Not even a little. I mean, he was the one that bullied me the most. One day, he called his friends. They..." he sighs. He remembers.

"Let's just say, he really tortured me good. I didn't feel loved at all."

ك

Justin leaves her office. He notices that she heads into the office, but she didn't go in. She turns, comes out and watches him walk away. He tries hard to remain composed. It was clear that she was checking whether he was swaying his hips. He felt like laughing as he kept his composure and rushes to the elevator. Ben must be waiting.

Ben was outside in his car. He was always punctual. That was something Justin appreciated. He could always rely on Ben. He was his best friend, if not only friend. He wondered what he would do without him. Something was up with Ben lately though, but he couldn't be sure what.

"I appreciate you doing this for me, Ben," Justin says as he gets in and buckles up. "I know you have things to do."

Ben just nods his head and starts the car and pulls away. "How was your session?" He kept staring in the rear view mirror as he said that.

"It was ok, I guess. We talked a bit more about when I was a kid, the times that I was bullied." He stares out the window and just drifts off in thought.

Ben didn't notice. He was too concerned with the car behind them. For some reason he thought the car was following them. It was a grey van with dark windows. The number plate just said BigB. He felt a strange feeling it was big brother and they were watching him. He speeds up more and tries to lose them.

"What's the hurry?" Asks Justin concerned. He was holding tightly to the dashboard.

Ben looks in the rear view mirror. The car was gone. He sighs.

"Nothing, just tired. Want to get home. It has been a long day." He tries his best to sound normal. Whatever that was. Things haven't been normal for a while now. He wasn't sure what to make of all this. He stumbled upon something and he was sure that it had something to do with Knee Deep. What was worse is that she didn't believe him. She moved out and said she needs her space. She wasn't ready. She always said that. And this, she couldn't deal with. She said that she would help him get clean, but if he went back to those things, she would move out. She couldn't deal with that too.

"Today was a good day. The session was cathartic, "Justin interrupts Ben's thoughts. "I really think this is helping me a lot. I was never a supporter of therapy, but I can see it is helping me."

"Talking helps." Ben acknowledges what he says, but he was still paranoid. He kept staring in all the mirrors.

"Yeah, it does. But it is more than that. It is more that someone else is giving you a look at yourself. They making sense of who you are to yourself, because you are too immersed in yourself to see what is what." He stares at Ben. "Do you understand, Ben?" Justin stares at him.

After a long silence, Ben realizes that Justin was talking to him.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"You sure you are okay, Ben? You really seem tense." Justin is concerned.

"Yeah, sorry, bro. I really just want to get home. I am glad this is working out for you. You deserve it. You are a special person and deserve good things." Ben smiles.

"Thanks, man." Justin smiles too. He stares at Ben. Then turns his head to the window and closes his eyes. He mutters something softly under his breath. He sighs deeply, opens his eyes, wipes away the tear that trickles from the corner of his right eye. He remains silent for the rest of the journey home.
The Believer

#ItShouldBeEasy

"It is weird," says Justin as he sits down. He was in a vest and knee length pants. Sweat was dripping down his face and neck. He rubs the sweat away with a cold, damp cloth and drapes it along the back of his neck. He takes a sip of the water he just brought from the kitchen. "It's weird how people's opinion on this topic is so different." He sighs.

"How so," she asks confused. She was sitting with her face right into the fan as it continued to spray cool mist into the air.

Justin gives her question some thought. Her wet hair and face brought a smile to his face. "You look absolutely hideous." He laughs.

She hits him in his side hard. "Watch your mouth or I'll fix it for you!" She glares at him.

He laughs more.

"Wish I had my camera. This is one of those candid moments." He mimics holding a camera and clicks with both his finger and some sound effects.

"I'll kill you if you ever do that to me." She sits back and eyes him with slit eyes.

He laughs and sits back too. He admires her. She was wearing a colorful spaghetti top and a white, wide-leg pants that reached to just below her knees. She was barefoot. He sighs and says.

"You know I would never do anything to hurt you, right." He swallows hard.

"Except expose me with these bangs and eyes that haven't rested for days, you mean?" She smirks and forms a kiss with her lips.

He looks down shyly.

"Come on. Tell me already." She relaxes and turns her face towards the fan more.

Justin sits back and gathers his thoughts. He starts.

"Firstly, people all say they believe, but I wonder if they really do believe, you know." He looks at her expectantly.

She opens her eyes and focuses on him.

