Jibreel’s Curse
By James Mullins
First Edition October 12th 2016
©2016 James Mullins
Editors: Lee Jenkins and Doug Cree
Published in association with Longinus Industries
All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
Jibreel looked down the path ahead of him. He held his hand against his forehead and squinted his eyes to try and protect them from the glare of the intense Arabian sun. The yellow orb’s fierce glare upon the land caused the air on the horizon to shimmer and dance. Can’t be much further now.” The journey through the barren lands and over the mountain pass that day had gone without incident. The slow clop, clop, clop, of his camel’s hooves and the faint whisper of wind were the only sounds that could be heard as he rode.
Jibreel continued riding for a time. Finally, he stopped and took a deep breath. The fragrance of flowers filled his nostrils. He paused, relishing the smell of the blooming flowers. He had been traveling all day from Mecca toward his family’s tents. The rains around Mount Hira had been plentiful that year, so he led his family to the base of that great mountain. They found a good spot for their herds to graze and raised their tents. The family’s herd of goats and sheep eagerly partook in the grasses.
Once the family had settled into their temporary home, Jibreel had taken some goat’s cheese and sheep’s wool to Mecca. He used them to trade for the spices his wife Sabella loved to use in her cooking. Jibreel closed his eyes and thought about Sabella the way she smelled, her soft raven black hair, and that way she looked at me sends my heart racing in anticipation of pleasures to come, “Bismillah, I am such a lucky man to be blessed with such a wife.”
The smell of blooming flowers washed over him a second time and he took a deep breath. At last, he could see the source, a small oasis at the base of the mountain pass he had been traversing most of the day. The surrounding hills had formed a natural bowl where the runoff from the meager winter rains had gathered to create a pool of water. Surrounding the pool was a small grove of palm trees, flowers, and soft grass. His Camel, eager to have a drink, increased its pace towards the pool.
Reaching the center of the oasis, Jibreel made a “Kee, Kee, Kee,” sound with his mouth. The camel snorted in displeasure at the delay but dutifully kneeled to the ground to allow Jibreel to dismount. He threw his left leg over the saddle and slid off the back of the beast. He turned, walked up to the pool and, drank from it using his hands. The camel snorted again in displeasure at being forced to wait while Jibreel drank from the pool. Jibreel smiled up at the animal, “Now, now, Qamar, you’ll get your chance.”
Jibreel stepped to the side and allowed Qamar to drink from the pool. He reached down and scratched the camel just behind the ears. The camel stopped drinking and moaned in pleasure. “See, much better now, eh?” He took a leather strap that was fastened to his saddle and hobbled Qamar. He then took a few dates from a saddle bag and ate them as the sun set behind the mountains to his immediate west.
Jibreel savored the sweet taste of the perfectly ripened dates. His hunger satisfied, Jibreel set to work on Qamar. First, he removed the saddle and set it on the ground. He then brushed Qamar’s fur where the saddle had rested. Finished caring for his camel, he laid down on the soft grasses and was fast asleep within minutes.
Jibreel felt something wet and gritty being dragged across his cheek. Without opening an eye, he swatted at the source of the irritation and tried to go back to sleep. He once again began to slip back into the gentle embrace of slumber when he felt the wetness again, “Qamar, cease this at once.”
Qamar ignored Jibreel’s protest and licked him on the cheek again, “All right, all right!” Jibreel muttered in disgust. He opened his eyes to the sight of Qamar looking at him. The edge of her snout mere inches away from his face. Qamar’s tongue shot out and licked Jibreel from the bottom of his chin to his forehead, “Ugh, enough!”
The sun was just breaking the horizon to the east. Jibreel stood and stretched the stiffness from his body. Not getting any younger. He then rummaged through one of the saddle bags and found what he was looking for. Opening a small burlap sack, he grabbed a handful of grain and turned towards Qamar. “Is this what you seek?” he asked Qamar. Qamar, smelling the grain, turned and poked Jibreel’s closed hand with his snout. Smiling Jibreel opened his hand, and Qamar eagerly ate the grain from his palm.
Jibreel took half a dozen dates from his saddle bag. He then searched through another bag for a bottle. Finding it, he withdrew it from the bag and smiled. “Honey,” he said out loud. He carefully removed the cork stopper with his teeth and put a few drops on the dates. He placed his feet in the pool and sat at the water’s edge and ate his breakfast. As he chewed on the dates contentedly, he watched the reds and purples cast across the sky by the rising sun. The orb was a dull orange. “Bismillah be praised. Such beauty.”
