Hi Friends,
This season seems to inspire a lot of spirituality. But then, spirituality in the 21st century has a lot underlying it. Way too much. So, you are wondering where I am headed at? Well, read this flash fiction and you will understand just what I mean.
Happy Boxing Day.
THE SPIRIT OF AN ANGEL
Rahman had two options. One, to never again climb atop a woman only to have his passion and penis shrink in dry disgrace; two, to walk into that quaky wooden structure near the mosque hosting one Prophet God'sproof who worked miracles.
He chose the latter.
....The prophet, swaying to deaf beats, rambled about Rahman being bound by myriads of manacles. Staphylococcus... Hernia... Gonorrhea... Syphilis.
"You need urgent attention. Only an angel can raise your dead manhood back to life."
Without thinking, Rahman suggested Angel Jibril: his shame was best beheld by a familiar.
Though warned to close his eyes, Rahman couldn't help but watch and envy the prophet's bulgy beneath, dangling left-right as he conjured the spirit of Angel Jibril. So, when he felt his zipper slid open, it didn't occur to him as it did others, who thought they felt the wind splash on their faces or whiteness shawl their eyes, that it was indeed Angel Jibril servicing his crotch.
For all he saw were dark callused fingers moaningly roaming his genitalia, like black mambas slithering on a rock. As if asking penance for ditching Maghrib only to fall into the hands of Shaytan, Rahman whispered exasperatingly "Allahu Akbar".