"I mean, a Christian is really Christian because of the Bible and what it teaches, right? If not for the Bible, Christianity would not exist, isn't that true."

She nods her head. "I agree. You might believe in a God, yes, but without the Bible telling you about Jesus, there wouldn't be a Jesus. There wouldn't be Christianity. That is a fair statement."

Justin nods his head with more confidence.

"So, if your belief is purely based on the Bible, then why is it that some people are selective about which parts they accept and which parts they reject."

She sits up and ponders the statement he made. She looks at him and nods her head as if she understood his train of thought. Justin seems to grow in confidence because of her reaction.

"I mean, do we really believe if we only accept part of the message and not the whole message?" He takes a sip of water, wipes his neck and closes his eyes.

She sits up and stares at him for a bit. He looked handsome with his brown hair all wet. His skin glistened from the sweat. She didn't know what to expect or even what this meant. She sighs and says.

"So, what are you saying?"

Justin opens his eyes. He meets hers and just stares into them for moment. They seemed bigger than normal, more apparent. It must be because her hair was back. They appeared almost red. He could never really place her. Sometimes she looked as if she was Indian, other times she seemed a bit Asian. Then there were times she just plain looked American with Welsh ancestors. It was all to do with her eyes and the parts of it. He really admired her. He focuses and says.

"I just mean, do we really believe full heartedly if we are selective of which parts we believe in? And if there are parts we do not accept, perhaps even reject, what are we then saying about the Bible?"

She maintains eye contact and nods her head.

"You mean to say, are we then really accepting it as the true word from God, or are we admitting that parts have been altered..."

"And are we then really convinced that any of it is real, if we can admit that some parts have been altered." He interrupts, but he acknowledges what she says.

"Yes, agreed." She sits up and cracks her neck and massages her neck and shoulder with her right hand.

"I still don't get what you are trying to get at though." She eyes him expectantly.

He sighs.

"What I mean is. My therapist claims to be a Christian woman. I mean I specifically made sure that I was treated by a Christian woman, because for me this has as much to with my faith, as it has do to with my psychological and mental wellbeing." He looks at her for reassurance and understanding.

"I get it. And now?" She was curious.

"Well, now she is on about the book just being some guidance among many books that guides us," he rolls his eyes in disagreement, "and she goes as far to say that today the constitution guides us." He shakes his head adamantly.

She looks at him and smiles.

"Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth." She tries to cheer him up.

He smiles.

"It is just, for me, it is not like that. I believe in the whole message. I believe in what it says. So how can I accept what she says, if she does not share my convictions?" Justin doesn't seem to be asking the question of her, but rather seems as if it was an internal dialogue that he was having with himself.

They both sit in silence for a while.

A hot breeze came in from the space between the floor and the door. The fan brought no relief against it. The weather was strange. That was for sure. If they didn't believe any different, they would agree that it was nearing Judgment day and that these were a sign of the times.

ك

"Have you thought about what I said?" asks his therapist as he finishes telling her about the past month, his sessions were now longer apart.

"I have, but I am still sticking to my conviction."

She nods, writes something down and then puts her notepad down and hunches closer to him.

"I must tell you that all men and women have equal chance of being attracted to men or to women. The only thing is, which of these are triggered first and at what age. You tend to be attracted to men, because you were molested from so young. You were five. And more, you were not hurt as such, but loved the person that was doing this to you. So not only were you sexually aroused by these men, but they were people you trusted. That made it worse on you and this is the consequence of that."

He sighs. It was as if he was somehow relieved to hear this.

"So, am I right to say that I was not born this way?"

She nods her head.

"It is like I say, we all can go whichever way, but what is prompted first, is what will become the main interest. I for instance find women attractive too. I can see that they are beautiful. But I wouldn't want to go and be with them, because that is not what my body wants. I do not want to be pleased by women. In your case you want to be pleased by men, 'cause that is what you are used to from going through what you did."

Justin sighs and asks.

"Is it then wrong for me to want to be with a woman? Because I believe that is what God wants?"

The Resistance

#Children

We had another Truthers meeting today. Everyone had something to share. I just listened. I didn't know what to make of it all. It was all and all a very sad day. I had to excuse myself, just to get away. I didn't want them to see my tears. I didn't want them to see me that way. I tell you. Today was only a sad day.

