Oz Graffixation #3
Artist:
neevebrody
Man and God by blackchaps
Title: Man and God
Author: blackchaps
Fandom: Oz
Disclaimer: I own nothing. For fun, not profit.
Summary: Said is in trouble, even if he doesn’t know it yet.
Warnings: None.
*******
They threw him inside with less respect than one would give a dog. His dignity insisted he stay on his feet, but it was close, and he didn’t do them the courtesy of watching them slam the door. He stomped on the small curl of fear that lodged in his belly. They could not harm him, no matter what they did to his body.
It was foolish, but he wished for his clothes. They intended to shame him, modify his behavior with it, but they would not use Allah against him. He paced to the stone wall, clenching his fists to keep from covering himself. It did not matter that they weren’t watching. Allah was always watching.
It sustained him. The knowledge of his God in his life. Some people only worshiped when convenient, but he dedicated every day, every minute, to Allah. There was no place to hide, not that he would. Nowhere to run, not that he could. Allah saw all, knew all, in his life, and that was exactly how it should be.
He spun away, pacing from wall to wall, controlling himself with the movement. This isolation was nothing. Allah was with him. He had absolute faith in that.
Without his kufi, his head felt as if he were wearing one, reminding him that he wasn’t. It was a small thing, but with his head uncovered, nude, no prayer rug or beads, he felt… and he shoved it all away. They wanted him to feel this way. Adrift. Lost. Cut off from his brothers and his God.
But Allah was with him. He chanted it, returning to the farthest wall and keeping his back to the door. They had no power over him. Only Allah had power in his life. He did not need the trappings of his religion to maintain his bond with his God.
This silence and solitude would serve him well. He would emerge stronger, more sure of his God and his place in the world. The wall stared back at him, giving nothing, and he flinched when they clanged the door, sliding a tray inside. He betrayed himself when he asked them for the time, and the harsh laughter ensured he would not do it again.
He crossed to the tray, staring down at the sandwich, refusing to touch. It was pork tenderloin from the smell, and he shoved the tray with his foot as close to the door as possible. They were not ignorant. They were cruel, and he no longer felt surprise at it.
Prayer would sustain him like it always did, but there was no way for him to find east. They had brought him down stairs and through long, twisting hallways, and he would not wish for a better sense of direction. He picked a corner at random and went to kneel there. He would pray in his usual fashion, and Allah would forgive him any mistakes.
When the lights went out, he eased his aching knees and took comfort in the dark.
She was so beautiful. An oasis of goodness in a sea of filth, and her hand reached to him. To him. The touch upon his body sent fire racing along his skin, and he drew a breath of it, letting it burn him. Her face was illuminated with the light they denied him, and he wanted it for his own.
Wanted more. Needed it. Needed her.
She would be his, and he would love her before all others. He arched, hands grasping, feeling her soft skin upon him. So good. They would be so good together. Love for him shined from her eyes, and he fell into it, gasping for more of her.
Pleasure from her willing body tore across him, leaving him breathless, awed, and craving. She was perfection, beautiful in all things, and he would not give her up for anyone. She would blossom in his care, like the most perfect flower.
He stroked into her glory, trembling, shaking in his need before her. She touched him, showing him all that they could be.
The light slammed into him, jerking him awake and he spilled his seed onto his chest, crying out from lust. Her lovely face swam before his eyes; his cock twitching in his hand a final time. It felt so good, and she was perfect in every way. He shuddered out a deep breath, smiling.
Another breath, a tray slid inside and laughter jolted him. The truth hit him like a fist to the chest.
Sin. He had sinned, and now he cried out from horror. Disgust filled him, demanding he clean himself and beg for Allah’s mercy, but he sat, watching the come dribble down.
He was filth.
He had put her before… everyone… even his God.
He saw it clearly now. What he had done. His pride and lust had betrayed him, showing him for the man he really was. He raised his hands up, eyes to the ceiling, and… nothing. No prayers. No words. Only silence where there had always been so much to fill him.
Banging on the door made him flinch, and he curled into a ball to hide his despair from their prying eyes. He would not look at them, willing them away and hating that they saw him stripped of his God.
Allah.
Time slipped away from him, despair giving way to a true sense of emptiness. Without his God, he had nothing. He was nothing, and he saw the truth that his brothers had tried to tell him. The walls reminded him that he was dirt, and he had no right to pride and conceit.
The glory was to Allah. Only Allah.
He managed to kneel in the proper position and prostrate himself to his God. Taking a deep breath, he waited, and he would wait forever if need be for his God to return to him.
When it came, it blew through him like water pouring through the desert, bringing new life and hope. He lifted his head, beginning to pray, finding the words in his heart. Relief made him giddy, and he had faith that he was forgiven. He would do better. His pride and arrogance in himself was gone, and he would lead no longer.
All glory to Allah.
********
the end