Red's CD Project Part 9

Note: Well folks we continue our slow descent into hell with a couple interesting pieces this week. When I go back through and do an edit of this when its finished, I'll probably need to add a some time between the beginning of the story and these segments, especially the second one here, to make it a little more realistic. 

Disc 2

Track 7
Radio Nowhere
Bruce Springsteeen
Magic

Just searchin’ for a world with some soul

Abdul woke with a scream and sweat beading at his brow. He jumped from his bed and looked up toward his window. The sky outside was a dark purple and transitioning to a blue. In his dream, there had been a sajada – a beautiful one with vibrant green and blues and an intricate design. He knew that prayer rug. It was the favorite of his close friend’s Jaleels. One his mother had given him before he left for America.

Jaleels was an Iman, the leader of Abdul’s mosque, and a peaceful man. A man that nobody, even Christians, could find reason to dislike.

Jaleels had not been in Abduls dream, only his sajada. It was laid out on a muddy turf and in the distance the sun was peaking off the eastern horizon. In front of the rug was a gap in the ground, a hole that dropped down and out of sight of his dream’s eye.

In the middle of the rug was a pool of thick, red liquid. It was blood and as his dream zoomed in, he could see that it was smeared all over of the rug.

“They got him,” Abdul whispered thinking of the dream as he stood in the cell. “They got him.”

Tears burst to his eyes as he fell to the floor in prayer.

“Allah, please hear me,” Abdul wailed. “Please, I beg answer me.”

The cell, the jail, everything was silent.

“Not my friend. Please Allah, comfort me,” Abdul begged and pressed his nose to the floor.

Minutes passed and it grew lighter outside of his cell window. There was not even a clock to tick away the seconds as they turned to minutes.

Then it started up.

“Hssss.” It came from outside the cell yet echoed off every wall and bounced around Abdul’s ears.

“Hssss.”

“I hear it now,” Abdul said raising his head. “I hear it well.”

For all these months, Abdul had ignored the obvious answer to his separation from Allah. The infidels were silencing his God; they were muting him from answering Abdul’s prayers. There was only one cure for this disease.

“Jihad.” Abdul said and stood up.


Disc 2
Track 8
Square One
Tom Petty
Highway Companion

Last time through I hid my tracks. So well I could not get back.

Mary didn’t think she was going to make it this time. She awoke and felt the urge swell up in her belly and then rush toward her throat. She only managed a quick glance at the red numbers on her alarm clock, which read “5:01” in big numerals and “a.m.” in small letters in the right hand corner, before she made a dash from her bed to the door. Down the hallway and into the bathroom, she switched the light on and made a dive for the toilet as a stream of vomit shot out from behind her lips. That was all that came out, but she wretched for a good 10 minutes. Tears ran down from her eyes and her hair fell in front of her face.

After lying next to toilet for several minutes, she managed to stand up and get to the sink. Above the sink was a mirror and she saw how bloodshot her eyes looked. She washed off her face and fumbled for her toothbrush.

“That’s three mornings in a row, Mary,” the voice made Mary jump and drop the toothbrush into the sink.

“Jesus, Mom.” Mary picked up the toothbrush and continued to scrub. Her mother wearing a pink nightgown and a pair of bunny slippers was standing in the doorway. Her wrinkles and frazzled hair from sleeping made her look 10-years older.
“You know what this is, don’t you?” Her mom’s eyes studied Mary.

“Mom.”

“Look, don’t you think you at least should get it checked out.”

“I suppose.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“No. Not yet.”

Disc 2
Track 9
Coconut Skins
Damien Rice
9

Tell them God just dropped by to forgive our sins and relieve us our doubt.

The first splashes of orange hit the eastern horizon and Hal looked down at his watch. He could feel fatigue in his bones and sleep tempting his eyes to close. It had been 10 minutes and the guy still hadn’t stopped praying.

He called it “fajr” meaning pre-dawn and begged him the entire drive back to allow him to perform this rite before meeting Allah.

At the time, Hal figured the prayer would take a couple seconds and he’d take care of business quickly and then get some sleep before going into work. Instead, the prayer dragged on and on, as the man knelt on top of the brightly colored rug he had brought along. Hal still thought it funny, but this man seemed absolutely prepared for this moment. It’s like at any point in his life, the man thought that death might come to his door hours before sun up, threaten him at gunpoint and drive him to the middle of nowhere. He begged to bring the rug and clutched it to his chest the entire drive here.

It was as admirable as it was absurd.

Up and down, the man went while chanting lines in Arabic. Every time, he stood up Hal thought it was finally time to end this. Instead, the man burst into a line and fell back to the rug.

Finally, the man stood looked to the right and said “Assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullah.” He turned to the left and repeated the saying. Then he turned around and faced Hal.

“What did that last part mean?”

“Peace be upon you and God’s blessings.”

“Hmmm. That took a little longer than I would have liked.”

“Prayer is an offering to Allah. We do it at least five times each day. Do you not wish to please your God? Do you not make him an offering?”

“Well, my man, there’s only one kind of offering that guys like me make that God seems to take much notice of.”

A peculiar look came over the man’s face.

“Qabil?”

Hal smiled.

“You bet.”

Hal thrashed forward bringing the stone down on the right side of the man’s face above his eye. Hal heard a crack and a popping sound. The man fell to his knees on the rug, his eyeball dropped on it moments after. The man let out screams of pain.

“Doe Allah hear you now? I think he does and I think he meant this to happen.”

Hal brought the stone down three more times on the back of the man’s head till he was silent. A pool of blood formed on top of the rug.

Hal walked over to his car and retrieved the Polaroid camera he kept in there for crime scenes. He snapped a couple shots like he had his first sacrifice then rolled him into the hole. He half expected the earth to burp after receiving its meal.

He filled the hole and then went up to the house to get an hour or two of sleep.