Pervert Prophet

By Farid Aziz

Fictional satire on the life of a pervert prophet. Mahound, one of the world’s most feared warlords, awakes one morning to find himself surrounded by fire and brimstone. How on earth did he get here? What fate awaited him? Mahound had an insatiable appetite forged in despair. He lived a life of excess at the expense of everybody else. But so had many others before him. Little did he know that he was destined for a battle between Good and Evil. But on which side would he belong? Would there be a price to pay? Was there anyone powerful enough to stop him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Farid Aziz
• Release date: Nov 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781999808228

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Pervert Prophet

By Farid Aziz

Copyright © 2017 by Farid Aziz

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, religions, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-9998082-1-1

Farid Aziz Publishing, 2017

http://faridaziz1.wordpress.com

This book is dedicated to all those who suffer from persecution and who need to know there is hope. This book is dedicated to those whose voices have been forever silenced in the name of a false Prophet. This book is dedicated to those who dedicate their lives to peace instead of war, love instead of hatred and hope instead of fear.

Igniting ambition

We should never lose an occasion. Opportunity is more powerful even than conquerors and prophets.

― Benjamin Disraeli

Wakey-wakey...

Mahound opened his eyes and was stunned by what he saw. There were eruptions and fires burning all around him. The air was warm and stuffy with the distinct smell of sulphur, like rotten eggs. He could hear the dreadful echoes of distant crying and screaming. Underneath his feet the ground was unbearably hot. It was a scorching desert hostile to any form of life. In the distance hew could see rocks, boulders and a few abandoned buildings. Hell, ironically was not dissimilar to the terrain of Arabia.

Mahound felt the ground thud and shake. The thumps of heavy hooves pounding and pummelling the ground into submission grew stronger. Something was stomping its way towards him smashing anything in its way.

Out of the blazing fire slithered a huge Jinn; a gigantic demon surrounded in smokeless fire coiling a large tail like a dragon. On the end of his tail was an extension that was like an axe or mace. Mahound was stunned as he saw the reflection of fire flickering a red and orange hue on the demon’s scales. He had features that resembled a goat like his horns, legs and hooves but he was enormous, muscular and standing on his hind legs. Instead of fur, he had scales like a serpent as his armour and bat-like wings with claws.

Mahound’s hands began to tremble as the Jinn stood over him. As he moved closer, Mahound could see his scales were the colour of the finest rubies, shading to darker on the back of his neck. His elongated arms had four digits ending with claws on each hand all pointing towards Mahound. Two rows of bony plates ran from the base of his skull to his shoulders. Wing-like bony plates projected from the back of its head. A bony ridge separated his large nostrils. The Jinn had oddly thick lips displaying a wide smile ruthlessly concealing teeth like daggers. He had frightful fiery red eyes that could pierce into your soul. His tendrils were splaying as if to signal danger.

Satan’s wings were folded like an immense bat, displaying their claws. To say that Mahound’s breath was taken away is an understatement. There are no words to express how shocked he was. Mahound had heard of Jinns before, but the magnificence, the lust, the wonder of such a beast had never come home to him. He gazed for what seemed an age.

Welcome to Hell. Here’s your accordion.

What?

Mahound, you’re home at last. I have been expecting you. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Satan.

Mahound was shocked to see flames flicker from the Devil’s mouth and nostrils every time he hissed.

You’re who?

Satan... Shaytan. Azazil. Iblis. Baʿal. Rajeem. The father of all Jinn.

No...

Yes, yes... You know me better than anyone else, or at least you should...

Mahound spotted some large rocks in the corner of his eye and ran as fast and as far as his legs could carry him.

Where are you going, Mahound? There’s nowhere to go!

Mahound continued running and eventually stopped when he could only see the faint outline of the demon chasing him. He cowered behind some large jagged rocks as he peeked around them. Warned by the echoes of countless screaming voices, he knew to take care not to make a sound as he crept quietly towards a nearby abandoned building. His face was grim and his hands were quivering with fear. He was a very different prophet from the one that had caused people across Arabia to shudder with dread. As he reached the point of safety behind the crumbling wall, he tightened his belt, and took another glimpse.

You are done for, he said to himself. You couldn’t just settle for success. Oh no. You had to have power over everybody else! said the normally faint voice of a conscience. I wish I was home. I wish I hadn’t started this whole scam! All those people dead because of me.

Unfortunately, his wish did not come true. He was altogether alone. He crept to the other side of the wall. The heat was now unbearable.

Mahound! The demon roared like thunder. You can’t hide from me!

Mahound peeked out again and could see the glowing outline of the demon as he laughed— a devastating sound which shook the ground underneath Mahound’s feet.