Jibreel stood and slipped off his robes and keffiyeh. He placed the garments at the water’s edge and lowered himself into the pool. He floated for a time relaxing and then washed the dirt of the road from his skin. Satisfied he emerged from the pool, put on his robes and turban. The robes, made from Egyptian cotton, were white and covered his entire body from ankle to neck. The keffiyeh wrapped around his head helped to protect it from the harsh rays of the sun. Both garments worked in concert to keep him cool, at least as cool as one could be in the open deserts of Arabia.
Jibreel filled his water skin next. He then placed the saddle back on Qamar’s back and fastened the single strap tightly to his belly. Qamar snorted in protest at the extra weight. He then placed his water skin on the saddle and removed the hobbling strap from Qamar’s legs. He fastened the strap to the saddle and then said, “Kee, Kee, Kee.” Qamar obediently lowered himself to the ground. Jibreel climbed into the saddle and then said, “Kaa, Kaa, Kaa.”
Qamar stood. Jibreel then slapped Qamar gently in the neck with the leather strap. Qamar started walking. Jibreel used Qamar’s harness to guide the beast toward the rising sun. They rode for an hour and then turned to the south. Off in the distance, Jibreel saw the peak of Mount Hira. The pair slowly made their way toward the mountain. As he rode, Jibreel daydreamed about Sabella and the softness of her skin.
Jibreel’s daydreaming was interrupted by a sudden crash of thunder. Startled by the noise, Qamar reared up and nearly threw Jibreel. Jibreel grabbed the harness and stroked her neck with his hand, “Easy girl, shhh it’s ok.” He then looked up and saw a ball of fire streaking toward him.
“Bismillah preserve us!” he yelled. The fireball flew past the pair and impacted the ground with a loud boom several miles to the east. An offering from the Gods, or perhaps a God has fallen to earth?” “Come Qamar let us investigate.” Jibreel turned Qamar toward the impact site.
As the pair rode towards the site of the impact, black smoke rose into the air indicating the final resting place of whatever or whoever it was. Jibreel’s mind was filled with thoughts of what it could be, A Djinn come to grant me my every wish? The idea excited him. He slapped Qamar’s sides with the leather strap urging the beast to move faster.
After about an hour of riding the pair arrived at the site, “Kee, Kee, Kee.” Qamar dutifully knelt down to allow Jibreel to dismount. Jibreel walked up to the source of the black smoke. A broad swath had been cut into the sand by the object. Resting at the end of the furrow cut by the fallen object was a black rock.
Parts of the rock glowed with a greenish tinge.
Jibreel approached the rock and looked at it carefully. The greenish glow slowly faded over several minutes to leave only the black color. It wasn’t just a natural black rock. The rock seemed to suck the very light out of the air surrounding it. Jibreel tried to pick up the rock, but instead, he cried out in pain, “Aiyeeah.” As the finger that had touched the stone was burned.
Jibreel took a step back and sucked on his burnt finger, How can I pick this thing up?” The only response he got was a rumbling from his stomach. Needing some time to think, he went back to Qamar and pulled out a couple of dates along with his water skin. He took a sip and swished the water around his mouth moistening it. He then sat down in Qamar’s shadow and ate his lunch. As he ate an idea occurred to him, The thing is black perhaps that is why it is so hot?
Jibreel pulled a blanket from the back of his saddle. He then laid it across the trench cut by the stone. The trench and hole in which the rock sat enabled him to use the blanket to shade it from the sun without the blanket touching the black stone. He gathered up some nearby rocks and set them on the edges of the blanket to prevent it from blowing away. “I wonder how long it will take the black stone to cool?” He said out loud. Looking at Qamar, he chuckled lightly, “I must have a pox of the mind if I expect an answer from you, Qamar.”
Jibreel sat down on the ground, leaned up against Qamar, and looked around at the countryside. Like much of Arabia it was a barren land of reddish tinged sand and stone as far as the eye could see. The occasional breeze gave little relief from the stifling heat of the intense Arabian Sun. Any skin felt like it was burning when exposed to that merciless orb during the heat of the day. Lacking anything else to do while he waited for the black stone to cool, Jibreel dozed. His dreams were interrupted by nightmares.