Griffin spoke a lot about hurricane Irma. The dude is convinced it was not a natural disaster. He insists that it was HAARP that was used to conjure it up. He says all these very heavy storms that has been hitting the US since Katrina, even way before, was all cooked up and we are none the wiser. He says it made him sick to his stomach when he heard that so many celebrities were answering phones for pledges and donations in aid of the victims. He is convinced they are all in on it.

I don't know.

Isn't nature in control of the weather?

Isn't God in control of it?

If it is humans doing this to us, then I pray that they will stop doing this. That they stop hurting us like this. And if, like she says, God is in control of this, may He forgive us. 'Cause we obviously did something wrong for Him to let this happen to us.

I remember that text she gave me. It said no one is burdened with more than they can bear. We are rewarded for the good we do and we are punished for the evil we do. And He can do as He wants.

He is Just.

I really don't know.

What Griffin sad really hit me hard. It was more that he lost faith in us. He lost faith in our country. In what we stand for and what we believe. And coming from Griffin, that is saying a lot, 'cause he really loves this place. You never see him without those suspenders with the patriotic colors. He would die fighting for this place. When I went outside, the US flag hung limply in half mast on the pole outside. He really feels for everyone.

I could see that he was really sad as he spoke. This HAARP business has him really upset. But he believes that there is nothing he can do. Just rant on and on about it. No one will listen to him. He's just another crack pot. That needs to go to the looney bin. Maybe he needs to get some of that electroshock therapy that Embeth was on about to set him right.

That upset me even more. What Embeth said. Especially about Kanye. Don't know why I suddenly feel this way about the dude, but no one deserves that to be done to them. I still find it all so hard to believe. But geeze, can they all really be wrong.

I mean, look at the way he looks suddenly. All vacant like. Dude always had such a great smile and a shine to his face. Now he's just blonde and not there. It's sad really. It really is just plain sad. And then what she said about his kids. May God protect them. It really is just sad.

Man, today was just a sad day.

When she mentioned Britney, I just had to leave the room. I love her so much. It hurts me to hear that she was hurt. Really badly hurt. Hurt so much so that she can never be ok again. And for people to talk about all this with such straight faces. Does it register with them what they are saying? Or have they just become so desensitized by it all that it doesn't faze them anymore? I know I couldn't say those things and keep a straight face. I mean I had to run out and cry. It broke me, again. I have a soft spot for her. I just love her. I really do.

The only one always near tears, but still so strong, is Madison. She always starts off with a prayer for those that got hurt and killed by whatever 'terrorist attack' she was about to debunk. She really is sincere. This time she spoke about Manchester. I didn't want to get into all that. It just brought back sad memories of that poor girl from the Voice that was shot by a fan. Or should I say 'shot by a fan', 'cause Embeth even debunked that one. What really upset me about it and Madison more, was that, once again, just like then, the celebs came and started asking for donations or put on a show, to bring everyone together. Good triumphs over evil. She's convinced too that they knew about it all and then they come and do stuff like that.

That makes me feel even worse.

But as Embeth says, they are all out of control, or like Britney said "too in control". They are not themselves. If you believe Embeth, then they are mind control slaves, programmed through ritual abuse and torture, and never without the drugs and electricity. They are never without their handlers and these make sure they do their last bidding. If they are not mind controlled, then they are possessed. Who is too blame for this is not quite clear. Either they sacrifice someone and allow this demonic force to enter them or the thing is forced into them. Like that strange movie where the guy took those drugs and suddenly he saw something that was after him. The one where they say the whole moon landing was a hoax just to get the Russians to waste all their money.

What is really the truth.

Flo is still on about us being spied on by the government. He says that PRISM is real and that that is just one of the things they use to spy on us. All our social networks are but mere in your face tell tales that they are watching you. Every now and then you get a Whatsapp warning that the cops can now use things you say against you, so be careful not to say too much on social media. They are monitoring the lines. It really doesn't get more in your face than that.

He is however more convinced that they literally start harassing you. They create dummy accounts and troll your posts. He is convinced that they do that to him a lot. They either leave bad comments or they quite simply call him 'crazy and deranged'. What's more is that he believes that many of the followers of celebs on Twitter, Instagram or whatever, are not all real people. He was even more convinced when they actually showed us in Homeland that there are hundreds of people dedicated to creating these fake people. Fake accounts. They use these fake accounts to influence votes, influence public opinion or make a celeb seem really popular. It really is all very disturbing. He even believes that celebs themselves create fake accounts and post 'rare songs' or 'rare pictures'. Makes sense really. Where would a mere fan get these 'rare' things? What's more intriguing was when there was this whole 'Rapture' theme going around, some celebrities lost millions of fans in seconds. They called it the 'Twitter Rapture'. Flo is convinced they simply deleted the dummy accounts.