The demon moved towards him with silent stealth, the glowing red hue grew and grew, until there was no mistaking it. The heat was now scorching as Mahound began to sweat profusely. A haze of vapour ascended from the ground. Mahound’s ears began to throb with the sound of his heart pounding, as beads of sweat almost blinded him from the figure heading in his direction. The ground shook with the roar of nearby eruptions and fire. But there was something else. He could now feel his legs trembling as the earth shook with the rumble of the gigantic demon heading his way as if a dormant volcano had suddenly began to erupt. The demon silently soared into the air, gaining altitude until he cast a shadow on the earth plunging the land below him into darkness like a gigantic bat.

Mahound heard the flap of gigantic wings. The demon came hurtling, his fires illuminating the darkness, licking the roof of the building with flame, beating his great wings with a noise like a roaring wind. He landed shaking the ground like an earthquake and bellowed thunderously as he smashed one of the walls into smithereens using a single lash of his huge tail. An avalanche of splintered stones rained over the prophet. His hot breath shrivelled some tumbleweed next to Mahound, and charred his face as he hid. Fires flickered as the embers danced around him.

There he stood, a vast red and golden Jinn, with eyes wide open; breathing wisps of smoke only from his jaws and nostrils, while the remainder of his body was surrounded in smokeless fire. His huge limbs and his enormous coiled tail surrounded Mahound.

It was at this point that Mahound recoiled back hiding behind one of the remaining walls to stop for a moment and think. How on earth did I end up here? he said to himself. He wondered if he was having a near death experience. In that moment, Mahound’s entire life flashed before his eyes.

It all began a long time ago, when Mahound was still young. In Europe and beyond, the Roman Empire was gradually being replaced by the Byzantine Empire, with roads, aqueducts, irrigation canals, and a culture that included philosophy and theatre. Meanwhile, the Arabian Peninsula was a barren region with scorching heat by day, and chilling cold at night. The Arabians were nomadic, living difficult lives in this harsh climate among warring tribes.

The inhospitable environment with its jagged rocks and shifting sand dunes protected the peninsula from conquest and cultural influence. It was isolated, with the exception of trading routes.

Among the sand, trading centres were developing. Commodities came from far afield such as wine from Syria, Iraq and Persia, weapons such as spears from India and slaves from Africa. There were caravan routes leading from Yemen to Syria and thereon to Iraq for spices and cloth for which Mecca became a key focal point. Jedda was an important port for maritime trade along the Arabian Gulf and Red Sea.

The trading centres that grew had pagan religious traditions. Such towns had Kaabas; cubic structures that attracted pilgrims. Mecca had a well called zamzam so it was a useful stopover to replenish water supplies. Mecca had grown into a bastion of pluralism, renowned for religious tolerance, where people of all faiths would come and pray at the Kaaba. The Kaaba housed various idols, including a black meteorite. Mahound’s Quraysh tribe worshipped this black stone and various gods. Hubal was recognised by the Quraysh as the greatest god with an idol at the Kaaba. The Hubal idol was a tall statue of red agate stone shaped like a human, with the right hand being a golden hand. Allah was used as a designation for the greatest god. The Kaaba also housed three-hundred-and-sixty other gods or idols.

People of Arabia were either nomadic or sedentary, the former constantly traveling from one place to another seeking water and pasture for their flocks, while the latter settled and focused on trade and agriculture.

The religious make-up of the Arabian Peninsula was complex. Christians were higher in numbers in Yemen, particularly at Najran, There were Christian Arabs; Monophysites in Syria and Nestorians in Iraq. Jewish communities were more prevalent in Yemen and in the Hijaz. There were also many monotheistic cults, such as one worshipping al-Rahman, a name which later found its way into the Mahoundian religious scripture. Yathrib was a flourishing agricultural settlement with superior facilities and schools to instruct children on faith. The local Jewish community were more religious, educated and affluent than the pagans in Mecca.

The Quraysh became the protectors of the ancient holy place of Mecca, replacing the Khuza’a before them. Mahound’s grandfather Abdul Mutallib vowed to sacrifice one of his ten children. He consulted the idol of Hubal to find out which child he should choose. He threw arrows which pointed to his son Abd-Allah, the future father of Mahound. However, he was saved when a hundred camels were sacrificed in his place. Abdul Mutallib also brought the infant Mahound before the image.

On a cold evening, Mahound, Bakr, Talib and Uncle Abu Talib sat around a fire in the desert. All of the men wore black turbans, letting the ends hang down between their shoulder blades. They all wore a kameez; each in a different colour. Abu Talib and Mahound also wore a brown jubbah, an over-garment with wide sleeves that was open at the front, over their kameez as they could feel the cold more than the others sat nearer the fire. Mahound was an ambitious, short, handsome young man aged twenty-four years old. Bakr was taller, two years his junior and a very distant relation with a common ancestor. He was not as smart but having been born into a rich family in the Banu Taym clan, he had a bright future ahead of him. Talib was Abu Talib’s eldest son and Mahound’s cousin. Despite being around the same age as Mahound, his ambitions were not as grand as the others. He was simple, reliable and family-orientated. Abu Talib, the eldest was a father-figure to them all.