After a few hours he awoke screaming, “What was I dreaming about that frightened me so?” He asked himself. He sat for several minutes trying to bring the images back into his mind. Several times he thought he was on the verge of bringing the horrific images forth from deep in his mind, but each time they seemed to slip away just as he was about to grab hold of them. One word kept entering his mind as he tried, hunger.
Jibreel stood, and looked down at Qamar, “I wonder if our new arrival can be touched yet?” He walked over to the blanket which had become covered with a light coating of sand and picked it up. He shook the dust from it, folded it, and placed it back on the rear of his saddle. He returned to the stone and observed it for a time. The green glow is gone. Gingerly he extended his sandaled foot toward it and touched the black stone with the bottom of his sandal. He jerked the sandal back and inspected the underside. Looks ok.
Jibreel then stepped down into the trench carved by the stone as it had landed. He knelt down on his knees in front of the black stone and extended his right hand. He held his hand a few millimeters from the surface of the stone. I don’t feel any heat.” He then extended his pinky finger out and touched the stone. It was now cool to the touch. “Whew,” he said out loud. Qamar responded to the sound of his voice with a grunt.
Jibreel picked up the stone and examined it. On one side it was as smooth as glass. On the other sides, the surface was sharp and jagged. As Jibreel ran his hand over the stone, it cut him on his index finger. The cut oozed a single drop of blood onto the stone. When the blood touched the surface of the stone, it was instantly absorbed.
The stone flashed a bright white light. The light seemed to have physical form and knocked Jibreel to the ground. As Jibreel fell to the ground, he hit his head on a rock. His vision was filled with gray and black spots. He tried to sit up, but the world wobbled. The black spots filled his vision becoming a blanket of darkness.
Jibreel awoke, his head throbbed and the pressure on his temple made it seem as if his brains would explode from his head at any moment. Pushing down the urge to vomit he opened his eyes, it was dark. Panicked he looked around for Qamar. Qamar was still on the ground asleep and snoring loudly. “Praise be to Bismillah, Qamar is still here,” he said out loud.
Jibreel looked around on the ground to see where he had dropped the black stone but couldn’t find it, “Where did it go?” He asked himself out loud. The only response he got was a rumbling in his stomach. He took out a few dates and ate them. He washed the simple meal down with some warm water from his water skin. A chilly gust hit him, and he shivered.
Jibreel nudged Qamar’s sleeping form with his foot, “Wake up, Qamar, we must be off.” Qamar groaned at Jibreel in displeasure. Jibreel climbed into the saddle and said, “Kaa, Kaa, Kaa.” Qamar stood. Jibreel could see Mount Hira by the moonlight, so he headed in that direction. I really shouldn’t travel at night, but by now Sabella must be sick with worry.
Jibreel rode for several hours, eventually falling asleep in the saddle as Qamar slowly plodded towards Mount Hira. He dreamed of a voracious appetite. A hunger that couldn’t be satisfied no matter what he did. He consumed every ounce of food in the camp. Sabella did everything she could to sate his hunger. Everything. . .
Finally, an idea entered his mind from a dark recess that he had never dared to open up before. Sabella would taste so good. Jibreel grabbed her and bit into the soft tissues of her neck. He relished in the taste of her flesh and life blood as it touched his tongue while he fed. Jibreel awoke screaming, “No!” he shouted. The scream startled Qamar and the camel cried out in protest at the sudden outburst.
Bismillah be praised it was just a nightmare. Jibreel realized as the fogginess of sleep disappeared from his thoughts. As he rode, he broke out into a cold sweat. Over time he became dizzy and nauseous. His thoughts kept drifting back to his nightmare. How good it tasted to feed on Sabella’s soft flesh. “Gods! What am I thinking?” he said out loud. His only response was the sound of Qamar’s hooves as they plodded along and the faint sound of the pre-dawn wind.
The sun crested the eastern horizon. The light revealed a group of tents at the base of Mount Hira. Not long now. His vision had filled with white and gray spots, and he swayed in the saddle. He looked down at his hand. The skin had taken on a bluish gray pallor. I look like someone who is dead. He lost sight of the tents as he rode into a depression.
Emerging from the other side of the depression, Jibreel saw that the tents belonged to his family. His head swam. The white and gray spots had turned into gray and black spots in his vision. He could hear his pulse thundering in his ears as the blood rushed faster and faster through his veins. He took hold of the leather strap tied to his saddle and smacked Qamar hard with it. Qamar let out a cry of protest but sped up her pace.
