Deus Misereatur: Silenced Sands

[Malocchio 983]

[Music]

 

“They never meant to hurt you, my child. They have trouble showing love…”

 

A familiar voice rang within the head of Sahárfajhari as she would depart from the room of her beloved, bony fingers lacing together in front of an unstable frame. Over twenty six strong-willed years, the Qalasheen woman had resisted every ounce of temptation within the world, willingly. Nothing ever made sense until now. Why was she so heavily punished by Allah when she refrained from all sins? She threw on a foreign outfit which had a loose scarf that had covered her hair and most of her face.

 

“Dei gratia, Deus misereatur.”

 

I’ll go to the Skies one day, just like Malik and Nafis will. I’m not worried. Why was Ahmad so cruel all my life, especially to mother and father? They provided for us all our lifetime, leaving father to spend tedious nights on the sea and mother at home, sewing and cooking without end. I remember I used to help her all the time, in the kitchen, preparing meals for the brothers who… cared less for their own family. It’s a rough life, I like to think. Allah must have something in store for me, sometime. I always tell myself this: It’ll get better one day.

 

Deserts winds brought up grains of sand into the emerald eyes of Sahárfajhari as she began her trek through the whistling environment, all in attempts to reach her destination. Yet this particular trip would take more than a few hours of travel-- it would take a total of three days and the desire of an aching heart.

 

“Culpae poenae par esto.”

 

I told Malik I was going to seek out Allah within the far sands but it all was a lie. This is the first time I’ve lied to my love within my lifetime but after this, it won’t even happen again. Beforehand, I got in a little… disagreement with my habibi but again, I told myself it’ll get better one day. That one day this Lorraine in my untainted skin would mean something, one day. I tell myself: It’ll get better one day.

 

----

 

“You’re a bad man, Ahmad. I know what you did to father!”

 

Sahárfajhari held a curved dagger to the throat of Ahmad; a slender and vindictive man of thirty years-- one who had remained for far too long, in the opinion of the distressed woman. Skeletal digits curled around the hilt of the cruel blade which still remained pressed against the neck of her brother without mercy, though gentle enough to refrain from drawing any blood. The man squirmed under his wroth sister, no signs of fear noticeable.

 

“Don’t be silly, dear sister. I’ve done nothing to father and you are knowledgeable of this. Use that head of yours, girl. I love you and I love our family, too.”

 

Mother always lied to us in attempts to protect us from harm’s way, I always thought to myself. Maybe, deep down inside, Ahmad wasn’t too bad of a man. Nobody's a Saint, for sure yet this doesn’t reverse what has already been done. Father was slain within his own household-- the one he worked to create. And by his own son, too. It was a terrible deed and Ahmad knows it. But he is oh-so-cruel to care. I’ll show him cruel.

 

“Credo quia absurdum est.”

 

“Don’t lie to me, Ahmad!”

 

Slowly, the once pious Qalasheen woman, pushed the thin blade of the dagger against the skin of her brother, her visage engraved with wroth and the true intent to kill. Ahmad’s neck would be lined with a subtle hint of a most unfamiliar malice that was brought upon him in form of the drawing of blood by his own blood relative...

 

Allah, guide me, for I am but a mere mortal and I know not of what I can accomplish within my time. I want to go to the Skies with Malik, Nafis… All those who mean the most to my being. I don’t want to be punished. I want to live a happy life, with you, my God and those who have steered from sin and held themselves close to my heart. I’m sorry, Allah. I can’t do it. I can’t kill him. I know you are the most true and you will take care of him, for me… I am a mortal and I wish to see you in the afterlife, living most happily alongside my beloved… I can’t do it. I'm sorry, most treasured. I cannot do it.

 

But she couldn’t.

 

Sahárfajhari shook her head in defeat, her digits uncurling around the handle of the dagger she wielded, allowing it to drop to the wooden floor. Ahmad gave a quiet sigh of relief as his sister had seemingly gave up on her attack and moved off his frame, taking a singular step from him. The man of awful deeds would remain on the floor, looking up to his sister, Emiress Sahárfajhari Kharadeen with a taunting, amused grin.

 

“I told you, dearest sister. You would never kill me. You are a coward.”

 

He seemed to think Sahárfajhari had refrained from harming him because of fear and simply being a coward. However, this was far from the reason she had stopped herself. The woman had much more in mind.

 

“Ahmad…” she’d speak in a reticent tone, cracking a meager, thin grin as she had done so.

 

“Allah will judge you. I, for one, will not.”

 

Ahmad Akirahm el-Abdulrashid gawked at his sister, whom normally was as docile and gutless for most of her twenty six years, in wholesome astonishment.

 

“Caelitus mihi vires. Deus misereatur.”

 

----

 

Edited October 15, 2015 by Malocchio

[Imam Faiz Kharadeen 3167]

Faiz Kharadeen would be waiting near the gates of the palace for the return of Sahar, having sent out a few -?--?--?- in secret to tail her and ensure her complete safety. 

 

As Sahar approaches the palace's main doors, he greets her appropriately with a smile "There is breakfast waiting for you in the dining room, enjoy yourself."

 

 

[Elad™ 560]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.