When I sit and reflect on this, I really feel that we really live in a very sad reality.

During the rapture theme, many people around the world, according to what Flo calls 'fake news', went missing. And many people started believing that it was really nearing the end of times. And if you follow the theme now, it is time for the second coming and world war x. Jesus and Armageddon. And with all these earthquakes, landslides, hurricanes, volcanoes, sea life dying, birds falling dead from the sky and strange trumpet noises being heard around the globe, it would really seem as if it is nearing the end. All are signs of the times. And where Flo agrees with Griffin about HAARP is that they are the ones pushing this agenda and doing all these things themselves, because they want the anti-Christ to come. And of course, those that are blind, the poor sheeple, will be so desperate for a savior that they will believe him and accept him as the messiah. Even this fake messiah is all of their doing, their conjuring, and their magic and cloning and whatever other voodoo they do.

Drew was a bit erratic again. He really needs to lay off the gardenin' or whatever he was doing. But at least he was coherent. Smiling a lot and enjoying the great spread courtesy of our own Master Chef. It was really delightful. I especially liked the fish treats. I didn't think fish could ever melt in my mouth, let alone end up in my mouth. I prefer to eat meat. But that fish was heavenly. Maybe I can try some hot fish tamale. I love me a hot meaty tamale. Extra jalapenos, muchas gracias, amigo. Savor it. Slowly. Um um um. I'm suddenly hungry. But hey, let's focus on the clones. Back to Drew. Like I said, even Drew spoke and he was at least coherent. Dude was smiling a lot. He does like to charm the ladies. Anyway, he said that he really doesn't think that the mind control and possession is real at all. He rather believes that they are all clones. He says that the contract the celebs sign is not selling their soul, but rather selling their clone to be used for whatever the buyers wanted. Whether that was simply to abuse as they see fit, or to parade in front of the masses to influence them, it really didn't matter. The celeb is therefore not famous, but rather their clone is. He believes cloning is so much so in our face that they might even be moving among us and we wouldn't know the difference, and after what Donald told the world, he is even more convinced. I really don't know about Donald. He sounds a bit sketchy, his reason for staying alive just sounds ludicrous. But hey, we don't get any truth except what they allow. So I believe Donald is telling us the truth, but he is kept alive "cause he is protected and valuable to them" I don't. No.

I think he is just another one being controlled and the reason he gave us for not being killed, is what they use to have him be discredited. Telling us the truth, but at the same time that silly story and we just say it is the rantings of another crazy person. 'Crazy and deranged'.

Don't know how I feel about Drew's convictions. I do however believe that there are human clones. Whether the cloning centers are real though? I don't know. But Britney said it in Mona Lisa and she hinted at it in her Break the ice animated music video, must be some truth to it. Perhaps the clone is only used for videos and movies though and the real celeb appears in public. Maybe that is why celebs look much more airbrushed in videos and photo shopped on magazine and album covers. Maybe the clone is always in shape and that is why they appear different from being seen in public and then appearing on the cover of a magazine. All this is very disturbing to say the least. I watched Orphan Black and I am convinced that several clones are portraying the different characters and not one person portraying all of them. Guess that means that I believe what Drew says. Go figure. He is a real character. Our own local celebrity. Makes me wonder about him. Is he perhaps cloned too? It just can't be true.

But the clones remain disturbing. That lady that says she was a programmed assassin, says that she was disturbed by watching Orphan Black, because it was filtering such a lot of truth to the sheeple, it made her uncomfortable, but we're all to asleep to see the facts and rather accept it as fiction. We are all "hey, these writers are creative" not realizing that they are merely writing or documenting things that are really going on. And as always the truth is in plain sight. I feel sad for that woman. Listening to her talk about her deprogramming was hard to hear. I am sure many doesn't believe her either, because it is just so terrible, one does not want to believe that such things are being done to people. She speaks of the electroshock therapy, coming in and out of consciousness, wetting herself and this while men were hovering around her. Some busy with her, others just going about work, unfazed by the naked person lying in her own urine on the floor. Shame man. When I think how people speak of MK Ultra and them sounding so desensitized and hearing this lady speak of her own experiences, I am left utterly disturbed and sad. I don't even know what to say. I hope what they say is perhaps true that when the people are shattered, they go off to some happy dream place and are unaware of what is going on.