Mahound had a revered camel by the name of Ameera. She was prized, a princess among camels and Mahound treated her well, considering her a symbol that he was destined for success. She was a rare breed of Bactrian camel with two humps yet was particularly tall and very fast considering her size and weight. Mahound had left her tied up next to Omeed, who was the regular working camel of Bakr. Omeed was a common dromedary camel, with one hump, and was not the fastest camel but certainly good for heavy loads.

Ameera you look more splendid every time I see you, said Omeed.

Thank you Omeed. You look… Um… Does Bakr work you hard?

Very. But I hope soon I won’t have to. Bakr has come into a lot of wealth and influence.

That sounds great. You deserve an easier life after all the back-breaking hard work you’ve put in.

Tell me about it. Do you think these guys are destined for success?

I think so. Mahound treats me better than he does human beings.

Everyone treats you well when they want something.

Meanwhile, as the embers flickered in the dark night, Mahound and the other men picked locusts and lizards off the ground to eat as dinner and mused over days gone by.

Bakr, you’re a real lover of the camels, said Mahound smirking at his uncle.

Screw you Mahound, Bakr lisped as he drank from a goatskin filled with water and passed it on.

Do you remember why he was given the nickname Bakr? From all the camel backsides he’s probed.

The others looked at Bakr and smiled.

I love them and they love me. At least they appreciate good company!

Camel-fucker!

Hey, these camels will be sold in the market for meat. I’m just giving them extra seasoning, he said with his mouth full.

How does Bakr do foreplay? Tickle the camel under the chin.

Bakr was growing weary, Mahound, lay off the camels, I’m sure I remember hearing you talk about the benefits of drinking camel urine?

"For God’s sake Bakr, I only learned about it from you! You told me you caught an infection from messing around with those camels. You’re the one who tried camel urine and found the infection disappeared."

I think that was a miracle from almighty Allah to continue my fun with these camels! It even improved my libido!

You never quite explained how you ended up drinking camel urine? Mahound asked with a wry grin.

Um...

I’m honoured by the men you have all become, said Abu Talib interrupting to spare Bakr further embarrassment.

We couldn’t have got here without you, replied Talib proudly.

You took me in, said Mahound, You let me live at your house when me and Talib were eight years old. I’ll never forget that.

You are all intelligent, adept and ready to take the world by storm, said Abu Talib proudly, Just remember to make time for each other. Family comes first.

Mahound, do you remember when you were twelve and your relatives were in fear that a demon had possessed you? That was mad weren’t it?

Yes. Uncle took us to Syria with that trade caravan to get away from it.

Do you remember that monk, Bahira we met on that trip? He said the opposite. He said you could become a devout man? It’s a good life and you wouldn’t ever need to worry about money.

All these years have passed and I am still a burden on uncle, thought Mahound bitterly.

Yeah, I wouldn’t put much value on that. Nestorians forbid the worship of images. He knew my uncle was the guardian of Kaaba and was just trying to sell me his beliefs. I’m not that gullible. Besides, if there is a God he hasn’t exactly protected me, has he? Uncle is the only person that really looked out for me when my mother and father died. Apart from what he gave me, I haven’t got much to show for myself. But I promise you I’ll make something of myself. One way or another.

You are a good merchant, said Bakr, Excellent at sales. You could sell sand to a Bedouin. I wish I could read people as well as you do.

Mahound didn’t respond. The others carried on recollecting while Mahound thought about the past. The look on his face was that of someone trying to hide disappointment. Mahound had grown up poor and orphaned on the margins of a society controlled by tribal chiefs and trading merchants. He wished that he could hide his sadness in the darkness of the night. The fire reflected in his eyes, as he thought about the uncertain future that lay ahead.

The older woman

If you tell a big enough lie and tell it frequently enough, it will be believed.

― Adolf Hitler

I know what you’re going to ask and the answer is no, Abu Talib told Mahound as he eyed him pacing in his direction.

Uncle give me a chance to explain. I need to speak to you about Fakhitah, Mahound replied, I know she is your eldest daughter and you are as protective over her as you are the rest of us. I know that she is very dear to your heart. We grew up together and have always been close friends. I wish to ask your permission to marry her, asked Mahound expectantly.

Mahound’s question was met with an awkward silence. His uncle, Abu Talib was trying to look busy as he was feeding and washing a mule.

Mahound, I have already accepted an alternative proposal from Hubayra ibn Abi Wahb, said Abu Talib notably jaded in his response.

Uncle is marrying Fakhitah into the wealthy Makhzum clan, thought Mahound.

