280. “Against them make ready your strength to the utmost of your power, including steeds of war, to strike terror into the enemy of Allah and your enemy.” He repeated these words quietly, meditatively – each syllable the world to his beating heart. As he whispered these sacred works, he continued his long, lumbering journey towards providence.
273. His footsteps were drowned by a sea of people. A mere indistinguishable contribution to that cacophony brutally cutting across the inanimate skyline. The city around him pulsated as the crowd sighed collectively on the commute home. And he alone strode with devout purpose. In solitude, he walked, with the purity of his motivations - the anwer to the leaden heaviness of beleaguered, tumultuous avenues.
261. Darkness loomed over the city, held at bay by the electric glow of American consumerism; countless criminal revelries of a godless society. Here, under the neon glare of foreign lights, he was virtuous, as pure as the transient, fragrant snowflakes that drifted by him on their way. Metamorphose into mire. Piety exuded from him as he serenely traversed the city streets. He need not acknowledge the infidels milling around him, as if he were royalty amongst common drones.
259. Unequivocal contentment overcame him as he anticipated the divine undertaking. The unadulterated joy of a plan drawn, a decision made, a mission implemented. At last, he felt complete; blissful in servitude to Allah.
249. An hour ago, the mechanism had been fastened around him, encasing his ribcage, constricting the blood in his chest. Each forced breath reminded him of his mortality. 243 inhalations and exhalations remained between himself and Allah. 242, 241, 240 - a countdown of gasps – each cyclical breath in and out was simply that. Life ebbing by in respiration.
235. His exterior was a façade; a black Burberry coat replaced his stark and simple thawbs, surreptitiously concealing the explosives strapped tightly around his torso, hindering his every breath. The last vestige of his true identity was left apparent only in his callused hands. His projected image was not dissimilar from his past heretical appearance. But, the vanity that had once consumed him had vanished, as faith had become paramount to trivial cultural influences. He had donned the wispy facial hairs and the ascetic dress of his Prophet, discarding his former faithless persona.
213. Receiving the righteous duty, which he so yearned to fulfill, was a blessing; the opportunity promised by his Jihadist brothers had now been bestowed upon him. Preparation had finished after months of meditation with the Imam, secluded from all that was visceral. He had prayed with his brothers. In brotherhood, they served Allah. They found solace within history, in Jihadists of the past; in heroes, and in Allah. He had immersed himself in ritual contemplation and prayer, freeing himself
from the pressures of this mortal body, disciplining himself against the frailty of emotion.
189. Earthly judgement mattered not; rather, Allah’s question at Heaven’s gate. From brother to brother he searched each set of coal black eyes, observing that despite the opaqueness of their irises, an incandescent light illuminated from within. Their eyes shone in euphoria, as visual revelations of their desires swept over them; involved in visions of a first exchange with Allah, as he embraced the martyr, he would inquire, “How may infidels did you kill?”
165. Surrounded by pagan hedonists, he shuffled forward in the snow, cringing at the sinful immorality, palpable in the cloak of darkness that clung to the skyscrapers around him. Complacent. They were that spirit of degradation, imposed on his homeland. They were personifications of evil, stemming from ignorance and maligned intent; shells which had slain his brother and mother; bombs which had decimated his father’s livelihood; sanctions which had starved his people; weaponised fortifications built on the Prophet’s hallowed ground; obscenity which had tainted the minds of his generation.
143. These travesties that had stripped him only sparked the fire of rebellion. In his naivety, he had been convinced that much could be gained from non-violence. Letter writing campaigns, diplomatic solutions and peaceful protesting proved ineffective as he continued to hear the shrill cries of his people, piercing through stagnant night air. Lost and faithless, he hunted for the answer – seeking salvation.
132. His advancement forward seemed as if each footfall was drawn in by both his terrestrial and celestial destinations. However, an uncontrolled beating of his heart and an inability to restrain his thoughts slowed his progress. “It is natural,” his Imam had said, “to think of one’s life and family before an act of self-sacrifice. But remember, you will meet your parents, brothers, sons, wives and daughters in Heaven.”
126. His thoughts floated back to the birth of his one child. He promised to him. It was his son who had led him to righteousness. Each newborn was given the opportunity to flourish and prosper in life, in love and in faith by the Creator. His son's was cut short. Protect and provide that which is promised by Allah. If only for that, he will fight for freedom. His life is forfeit.
108. He'll reunite with them in Heaven, he was sure.
92. In this moment, he was in ecstasy. It was an unmistakable exhilaration which filled his body and calmed his shaking limbs. Obligatory cleansing ablutions complete. His mission so close at hand.
89. The crowd was thick around him. 81. 80. Yet, he barely registered the murmur of their speech. Talk of work, talk of sex, talk of money – talk of nothing; they assembled around him. He stood tall amidst the enemy. 65. He glanced up at the frozen sky, the clouds pregnant with pristine crystalline snow.
45. He felt the elation of finality, the certainty of devotion and the excitement of the expected. 34. 33. 32. Through the gates of Heaven, he would be welcomed into the company of his brother martyrs, and into the arms of Allah, to worship Him and do His bidding. He meditated in the throng of people as he readied himself.
16. Warmth spread over him. His eyes closed and his head tilted to the sky.
11. His passage home – heralded as a hero.
6. He inhaled…he exhaled…he prayed…
5 – to his conviction and martyrdom,
4 – to his beloved brotherhood,
3 – to his son,
2 – to Allah,
1 – Allah.