But now that I think about it, perhaps they do sink into the floor and are fully aware of what is going on and are viewers to what their bodies are doing but unable to do anything, just like they reveal to us in Get Out. Another disturbing movie.

Hey, it was a sad day. But what can I say. I hope and yes, I pray, that perhaps they are in some special place, where God keeps them safe.

Heartbreaker

#WhereAreYouNow #LoveYourself #WhatDoYouMean #WeAre #Purpose

#YouAndMe #Sorry

Trust

#AllThatMatters

While he waits for his dinosaur of a computer to start up, he looks at the pictures he was able to get from the drone. They were very clear pictures, but unfortunately something about the girl always made her face blur, so you could never really see her clearly. It was only her. The trees in the background were crisp. You could literally see the veins on the leaves. Even the fur on the cat she was holding was bushy and you could see the patterns of the ginger clearly. The cat had very striking green eyes.

But the girl was a big blur.

He picks up the note he received, banging the computer tower when the fan starts making a squeaky noise.

He reads.

Kimberly Amber-Jane.

This girl has to be her. The dark hair, the striking features of the face. Even with the blur he couldn't miss those cheek bones, the defined brow.

If only he could get close. Perhaps it was time to approach her. Dare he do that? What if they made her? What if they made him?

He puts the note down as the computer is finally booted and he is able to access his emails.

He would have to create a new account. He can't be using the same account for more than once. He wonders if the virtual incognito machine is still undetectable as he browses through the latest mail, only two messages. Welcome to yahoo and a word from the team.

Nothing from him.

Disappointed he starts to compose an email.

Bro

I miss you.

I don't know what to say. It is hard for me to live like this. One minute I am sure it is all real. The next, I doubt it all. I am convinced that something is up, but perhaps it is all just in my head. Is he really dead? My gut tells me no. Everything points to the fact that he is not. Perhaps that dude is right. Perhaps the stage is just that. A veil put in front of our eyes. She makes so much sense, it is uncanny. This life is nothing but an illusion.

Are you just another part of that illusion? Trying to lure me away from the reality?

Or are you and I what I think we are? I am here. As long as He wills, I will be here. I am trying to believe, but you know it is hard for me. I have never believed. Perhaps it is time that I do.

It really overwhelms me. Am I really that important to you?

I'm stuck in the moment.

Let's not lose who we are. If we are going to do this, let's stay true to who we are. Lately I have been doing good. I am grateful for that. I really am. But I feel like I am falling again. I don't know why I keep letting it happen to me. I know no good can ever come of it. But I don't know how to stop it. I just hope I don't end up hurting again. I don't want to lose myself again. I don't want to lose who we are.

How can I trust you? How can I trust any of you? As far as I am concerned, this is probably all in my head. But how can it be when things are happening outside of myself? Others can see what I see, but they just don't understand it as I understand it. I want to trust you. I really do. Like I said.

I do.

How someone can love someone they have never met, is something that boggles my mind even more. But here I am, feeling a strange connection with you. I cared for you, and clearly, even more than I cared for even myself, before you even knew I did. Long before.

Is that love?

Can love really be something that is there without us having to first like, then like more, until it evolves to love? Or is love simply there and we fall in love with it? She makes me want to believe that there is love inside of us that connects us all. We are all one.

Just as He is one.

I trust her. I want to trust you too. But I am not there yet. I don't trust any of you and that is a good truth. If you are not yourselves, then how can anything you say be true? I want to trust in Him too. I almost want to say, I do.

Perhaps one day. One beautiful day. I will too. Trust. You.

There is no need to be sorry, bro. You didn't do anything wrong.

I chose this. So, if anyone is to blame, it is me. For what it is worth, thanks. And if I could turn back the hands of time, I would still do the same. In spite of all the negative things that have transpired, greater things have come to be. She is right.

God does not let our sincere good deeds go to waste.

No need to be sorry.

It was all my own foolishness and ignorance of the truth.

Truly, We did offer Al-Amanah (the trust or moral responsibility or honesty and all the duties which Allah has ordained) to the heavens and the earth, and the mountains, but they declined to bear it and were afraid of it (i.e. afraid of Allah's Torment). But man bore it. Verily, he was unjust (to himself) and ignorant (of its results).

Surah Al-Ahzab (33:72)

Interpretation of meaning by Muhsin Khan & Muhammad al-Hilali

I have been reflecting a lot on what you said. It's amazing how you have crept into my head.

