Okay. Here goes, then...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ibrahim in Felarya
[ a story of Felarya ]
بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
"Truthfulness leads to righteousness, and righteousness leads to Paradise. And a man keeps on telling the truth until he becomes a truthful person..."
-Hadith of the Prophet Mohammed
"For truth is always strange; Stranger than fiction..."
-Lord Byron
"Why shouldn't truth be stranger than fiction? Fiction, after all, has to make sense."
-Mark Twain
~
Ibrahim Saunders woke up in the heat and damp of the Felaryian jungle, and realized that he was very likely not in New Jersey anymore.
The vines, the flowers in vivid and bright colors, and the overwhelming humidity in what had previously been a cool October day served as a clue to his change in location. The trees soared far overhead, so tall that it looked from the ground as though their tops had grown together into one massive shadowed canopy. He squinted as streams of sunlight poured in through the few gaps in the leaves. It had been night when he'd swerved off the Garden State Parkway. How long had he been unconscious?
One by one, he moved his limbs, from his shoulders and hips down to his fingers and toes. He brought his hands up to his face and felt everything, raking them back through short, brown hair. Everything moved, he realized; he had no head injuries and nothing had been broken in the collision. He frowned, still angry at his situation-- the pickup driving the wrong way down the road, the feeling of the tires lifting off the ground. He turned the car too quickly, he realized; it's weight and momentum had flipped it over sideways and sent it tumbling down the embankment and into the trees.
He was alive, though, when he should be dead. Alhamdulillah, he said to himself quietly, then groaned as he pushed himself up off of his back to sit upright. He was here, in one piece. The question was, he thought to himself, where was here and how did he get to it?
His thoughts were interupted by the sound of something rustling a short distance away. The ground beneath him seemed to rumble. An earthquake? he wondered to himself-- it seemed impossible, but given the situation, anything at all seemed possible.
He was surprised when a shadow fell over him; even more so as a giant hand closed tightly around his body. The ground began to fall away, his body pulled upwards into the trees. Everything inside Ibrahim felt pulled downwards, his stomach churning from both the velocity and fear. All of these sensations came together in his head, and so, he did the first thing he-- an amateur sport fighter, a young man who had worked hard to build strong, lean muscles-- could think to do.
He screamed like a frightened child.
"Geeze, you're loud," said a voice from high above him. It was feminine, soft, much like the fist closed firmly around him. He looked around, trying to find the arm it was attached to, to follow it back to its owner.
He hung in dumbfounded awe of what was there. The woman was enormous, her bare torso easily bigger than several of the tree trunks she stood amongst, put together. A curtain of long, blond hair fell around her head, while massive blue eyes stared out at him, the pink lips beneath
them curled at the ends in amusement. "And you humans wonder why something always catches you..."
"What's going on?!" Ibrahim said. He squirmed in her grip, trying desperately to pull his arms free and try to escape. To where? he wondered. The ground was frighteningly far away, and any fall from this distance was sure to be fatal. He looked back at her, and felt himself tremble. "Who are you?!"
"I'm Crisis," she answered with a shrug of her shoulders, "and you're lunch."
Ibrahim's mouth hung open in horror as he watched Crisis' open wide, her hand pulling him closer to her waiting maw. Beams of sunlight shone over her face, illuminating the fate the lay in store for him: her tongue was wet and slick with saliva, teeth the size of boulders surrounding it. At the back, her throat seemed to open up wide, waiting to drag him down into the deadly abyss of her stomach.
He forced his eyes shut, unable to watch. He was about to die, a death from which there was no hope of escape. He had avoided being pulverized by an out-of-control pick-up truck only to become a meal for some... some monster. He breathed deeply, trying to maintain some dignity. Ya-Allah, he said as he felt her hot breath blow against him. Forgive me, have mercy on me, console me, elevate me, guide me, grant me well-being and provide for me...
He prayed, prayed anything he could think of, every surah, every ayat he could summon from memory. He suddenly wished he'd tried to remember more, and laughed at the lunacy of thinking such a thought mere moments from death. It's a little late now, he thought, and continued to let the words he could remember spill out of his mouth.
He waited for it-- waited for what would surely happen: his body hitting her tongue, before being shoved back to either be pulverized on her teeth, or simply slide down into her throat to disappear inside of her. What was taking so long? He wondered, still able to feel his own heart beat. Am I alive? Am I dead?
His eyes opened, the jungle slowly coming back into focus. He was further away from the woman... it was only now that he noticed that her body ended at her hips, her weight supported on a tail as thick as a subway tunnel... who stood there blinking with him held out at arm's length. "Hey," she said, and leaned forward. "What were you singing?"
Singing? "I... what're you talking about?"
"Just now," said Crisis. "you were singing, weren't you? It sounded like you were. What was it?"