Jibreel could see gray forms coming towards him. He couldn’t see who they were because of the spots in his eyes. The forms spoke to him as they approached but he couldn’t make out the sounds, My head feels like someone has kicked it all night and this hunger, Bismillah, please take this hunger away. Then he caught the smell. It's Sabella, my love.” Mustering his last reserves of strength from deep within Jibreel opened his mouth and croaked, “Sabella.” The last of his strength exhausted he toppled from the saddle. Strong arms caught him, and the smell of Sabella filled his mind.
The nightmares pursued him. Try as he might, Jibreel couldn’t escape them as he was filled with such ravenous hunger. Oh, Bismillah end this torment. He dreamed of drowning, “I never imagined there was this much water in the world!” As he choked on the water filling his lungs, he clawed his way back to the surface. Breaking the surface, he spat out the water and coughed. As he did so the water turned to blood, and the hunger came crashing down upon him once more.
Jibreel’s vision faded from the ocean of blood. He awoke, in his tent, lying in a pool of sweat. His strength seemed to have returned. He sat up, “The sickness seems to have disappeared. Thank Bismillah for delivering me from that awful affliction.” He looked around, within reach was a plate of dates, goat cheese, and
a cup of wine. He picked up the cup in his right hand and drank greedily, “That’s the best tasting wine I have ever had.” Next, he took a date and ate it.
The hunger returned. Jibreel stuffed the rest of the dates and the goat cheese into his mouth. He then saw a plate with some meat upon it. Grabbing the meat, he shoveled it into his mouth and swallowed without chewing. The hunger intensified, Oh my innards hunger so.” Desperate, he stood and walked over to the opening and pushed his way through the flaps. The sun blinded him, and he stumbled for a moment. He felt a small figure grab hold of his leg. He looked down and saw his little girl Jesenia.
Jibreel squatted down, and Jesenia leaped into his arms. He hugged her, “My sweet little girl.” As he hugged her, he kissed her gently on the forehead. Her skin smells so good. I am so hungry. His mouth watered at the smell of his child. The hunger like a vise squeezed every other sensation out of his mind until there was nothing else in his world. No memories of those he loved, or anything else. Just the hunger. The delicious smell of young flesh tormented him, and he couldn’t stand it any longer; he bit down into his little girl’s neck.
Jesenia screamed in horror, “Daddy, why are you hurting me?”
Jibreel didn’t even hear the scream. He could only feel the sweet taste of her flesh. For a moment his hunger was satisfied, but then it came back. Then he felt a horrible pain in his chest. He looked down and saw the tip of a sword sticking out of it. For a moment he was relieved, “Thank the gods I can do no more harm to my family.”
The moment was fleeting, and the hunger returned. He pulled himself free of the sword and turned on the attacker. It was his son Tarek. Jibreel fought the hunger, and for a brief moment he was victorious, “Tarek, run!”
Tarek ignored Jibreel and stood there stunned for a few moments. Jibreel once again lost control and lunged at Tarek, who again, swung the sword at him. As the sword struck Jibreel’s left side, he reached and pulled Tarek to him. Then he feasted. As he sat atop Tarek and fed the hunger flickered and died. Satisfied, he stood.
An unholy scream erupted from the edge of the camp. He turned to see what was causing the noise. It was Sabella. She had returned from a nearby spring with a jug of water atop her head. She looked at her husband with horror in her eyes.
Sabella didn’t know what to make of this. She saw the bodies of her two children and Jibreel covered in blood. He had grievous wounds but lived still. She called out to him, “Jibreel?” Jibreel wasn’t inside his own body anymore. He was floating above the thing that he had become. He tried to warn Sabella, “For the love of Bismillah, run!” She didn’t heed his warning.
The thing that was formerly Jibreel let out a hiss and charged at Sabella. She threw the water jug at him and screamed, “Jibreel, what has come over you? For Bismillah’s sake fight the demon that has taken hold of you!” The water jug struck Jibreel’s body and smashed. It didn’t even slow him down. Jibreel’s consciousness just floated helplessly as he watched the thing reach Sabella. It grabbed her and bit down on her shoulder.
“NO!” Jibreel screamed as he awoke.
Sabella was looking down at him, “My love, are you ok? You were having some kind of horrible nightmare.”
Thank Bismillah it was just another horrible dream. He looked up at Sabella and spoke. Words began tumbling out of his mouth. He made no sense.