Become a part of my life.

Connection.

It is real.

Even in my dreams, we are like friends that got used to each other. Last dream I had, we were in the same space, not talking to each other, but each aware of the other's presence, communicating without words.

Comfortable.

Yes, I still dream about you. I don't know how to explain what has been going on, all I know is that it can't all be some accident.

Coincidence.

We are connected. I feel it more and more. That's why these words hit hard.

Love yourself.

I always thought I did. But upon reflecting, it is clear that I don't. Not really. It is quite clear that others see it too, otherwise why has it become such a theme suddenly. I mean, you said it. Friends and family have said it. And most not as if it was some advice, but more as if the lack of it was observed and I am instructed. Dare I say that perhaps I am being guided?

She says that He guides us.

All of us.

Believers and non-believers.

If we are heading towards destruction it is Him that is guiding us towards the destruction because of our disbelief and if we believe, He guides us towards goodness and ease. I want to believe what she says, I do.

We sent not an apostle except (to teach) in the language of his (own) people, in order to make (things) clear to them. Now Allah leaves straying those whom He pleases and guides whom He pleases: and He is Exalted in power, full of Wisdom.

Surah Ibrahim (Abraham) 14:4

I still dream about you and even her.

Whenever I dream of you, I don't want to wake up. I just want to be near you. Is that really so bad? Even if it is only a dream. Perhaps our souls are hanging out. Do you think that the soul can do that?

The first time I became aware of what was going on, I was really scared. And I mean scared. This scared was not like fear for my life, but more a fear of what the consequences might be, for my soul. I felt utterly exposed. Like I was really seen. It is an unnerving feeling. I remember crying for hours. When I was all bawled out and empty, I wanted to see again.

It was still there.

Whatever it was, was making fun of the fact that I had blue circles around my eyes from bawling like a girl. That made me feel even worse. I understood that whatever it was had no sympathy, didn't care. It lacked mercy, was malicious and nasty.

Malevolent.

It really unnerved me. But that was not what scared me. What scared me was what did I do to make this thing focus on me? Did I do something wrong? I am still not sure. It only seemed to focus on my sins, pointing them out. So, my fear was not for this thing, but rather something else. Who else could know me so intricately?

I was scared.

As always, I turned to the gardenin' and the bottle. I was really depressed. I felt so alone. Lying on the floor drunk and defeated.

"When you broke down, I didn't leave you..." is that true?

"I was by your side..." are you for real?

I don't know. I want to believe what you say. I want to trust that you need me. But I don't know. Beautiful is both beautiful and scary.

Honestly.

I don't think she has ever looked more beautiful, but at the same time she is the scariest thing I have ever seen. The light, shadowed by the dark.

The ominous "STOP".

All this is really freaky. I am scared to show my face again, 'cause I am not sure what I am dealing with. What is sad is that through Beautiful, I can see a truth. You all are really not in control. You really don't even write your own stuff. I thought at least that much was yours. But it is not.

Thirsty was an eye opener.

It makes me sad to think about. Where are you now? I want to say I am here. I am here. I am here for you. Thank you for being by my side. Whatever that means. Thanks for praying when I didn't. How can I doubt that you are watching, when the words all ring so true to me?

Can I really be the one you need the most?

If anyone withdraws himself from remembrance of (Allah) Most Gracious, We appoint for him an evil one, to be an intimate companion to him.

Surah Az-Zukhruf (The Ornaments of Gold) 43:36

"Necklace baby let me hang around you..."

You and Me - Will.I.Am ft. Justin Bieber

I hope to hear from you soon, bro.

I look forward to your calls.

I miss you, bro.

Love Cody

#AllThatMatters

"Mee-eeee a-and Mrs Mrs Jones, Mrs Jones, Mrs Jooooones... we got a thingggg going... on..."

He dances in front of her. Belly exposed. Bubbly in his hand.

"Stop it!" She blushes. "The neighbors will hear!" She hides her face with her scarf.

He pulls it gently from her face.

"Well, it's time for us to be leaving...and it hurts so much, it hurts so much inside and now she'll go her way, I'll go mine..." He puts down his champagne glass and goes on his knees in front of her.

"But tomorrow we'll meet at the same place, the same time," He takes her face in both his hands, "Me and Mrs Mrs Jooones, Mrs Jones, Mrs Jones." He kisses her gently on her lips.