It slowly dawned on him that she was mistaking his prayer for song. "It wasn't a song. It was a prayer. I thought I was going to die, so I was praying."
She nodded slowly. "It was very pretty. I don't think I've heard anything like it here. At least, not that I remember. And I usually remember things like that."
Here. She seemed intelligent. Surely, she had to know where they were. He was desperate to know: the sooner he could leave such a frightening place, the better. "Where exactly is here?" he asked, calling out loudly to be sure that she could hear him. "And can you put me down? It's... I'm feeling sort of sick being up in the air like this."
"If I put you down, will you run away?"
Of course I would! he thought to himself, then shook his head. He was clearly not meant to die today, at least not to this snake-woman. Crisis, he reminded himself. Her name was Crisis. She at least seemed willing to speak to him, and maybe even to help him. "I swear, in the name of Allah, I will not run away from you. Please put me down."
She nodded and began to descend, her tail spreading out below her to lower them both to the jungle floor. Her fingers relaxed and let him drop the last few inches to the ground, where he stumbled before regaining his balance. "So," he said after taking a deep breath of the humid air. "Where exactly is here?"
Crisis lay herself on the ground in front of him, resting her chin on her hands. "You're in Felarya," she said, "in the jungle south of the Great Tree. I'm Crisis... sorry, I can't remember if I introduced myself. Who are you?"
He sat down on the ground, lowering his eyes. Whatever she was, she still looked human enough that it was improper for him to look at her bare body. "I'm Ibrahim, though back home, a lot of my friends call me Abe. Either is fine for you to use."
"I'm going to guess you're not from around here," Crisis said, tapping a finger against the ground.
Ibrahim nodded. "Exactly why I asked where we were. Do you know how to get to New Jersey from here?" He paused, and frowned. "Do... you even know where New Jersey is?"
His heart sank at how quickly she shook her head. "I've never heard of it."
"Have you ever heard of the United States of America?"
She shook her head again. He swallowed hard, his body tensing as he asked her one more question. "What about Earth?"
"Oh!" Crisis said, her mouth opening into a wide smile for a moment, lifting herself up slightly, before settling back against the ground. "Lots of people come here from Earth. But..."
"What?" Ibrahim said, voice small and weak.
Crisis bowed her head and closed her eyes. "Most of them never make it home. I don't think I've heard of one who has."
He could feel himself wither, and drew his arms and legs close to his chest. Most of them never make it home, her words echoed in his head. Most of them probably met an end like what he narrowly avoided. Why hadn't he? He tried hard not to cry, pressing his forehead against his knees. There had to be a reason. He wouldn't still be here without a reason.
~
They walked; Crisis had convinced him that it probably wasn't safe to sit in any one place for very long. To do so, in the middle of the jungle, meant certain death. "We can head towards the Great Tree. I live there with my friend Anna, and you can stay until you decide what you want to do," she had told him.
At first, he didn't want to go. What did it matter, he asked himself. If there really was no way back, and he was trapped in this jungle forever, what would he do? He had grown up in modern civilization, with all of its trappings. Not to mention he didn't know what was edible for him, here. Then there was the matter of shelter-- any home big enough for something like Crisis would surely be far too big for him to be comfortable in. He could dimly remember how to purify water from his years in Boy Scouts.
Beyond that, he didn't know. Were there any other people here who hadn't become food for something else, he wondered to himself. How would he pray? With no Makkah, not even an Earth to use as a reference point, which way would he face? What would he do with however many years he would have to live here, with the idle hours that weren't spent eating, sleeping, and trying not to die. Assuming there were any idle hours, he thought morbidly.
They spent what felt like hours in silence, Crisis slightly ahead of him, while he walked a few steps behind and to the side. Behind her, to avoid seeing her naked body, and beside her, to avoid being overtaken by and crushed under her tail. How exactly do you strike up conversation with a monster?
Crisis, however, broke the quiet. "So," she started, looking over her shoulder at him, "who's Allah?"
Ibrahim blinked, not expecting the question. "Sorry, what?"
"The name you swore on, earlier, when you promised you wouldn't run away from me. Who is it? Is it your king, or ruler, or... whatever... back in New Jersey?"
He couldn't help but laugh, bowing his head to try and keep her from feeling humiliated by her question. "It's the name I call God," he said. He lifted his head as he spoke, to look Crisis in the eyes. "When I was praying, earlier, when I asked for all the different things I asked for, that's who I was praying to."
She nodded slowly. "I'm going to assume you've never heard that name before today, have you?" he asked, and was unsurprised when she nodded again.
"I've heard the names of lots of gods and goddesses... angels and demons, spirits, but never that one." Crisis turned her attention back to the way ahead of her. "I guess no one who believes in him has ever come here before."
At least not long enough to settle down, Ibrahim thought.
