One Prayer, One Miracle

[adamc2000 1385]

Troubled fields

 

Amin awoke to the soft light of morning filtering through the modest windows of his newly purchased home in Stirland. Every coin he had saved in Alba, every trade and bargain struck, had gone into this home, a roof over his head, however humble. Yet his purse was nearly empty, and business in Alba had slowed like the old oxen in the fields. His belly was light, his sleep heavier than it should’ve been.

 

He rose without complaint.

 

Stepping outside, he was greeted by green pastures kissed with dew, but also by the quiet ruins of his little farm, crops trampled, feathers scattered, the faint prints of some unknown creature etched into the soft dirt from the night before. He said nothing. He merely rolled up his sleeves.

His hands, rough from labor and leather, moved slowly as he cleared the broken fencing, gathered what remained of the grain sacks, and brushed the soil where seeds once lay hopeful. Still, he uttered no curse, no complaint. Only a whispered “Innā lillāhi wa innā ilayhi rājiʿūn” passed his lips.
 

 

This strange creature plagued not only his home but his neighbors, and soon it became the talk of many who reside in Stirland, many trying to ward it off to no avail, Amin learnt this the hard way as he checks the last part of his small farm plucking a few premature carrots, fearing another creature assault would cost him another month's of hard labor to ruin.

He walked to the nearby stream, cupped its cold water, and performed his wudu with calm precision. The dirt of the world was washed away, if not from his life, then at least from his limbs as water ran down his arms, cleansing them of any remaining dirt.

 

He returned to his home, to the edge of the field, standing beside an old oak tree that stretched out providing shade to weary travelers from the sun's heat. The wind was gentle, and the land was green, blessed with rain. Yet he knew that there was no one who could help his troubles.. exempt one... his parents always told him that in times of trouble, an earnest prayer will always be answered...

So he knelt beneath the shade of an oak tree, and the breeze carried the scent of fresh grass and earthy dirt. His hands tremble as he raises them to the heavens, palms open, heart heavy yet hopeful. His voice is low, sincere, the words flowing for his Lord alone.

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“Yā Allah, Al-Razzāq,
 

O Provider, O Sustainer of all of your creations, O He who sends rain to the thirsty earth and grain to the beak of every bird, I come before you, ya Rabb, not as one deserving, but as one in need.

 

I am your poor servant who walks humbly in the path of Imam Rashidun, your slave whom never went astray and followed your commandments since the times of your prophets, who taught us that sincerity in the heart weighs more than gold, and that one bite of blessed food is greater than a feast of pride.

 

Oh my lord, you are the most powerful and indeed the most merciful, none is worthy of you, and none compares to your will, for you do not need us, but we cannot survive without you!

 

You see me, O Allah, in this green land, where the grass grows thick and the trees bear fruit. Yet still, my stomach is hollow, and my flock is barren. I ask not for wealth nor title, but for that which brings sustenance and mercy...

 

A flock of chickens, O Allah. Not from the skies in fire and glory, no... just a small flock, fit for a servant. One that clucks in peace, that lays eggs I may eat or share with travelers and orphans. One that reminds me of Your mercy, in every feather, in every quiet peck at the earth.

 

If it is written in your qadr, let a hen wander into my field, perhaps lost, perhaps sent.

If not for me, then for the sake of the guests I feed, the children I teach, the neighbors I greet with dates and duʿā.

 

Let it be from you, and I shall call it Rizqah, and I will never waste a single blessing it gives.

 

O Allah, You test the patient, and You elevate the grateful. Let me be among them both. Send your mercy upon me and let me not be misguided or led astray!"
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He places his hands against his cheeks before lowering them slowly, pressing them to his chest. His gaze turns skyward once more, hoping that Allah will answer his prayers

And then... it happened.

 

A soft rustle. A flutter of feathers. A cluck unlike any other.

 

Two chickens wandered from the trees, their feathers clean and untouched by mud. They stepped forward cautiously... and laid an egg, A warm, glowing shell resting in the grass.

 

And before Amin could even rise, the egg cracked open. A chick, small, golden, and chirping, hatched beneath the green skies of Stirland.

 

Amin collapsed forward in sujud, his forehead pressed to the earth, his voice broken with tearful gratitude.

 

“Subḥānak yā Rabb... my Lord... You have answered me.”

He may be far from home of his bearing in foreign lands and empire strange in culture and faith to him, but Allah was with him this he knew...

 

[clearlynoko 201]

Ser Caspian pinches the bridge of his nose as he surveys yet another poor farmer's lost crops. It seems like few could escape these creatures and their blight upon the farms. He leans against his cane, shaking his head, and turns to his squire Harlow. "Go get me paper, quill, and ink from the forge. We'll take break in the tavern so I can write the report. Every day we grow closer to discovering what these damned things are."

[tadabug2000 4922]

Something stalked the night, leaving tracks of which can only alude to something large and four-legged. Should any dare risk a glance outside, brief glimpses would be bad, primarily of multiple jagged rows of teeth glinting in the darkness. It was not the only one, thrashing combat taking out nearby pillars, each more ravenous then the last.