She sighs and takes his face in both her hands.

"Merry Christmas, dear." She runs her fingers through his grey hair and pats him softly on his cheek.

"Still my one and only, Mr Jones." Warm smile radiates from her gray-green eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs Jones." He kisses her again. Gets up from the thick carpet with a bit of an effort and takes a seat next to his wife, takes her hand in his and kisses it.

"Still as beautiful as the day I met you, honey." He puts her hand in his lap and pulls her in. She rests her head against his chest. He kisses her locks of white-grey hair. She had it specially permed for Christmas.

"How was the show?

He looks at his champagne glass. Stares at the bubbles as it rises to the top.

He takes it in his hand a takes a sip.

"How about we open the real champagne? You know, the one that goes straight to the head."

He laughs softly.

"Like when we were younger? Get tipsy you mean?" She laughs too. Sits up straight and rubs his left cheek.

"Not with your blood pressure and diabetes, and all else that's starting to go. Let's enjoy the sparkling juice. It's not so bad."

She kisses him, rests her head on his chest.

He sighs.

Then starts.

"The show was great. Everyone did their best. No hassles. Kimberly was definitely..."

He stops.

Stares off into space.

"Kimberly Amber-Jane..." He says softly, almost like he was talking to himself.

He puts down his glass.

Sarah sits up again and looks at him intently.

"What, Bob? What happened?"

He looks into her eyes.

"Nothing, sweet Sarah."

He looks down.

She scans his face, run her fingers along his gray whiskers, then his moustache.

She cups his chin.

"Tell me, dear. What's got you like this? Is it the reason you want to drink?"

She sits back, throws her red shawl over her shoulder and starts playing with one of the tassels.

"I don't know, sweet face. Can't go on like this. That's all, love."

He sighs again.

Takes another sip of his sparkling juice.

"We can't stop now, old boy. We have to see this through. It will all be over soon."

She smirks.

"Soonest."

He looks into her eyes.

"I know, Sarah-shakes. But..."

He breathes in deep.

Starts coughing uncontrollably and reaches for his inhaler.

Takes a few puffs.

"What, Bob? Tell me. I'll understand." She returns his worried gaze.

Seizes playing with the tassel and clasps her hands on her lap.

"I can't any more, she... doesn't deserve it."

"You've gone soft, Bob. I understand what you're saying. But we can't back down now."

She reaches for his hand and squeezes it softly.

"It will all be..."

"Over... soonest... I heard you, dear."

He kisses her hand.

"The lie is eating away at me, Sarah. That's all."

They both sigh.

"She does adore you... I can see why it pains you so."

"She doesn't deserve it, my sweet. None of it."

"Does any of us?" Sarah stares off into space.

He does the same.

"She's still young. We lived our lives. That's the difference."

He sighs.

She smiles.

Then frowns.

"What do you intend to do?"

He focuses on her eyes.

Tries to smile.

"Nothing. Continue lying to her I suppose. What other choice do I have, sweet Sarah?"

"That or death. Yours and mine. They'll... without you... I'll wither away... quicker."

She straightens up. Sits more to the edge of the sofa.

"Fine mess this all is."

"You said it, love."

He shakes his head.

"A fine mess."
Target

#Magic

Peter-John looks around.

The place doesn't look familiar.

A light skinned, African-American man, dressed in sweat pants and a red T-shirt, walks beside him down a long corridor.

The walls looked metallic, faint neon-lights flickering; guiding them all the way to a big glass door.

It opens automatically.

They enter a dark room. Pillars stood all over the floor. They walk to the center of the room. Stop at a desk and a single chair.

Peter-John looks at it confused.

The table and chair seems to be hovering a few inches off the floor; blue light glowing from within the floor, beneath it.

The man tries to put his arm around his neck. Peter-John ducks.

"Relax, dude. It's only me."

The man looks at him surprised. He pulls his hand back, strokes it across his peroxide do and goes to stand next to the table.

"What do you mean? I don't know you."

He looks the man up and down.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

"Dude, it's me. I have been your back-up dancer since forever."

He shakes his head.

"Mr X would like you to see something."

"Who is Mr X?" Peter-John more confused than before.

"That is not your concern. Suffice it to say, he has a keen interest in you."

This voice came from behind one of the pillars that stood more to the left of the room.

She comes closer and extends her hand towards him.

"I'm Bri."

Peter-John looks at the tall, African-American woman, hair short on her head. She was dressed in a red dress.