Sabella held a finger to his lips, “Shhh its ok, you’re safe now.”
Suddenly the hunger crashed into his mind, Oh the smell of her flesh, like ambrosia. Jibreel opened his mouth and felt her finger with his tongue.
Sabella giggled, “I see that you are quite better now love.” Sabella screamed as Jibreel bit off the finger, “Jibreel!” Sabella fell back and kicked with her legs pushing herself away from him. She grabbed a plate and struck Jibreel over the head. The bronze plate clanged, and Jibreel’s head swam. For a moment the hunger abated.
“Sabella, my love, you must kill me. I don’t know how long I can keep this horrible thing within me in check. Kill me!”
“I cannot,” Sabella replied. She looked around for a weapon to subdue Jibreel. She saw his sword lying on the floor near the entrance to the tent. She unsheathed the blade and approached Jibreel cautiously.
“Yes, Sabella, strike me down. Save yourself and our children.” Sabella turned the sword so that the flat of the blade pointed downwards and then she hit Jibreel in the head with it. For a moment the hunger abated and was replaced by pain, “Sabella, forgive me.” Jibreel begged. Then the blackness took him. Sabella ripped a strip of cloth from her dress and staunched the flow of blood from her missing finger.
Sabella emerged from the tent just as Tarek arrived. He had been tending to their flock of sheep as they fed on the vegetation nearby. This year had been uncommonly wet around Mount Hira, and the countryside was dotted with speckles of green amongst the sea of reddish tans that dominated the Arabian countryside. Tarek gasped for breath as he looked down at his mother’s hand, “Mother, what happened?”
“Some foul demon has bewitched your father. I know not how, but he is not himself. His sleep is filled with nightmares, and he is losing control of himself.” Sabella held up her right hand and removed the cloth for a moment.
Tarek gasped in horror at the sight of her missing index finger, “Father did that?”
Sabella slumped to the ground and started crying, “Yes, I know not how to expel the demon that has overcome him. He goes from being your father to a hunger crazed beast without warning. When he was in control, he told me to kill him. I’m so frightened, Tarek. What are we to do?” Tarek knelt down and held his mother in an embrace. She cried into his chest for a time.
The sobs subsiding Sabella told Tarek, “We must do something before he wakes.”
Tarek looked around their camp. It consisted of three tents surrounding a fire pit, where they cooked their meals. His eyes settled on Jibreel’s saddle. Tarek walked over to it and grabbed the leather hobbling strap. “I have an idea.”
Walking into the tent, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim interior for several seconds. Jibreel moaned at the bright light from outside. Acting quickly, Tarek used the sword to cut the leather strap in half. He then tied his father’s hands behind his back. Tarek then used the second half to tie his father’s legs together and turned to Sabella, “The cave in the mountain with the spring we draw our water from. We can put him there for now. It will keep him alive and out of the sun until we figure out what to do with him.”
Sabella nodded, “Good thinking, my son.” Tarek hefted the form of his father and carried him outside. He placed him across Qamar’s back. Tarek lead Qamar up the side of Mount Hira to the cave. He removed Jibreel and carried him to the back of the cave and laid him on the cavern floor. Tarek then returned to the camp.
Jibreel’s dreams tormented him for the rest of the day as he lay unconscious. The dreams were filled with unending hunger and death. Jibreel floated above the grisly scenes as they unfolded. He watched himself kill and consume his family countless times. The rising sun shined into the back of the cave and he awoke. He looked up and saw Sabella standing over him. She held a piece of meat in her hands.
“Sabella,” Jibreel croaked.
The sadness in her face changed into a smile, “Jibreel, are you better now? Has the demon left you?”
The wave of hunger washed over Jibreel once again. He looked up and saw a meal standing over him. He tried to grab the meal but his arms and legs didn’t work. He cried out in frustration. The meal is so close! The meal held up a piece of meat.
“Is this what you want?” The meal asked him. He tried to form the word yes but couldn’t. Finally, he just nodded. The meal tossed a small piece of food at him. He opened his mouth and caught it. For a moment the hunger subsided and he recognized his wife. “Sabella,” he said for a second time. The moment of lucidness was
fleeting and the hunger overwhelmed his senses again.
The meal sighed. Jibreel’s teeth kept clicking as he opened and closed his mouth rapidly. Click, click, click, and click. The meal tossed another succulent morsel into his mouth. He swallowed without chewing, “Sabella I’m…” His voice trailed off as the hunger pushed everything out of his thoughts again.