They were silent again for a while after that. "Is he good, or evil?" Crisis said, looking back at him some time later.
"It's sort of... complicated."
"How do you mean?"
The two of them reached a gap in the tree cover, the jungle giving way to a small clearing. The sky had grown dark, out of view through the canopy. "Can we camp here for the night?" Ibrahim asked as he paused at the edge of the treeline. "I need time to... to pray. Besides, I'm starting to feel worn out. As long as you feel like we'd be safe here, we'll camp, and I'll explain."
Crisis looked around-- he could see her turning her head left and right, tilting her head one way and then the other, to take in their surroundings. "We should be okay, sure. I'll circle around us, just in case something decides to pay a visit."
~
Ibrahim sat cross-legged on the ground with a grin on his face as the light of his camp fire illuminated the both of them strangely. At least I could remember that much from Scouting, he thought to himself. Alhamdulillah for that.
Crisis had to draw close to the fire to feel its warmth, her face a few feet away from Ibrahim, on the other side of the crackling blaze. Despite the heat that started to fill the cool nighttime air, he couldn't help but shiver. The last time he had been this close to the naga, she was prepared to make a meal out of him.
"You were going to explain what you said earlier?" she said, startling him back to the present.
He shoved the thought of Crisis devouring him out of mind and looked up. "Oh... about whether Allah is good, or evil, you mean?"
"Yeah, that's right."
He sat deep in thought, mind trying to approach the question the same way Crisis was, to think of an answer that would make sense to her. He had been asked the same question once in a philosophy class at his college, and had referenced writings on the nature of good and evil that the naga had neither read, nor heard of, before. He needed to distil the meaning from what he had said in class, to make the ideas simple, and clear.
"Well, think about this fire. Fire can do good things, and fire can do evil things. I'm using fire right now to warm us up, and give us light that we can see one another by. It also lets us see if anything is watching us, so we know to escape if need be." He paused to let the words sink in. "Fire can also be used to hurt people, and destroy things. Fire can level a house, burn up a person, destroy books and film and, if it's not enough, any sort of record of thoughts or any kind of valuables."
"Now, Allah created the ability for fire to exist. At least, that's what I believe. His creation encompasses both things that are good, and things that are evil. A hurricane or earthquake can be destructive and kill and ruin whole cities, but that destruction can also bring a community together to heal and rebuild. An abusive parent can cause so much suffering to a child, but that torment shows the child what evil is, so that hopefully, with help, they can see that evil in others and prevent others from suffering as they did."
Crisis stared at him, puzzled. "So... He's both. And neither."
"Yes, because He created the possibility for both to exist, by creating the universe. Thus, people are responsible for using the good in what He has created, and He urges us to do so." He took a deep breath. "Even when we suffer, we are still grateful to him, and try to make the most of what's happened."
She paused to consider this, biting down lightly against her lip. "You don't blame Him, or feel angry at Him, that I was going to eat you?"
He had hoped she wouldn't bring it up again. "No, I don't," he said, voice faltering slightly.
"You don't sound too honest about it."
"I was scared, and it still scares me to think about it," he said. He also thought that she was some sort of monster, that anything that was able to eat someone alive like that was a monster, but thought better of saying it out loud. "But if that was Allah's will, then... well, I can't exactly do anything about it. I can only do what I'm capable of doing, and I'm not capable of telling an almighty, all-knowing and all-powerful deity what He can and cannot do."
"Doesn't that make you feel weak?" she said, one eyebrow lifting up into her bangs. "That something that you can't even see is in control of your life like that? That, at any moment, He could just decide not to like you anymore, and kill you?"
"Allah's not like that, though, doesn't have feelings and whims like a person does. He knows exactly what will happen to me, because He can see the past, present and future all at once, and is completely just, as well as completely loving and forgiving-- because being just is knowing when punishment is necessary, and when a person can be forgiven. As long as I am sincere, and try to make right the things I do wrong, I can be forgiven. He does nothing without a reason, even if we don't know what that reason is."
"...Do you think He sent you here?"
It was Ibrahim's turn to sit in silence. Why was he here? To have this conversation, with this creature? For something else? The uncertainty was a gaping void in his thoughts, one that made his stomach turn. "I don't know," he finally said, his voice much quieter than it had been.
Crisis shrugged. "Maybe you should ask him."
"It's not quite that simple," he said, head bowed.
"It never seems to be simple, with you. Religion is complicated."
Crisis pressed her hands down into the ground, arching her back until she sighed in relief. As she settled down, Ibrahim watched as she yawned. He tensed at her open mouth, but tried his best not to look away. I should give her the chance, he told himself. If I was going to die because of her, it would have happened already.
The naga rested back on the ground and laid her head down on her arms. "You should rest," she said, drowsily. "We have a lot of walking to do tomorrow."