He shakes her hand.

"So, you are Peter-John." She wasn't asking.

She takes a handheld mirror from the table.

"Please, sit." She gestures to the chair.

Hesitantly, Peter-John sits down. The man goes to stand next to the woman. He smiles.

She hands him the mirror. Peter-John takes it from her; unsure.

"You do know what to do with a mirror, right." She smiles, lips red, eyes dark.

Slowly Peter-John lifts the mirror to his face.

An African-American man stared back at him. Peter-John touches his face. The face in the mirror does the same.

"What have you done to me?!" He shouts out loud.

"Why am I a black man? What is going on?!"

Peter-John looks at them quick, then focuses on the mirror again.

"Please, who are you? Where am I? What have you done to me?!" He panics.

They both smile coyly. They were enjoying it.

"Relax."

She walks to the opposite side of the table and faces him. Picks a book off the table and flips the pages open in-front of him.

Peter-John was now more confused than ever.

"What does that mean? What is going on? What have you done to me?!"

He looks back at the panicked face in the mirror then back at her.

She smiles; satisfied.

All goes dark.

Blank Page
As always, I couldn't have written this story without inspiration and help from others. I thank you and appreciate you. May Allah bless you abundantly.

Khaleel

Alhamdulilah

Performed by Opick ft. Amanda

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O6SeTT17RTs&list=PLW2Vepmq4GDi4cDE9cCHhLL4VEMbu18u_&index=1

Uprising

Written by Matthew Bellamy

Performed by Muse

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HYRGjMSUoU8>

Stuck in the moment

Written by Jonathan Yip, Jeremy Reeves, Ray Romulus, Heather Bright, Justin Bieber

Performed by Justin Bieber

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBhy5N1GpRs>

Ooh La La

Written by Lukasz Gottwald, Joshua Coleman, Henry Walter, Bonnie McKee, Jacob Kasher Hindlin, Lola Blanc, Fransisca Hall

Performed by Britney Spears

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8x-gPciJRH8>

No Air

Written by James Fauntleroy II, Erik "Blu2th" Griggs, Harvey Mason Jr., Damon Thomas, Steve Russell

Performed by Chris Brown and Jordin Sparks

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=61HRdUcJtXQ>

Close my eyes

Written by Mariah Carey, Walter Afanasieff

Performed by Mariah Carey

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=70j7qXqjFnI>

You and me

Performed by Will.I.Am ft. Justin Bieber

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aNOtFNveKto>

Me and Mrs Jones

Written by Kenny Gamble, Leon Huff, Cary Gilbert

Performed by Billy Paul

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EFIOYizNBhc>

Emily Gems – joyful crystals & gemstones

Retrieved from crystal-cure.com (2016)

https://crystal-cure.com/article-gemstone-spheres.html

African-American Slang Dictionary

Mr Doody (2016, 2017)

 https://www.scribd.com/doc/16522343/African-Americans-Slang-Dictionary

Bukhari, Muslim, Malik, Dawud Hadith Collection.

Imaan Star (2006, April 24)

Retrieved from Imaan Star:

http://www.imaanstar.com/hadith.php

Surah Al-Kahf (The Cave).

Dar-us_Salam (2017, March 27)

Retrieved from www.noblequran.com:

http://www.noblequran.com/translation/surah18.html

Surah Al-Kahf (The Cave)

Recorded by A. A. Sudais (2010)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZPdOh6uITc

The Scholar Ka'b al-Ahbar's dua

Maariful Quran Volume 1 (English)

Page 272

Blank page

We had a bit of rain. We stayed in the hotel to the left.

Road back to the hotel. It was always busy. Hectic. 

Between Safa and Marwa. I thought there would be sand and rocks, but no, modern spoil-ations. 

The Kabaa in ihram (Black and White)

Notice the many levels and all full of people.

We were about 2 million pilgrims

These were taken from Jabal Nur. The mountain where the Prophet (peace be upon him) first received revelation

Mina

Was sad to see us all packed up. Didn't want to leave.

Mount Rahma on Arafat

September 11th , 2016 – on Arafat

Muzdalifah

Jamarat – stoning of the devil

Aisha Mosque, Azizia. We stayed in hostel opposite it. Where pic is taken from.

Near well where many Prophets drank water – Near Badr

Lots of free food courtesy of the King by Allah's grace and permission

I never saw so many dates in my life

Where Abraham was to sacrifice his son

As Allah wills

Khaleel