The meal leaned over him and looked into his eyes. Jibreel pulled on his restraints trying to get at her. He could hear the blood flowing in her soft and succulent neck. The meal dropped the rest of the meat into his open mouth. He chewed a few times and then swallowed, “Sabella, I love you.”
“I love you too,” Sabella replied with tears coming to her eyes.
Then Jibreel was gone again. Sabella took a step back, fell to her knees, and wept. She returned every day with some meat to feed him and gain a few precious seconds with the man she loved. Finally the vegetation was exhausted by the herd. The family had to move on or risk losing their herds to starvation. Tarek sitting atop Qamar used a hammer and chisel to write a name above the cave entrance. Tap, tap, tap, the sound of the chisel striking the stone rang out. Satisfied Tarek stepped back, dismounted, and looked up at his work. It read, Jibreel.
Without the daily meals the creature that Jibreel had become fell into a deep sleep. Seasons went buy, then years, and finally decades. He slept, no longer dreaming, his mind completely gone. Finally, many years in the future a hapless traveler was driven into the cave by a sand storm. Jibreel’s senses detected the presence of a meal and began to rouse, “Hello.” A voice said near the cave entrance, “Is there anyone there?” The voice asked.
Jibreel strained at the leather strap binding him. He leaned forward and bit it with his teeth and let out a growl. The leather strap, dry rotted after many years of existence, broke and he was released. He rose and shuffled awkwardly toward the sound of the meal. His limbs were very stiff. The meal, outlined by the light of the cave entrance, was looking at him but he was shrouded in darkness and couldn’t be seen. Suddenly the meal cried out and collapsed. This was his chance! The limited intelligence that was once Jibreel thought. He lunged at the meal and sank his teeth into its shoulder.
“What are you doing?” The man asked. The meal shuffled backwards, stood, and left the cave. Jibreel tried to grab the meal but his leaden limbs were too slow. The meal disappeared into the swirling mass of blowing sand. Jibreel, cried out in frustration, continued lurching slowly, following him out into the storm. . .
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Prologue
Mount Hira 610 Arabia
Mohammed sighed contentedly as he looked up at the many-hued masterpiece in front of him. The sun had just crested the horizon and was shining upon Mount Hira. The normal tan and brown colors of the mountain were transformed into oranges, reds, and purples. Mohammed said to himself, “I am truly blessed to behold such beauty.”
He reached down and scooped up a handful of the sand at the base of the mountain. The grains felt cool to the touch. He opened his fist just a bit to let the sand particles fall back to the earth. He observed the grains as they fell, “Straight down good no wind. Today’s climb should be easy.”
Mohammed began his ascent. The stones, not yet heated by the sun, were cool and pleasant to touch. He climbed for a time. About halfway up the mountain he paused and looked up. The peak towered above him but had grown much closer. Looking down, he felt that it was about the same distance to the bottom of the mountain as it was to the top. A faint bit of wind tickled the hairs on the back of his neck. Curious, he turned around. He gasped at what he saw. Despite his swarthy complexion his face noticeably paled.
In the distance from the ground to the heavens was a brown wall. As he observed the wall, it slowly filled out the horizon to his left and right, “Curses, I must find some shelter before that abomination arrives and flays the skin from my bones.” He continued his ascent for a time and then turned again to observe the storm. I have maybe thirty minutes to find shelter.
Mohammed looked around. Recognizing where he was, he increased the pace of his ascent. I must make for the cave. As he clambered up the cliff face, a gust of wind pushed him into it. His forehead struck the hard rocky surface, causing little white dots to cloud his vision. Despite this, he was able to hang on. Clinging to the rocks, he turned to observe the storm. It was nearly upon him.
Mohammed continued to scramble up the mountainside toward the cave, but he had run out of time. The wind howled into his ears and seemed to both push him into the cliff and pull him at the same time. Grains of sand hammered his skin causing him to cry out in pain. Mohammed thought to himself. It feels as if a thousand bees are stinging me all at once! I must get to the cave soon, or there will be nothing left of me but my sandblasted bones.
Mohammed looked around trying to get his bearings. Satisfied he knew where he was, he scrambled up the cliff until he reached a plateau. He smiled when he saw the familar shadowed maw of the cave entrance mere feet in front of him. He slowly picked his way over the shifting rocks toward the cave. Suddenly, a gust of wind picked him up and flung him to the left of the cave and then slammed him into the ground. Again he saw white spots again and felt dizzy.
