Hi Friends,
Ok now, I am vexed. I just finished posting something. And Cheetah has made very clear that no way, that can't stay, you've used it before. But sad as I may be, nothing spoil. I will just go ahead and make a new post. This time, it is a flash fiction. A very short narrative.
Please do read and make your statement about it. And upvote too, thanks.
Spirit of an Angel
Winged Adonis
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".