Why? Mahound asked resentfully.

Uncle, look at me. Why are you ignoring me and marrying her off to Hubayra? His eyes were red with anger.

Nephew, I didn’t think she’d be your… your type.

Uncle of course she is. Let me marry her.

I can’t… Anyway, they are our in-laws, and the noble is an equal for the noble.

Mahound stared at him for a while with a clenched fist until, he stormed off in exasperation and met up with Bakr to talk to him about what had happened.

Uncle can’t let her marry me because I have no money, Mahound told his friend.

Are you sure that’s the reason? Mahound you’re an excellent salesman. But let’s face it, you waste too much time procasturbating.

Procastinating?

Procasturbating— as in dreaming of sex and a better life, Bakr said as he shook his wrist.

Spend less time choking the chicken, spanking the monkey, badgering the witness or clearing your rifle. Put that energy to better use.

Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a dishonourable discharge every now and then.

Look you know your uncle has been struggling financially ever since taking on responsibility for you. He probably owed the Makhzum clan a favour or two.

Maybe but what does Hubayra have that I don’t?

Let’s see— He’s wealthy and wise. He’s influential. He’s a poet.

I guess… If you like that sort of thing. Maybe you’re right. I don’t know.

What’s the point in getting jealous? Just find your own success.

That’s easy for you to say! You’re just as rich and successful as Hubayra. Women fight for your affection. You have your whole life on track!

Come on Mahound, I wouldn’t say that.

It’s true. You already have a career as a cloth merchant and travel far and wide with the caravans. All thanks to being born into one of the rich Meccan merchant families. Your family ensured that you were literate, with a fondness for poetry. You have travelled on business to Yemen, Syria, and elsewhere. Even you would have made a better match for Fakhitah than me!

Stop beating yourself up Mahound. Self-pity won’t do you any good.

That’s easy for you to say. You can do anything you want when you have wealth and experience. Business is flourishing for you and you’re fast becoming the most powerful young man in Mecca. They even broke tradition and made you tribal chief during the lifetime of your father, Uthman Abu Quhafa. What do I have to show for myself? Nothing.

You’re right, I was given a head-start. But there is nothing that can stop you achieving your dreams except you.

I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll show them.

Yeah?

Just you wait and see, my friend.

That night Mahound had the strangest dream in which he met himself. But something was different. This guy has big hairy balls, he thought. It was like a parallel universe. This guy knows how to get things done! He wouldn’t have let Fakhitah get away. He carried around a whip because he knew how to get things done. He offered wealth to those who joined him and a sword for anyone who disagreed. He had beautiful virgins to tempt any man. At his feet were the skulls of those he routinely murdered. This guy is my God, he thought. I’ll name him Allah. Mahound would see him again whenever he felt insecure. Allah became his alter-ego.

Meanwhile, Uncle Abu Talib was on his way to speak with a lady called Khadijah who was a distant relation. Mahound had gone through so much heartache over Fakhitah’s marriage with Hubayra, he thought. If only he could find a way to help him get out of his despair.

Khadijah’s father, Khuwaylid ibn Asad, was a merchant. Khadijah had married twice before and had children from her previous marriages. Khadijah had become a very successful merchant. When the trade caravans of the Quraysh gathered for their summer journey to Syria or winter journey to Yemen, Khadijah’s caravan equalled the caravans of all other traders of the Quraysh put together.

You don’t travel with your trade caravans, do you Khadijah? Abu Talib asked.

I don’t, she replied, I normally employ others to trade on my behalf for a commission.

I’ve heard that you need an agent for a transaction in Syria. Why don’t you try your cousin Mahound? He is excellent at sales. He’s gained a lot of experience working with caravans in my family business. He is a superb businessman.

Mahound?

Yes, I can vouch for him. He’s talented and has huge potential.

Okay, I’ll hire him.

Khadijah, do me a favour and please do not mention I recommended him. He is very proud.

Yes, that’s fine. Khazimah, please give word to Mahound and tell him I will pay double the usual commission. Tell Maysarah that he will assist Mahound.

Thank you Khadijah, said Abu Talib, he gave her a warm hug before departing. As he left, he had a spring in his step as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

To complete his work, Mahound travelled to Syria. He was keen to prove himself. The desert was sandy but rocky in parts. Where there were boulders in the way of the caravans they had to go around them and take a different route entirely if the area was especially rocky. Where the sand was too fine for animal hooves they found a route where sand was more substantial. Some areas had salt flats where the ground was covered in the salt from lakes that had dried up long ago. Camel riders would need to dismount and lead camels through treacherous terrain without their burdens. Mysterious hooded Bedouin men quietly and covertly did surveillance and reconnaissance ensuring the safety of the caravans from potential dangers. Mahound bartered well and did excellent business. On completion