Mohammed shook his head and cleared the spots from his vision. He then stood and began stumbling through the storm in the direction he thought the cave was. As he slowly walked, he tripped on a large red rock and fell to his knees. The pain of the jagged stones biting into his knees was intense. Trying to ignore the paint he struggled against the wind. Managing to stand up again, he realized that he had lost his way.
As Mohammed pondered which direction to head the howling of the storm increased in intensity. I know not which way to go. Picking a direction at random, he started walking again. As he walked, it was a struggle just to remain upright. The strong winds buffeted his body and tried to push him off the mountain. Losing his balance, his feet slipped out from under him. His body struck the ground hard, and he began to slide toward the edge of the cliff.
The wind shifted direction and began pushing him away from the edge, “Praise God.” The wind, a fickle ally at best, changed direction again, swirled into a dust devil, and pushed him toward the edge once again. Mohammed thrashed around, desperately trying to find anything to stop his descent. Through the swirling sand, he spotted a large rock with a good hand hold on the edge of a cliff just before the gaping oblivion of open air.
Straining with all his might, he reached out to grab the rock as slid went by it. His fingers touched it and clamped down, trying to get a grip on the smooth stone. They failed. His fingers slipped off the stone, and over the edge, he went. He was falling!
Almost instantly Mohammed’s body crashed into the ground. He landed on his left leg, and the impact sent shooting pain up the limb. The water skin he had slung over his shoulder exploded under his weight and the
hard rocky surface. The parched earth swallowed the precious liquid in the blink of an eye.
Mohammed panicked. Hurt, and without water, he thought groggily. Recovering his senses, he looked up at the opening of a cave. I know every nook and cranny of this mountain, but I have never seen this cave before. His left leg chose that moment to remind him of the extent of his injury. A shooting pain caused him to gasp out loud. For several moments there was nothing in his world but the blinding pain. After several moments, it settled down into a dull throb. He felt like he could make his way into the cave.
Mohammed began crawling toward the opening but paused when he noticed a faint scrawl above the entrance. The Arabic letters formed a name. The name had faded over time and was very difficult to read. He studied the name trying to make out the individual letters.
Squinting, he was able to finally make it out the writing through the swirling sands. The first letter looked like a J. He was unable to read the next two letters. The fourth letter, appeared to be an R. The next two letters appeared to be Es, and the final letter looked like an L. Mohammed thought to himself for a moment. He recognized that sequence of letters. The two unreadable characters must be an I and a B. “Jibreel,” Mohammed said out loud. Thanks to the sandstorm his throat was parched, and it came out as a croak.
Mohammed entered the cave and rested for a moment. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness. The throbbing in his leg was painful but seemed to be subsiding. The cave was pitch black, but as his eyes adjusted, he was able to make out a very faint outline. He heard the sound of water bubbling at the back of the cave. Relieved, Mohammed gave a silent prayer of thanks and crawled toward the sound. As the bubbling water became louder, he heard some gravel shift nearby. “Hello?” He paused. “Is there anyone there?” After several moments waiting for a response, he heard a low moan, or was it a growl?
It sounded faintly human, but it could have also been an animal, “I won’t hurt you.” Again sound came forth, but this time it was distinctly louder and closer. Mohammed could hear what sounded like shuffling steps moving toward him. He tried to stand up, but his left foot slipped out from under him.
The throbbing in his leg turned into shooting pain! He fell to the cave floor and was stunned. Teeth tore into his shoulder and pulled away a piece of his flesh, “What are you doing?” He screamed. Full of adrenaline and with the aid of the cave wall he was finally able to stand up. He limped outside into the raging sand storm.
Not caring at all about the storm, Mohammed limped as fast as he could from the cavern. Finally, after he felt that he had put a safe distance between himself and whatever creature bit him in the cave, he looked down at his shoulder. It was bleeding freely, but he could make out the outlines of tooth marks in his skin. A human mouthful worth of his shoulder flesh was missing.
Mohammed suddenly felt faint, stumbled, and fell to his knees. His body felt like it was on fire. A few seconds later his whole body turned numb, and the edges of his vision darkened. Desperate, he tried to stand up again, but he no longer had control of his body. He began to feel an overwhelming burning hunger in the pit of his stomach. At this same moment, his vision failed, and there was nothing but darkness. . .
Approximately twenty-five years later