"Right," He said, laying out on his back, his eyes staring up into the night sky. Walking, he thought to himself, was probably going to take up much of the rest of his time, for the forseeable future. "Goodnight, Crisis."
"Goodnight, Abe."
~
Crisis was gone when he woke up; the only indication that the giant naga had been more than just a figment of his imagination was the circular track pressed into the soil all around him. He wondered whether it was a good or bad thing; and settled on bad. He hadn't walked more than a few feet before she had managed to catch him. How far would he get without her before another predator tracked him down?
He shook his head, and looked around. The sun was already on it's way up into the sky; well past time for fajr. Like it mattered for the moment, he thought to himself, cynically, before feeling guilty. As soon as he was out of danger, he would make the effort to remember. For now, though, it was best to find where his guide had disappeared to.
He began to push his way back into the jungle, ears and eyes at attention for any sign of Crisis. He was hardly a few feet into the overgrowth, however, when a shrill, frightened scream rang out. He braced himself against a tree, gaze sweeping wildly for the direction the cry had come from. Someone was in danger! he thought to himself, and hurried off, jumping over rotting trunks as though they were hurdles.
"Hang on! I'm coming!" he called out, the screams growing in volume as he approached. The voice was a woman's, by the sound of it, and desperate. Something must have gotten a hold of her, he thought to himself, and only then thought that the something in question could possibly be much larger and much stronger than he was. What would he do th--
He stopped suddenly beneath one of the trees, and looked up in horror. Before him was Crisis, the towering naga tilting her head back as she trapped the woman at her waist, between her smiling lips. Her victim thrashed violently, hands pressed hard at the flesh around her, but nothing could seemingly overcome the strength of the naga's jaw.
Crisis' mouth opened quickly, letting the woman drop inside. Ibrahim watched her cheeks bulge as the naga rolled the woman around on her tongue, before finally watching her throat swell as she swallowed. His hand held tight to the tree he leaned against, suddenly feeling weak in the knees, his stomach turning. How could she...!?
She turned around then and blinked as she looked down, spotting him as she licked her lips clean of the woman's sweat. "Oh, Abe!" she said cheerfully and waved to him. "Morning! I was going to come back and get you in a moment, to see about..."
"How could you?" Ibrahim cried. His hands tightened into fists at his sides; his whole body shook in horror and outrage at Crisis. "That was a human being! Why did you do that, Crisis?! Why?!"
She shrugged, and lowered herself down to bring herself closer to eye level with him. "Humans are tasty," she said, one hand rubbing her stomach slowly. "They're actually pretty good for nagas. Not to mention filling. She'll probably last me a bit, until this afternoon, then I'll probably really need to..."
"She wasn't food!" He gasped for breath between every sentence, and stepped closer to her. "She was a person, with a life, and... she could have had a family, Crisis! Friends! She had parents, maybe brothers and sisters... and you just ate her like you were picking food out of a buffet!"
"Because that's how this place works." Her face was serious, more serious than he had seen her be to this point. Her eyes nearly closed, her head bowed as her voice dropped low, its volume quieter than it had been moments before. "She, and a lot of other people like her, know what the risk is when they step into this jungle."
"That doesn't make it right." He turned his back to her, trying to think of anything else but the sound of the woman screaming in fear.
Crisis shook her head, and sighed, moving up alongside Ibrahim. "Maybe you'll understand, one day. Come on," She waved her hand back towards the jungle he had rushed through. "Let's go find you something to eat. You'll need it once we get going."
He looked up at her, and considered her for a moment. Abandoning her at this point would be fatal; he would become food just as easily as the woman she devoured had been. "Alright," he finally said, reluctantly. "Let's go."
~
They were quiet again for most of the day. A silent understanding had developed, and Crisis decided not to bring up her meal that morning in fear of upsetting Ibrahim again. She excused herself discretely in the afternoon to hunt, her stomach full with an scouting party when she rejoined him an hour or so later.
"Are you finished?" he said, his back to her. He pushed at some pebbles on the ground with a stick, tracing out a map of now far-away New Jersey.
She nodded. "I can't help but wonder, if I'll pop back up on the menu, should nothing turn up when you go looking for a meal," he said, head still down.
"You're a person. I don't eat people."
"You make a very odd distinction."
She rolled her eyes skyward. "Well, I think it makes sense." She settled herself onto the ground, her elbows beside Ibrahim as her arms propped her head up. "Can I say something?"
He sighed, and slowly turned towards her, keeping his eyes down. He couldn't help but blush at the heat coming off her body, realizing her breasts were hanging only a dozen or so feet above his head. "What is it?"
"You were saying last night that... that your god is responsible for good things, and bad things. Right?"
He nodded. "I can't survive without eating humans, and things like that. While it's bad for them, in the end it helps keep me al--"
"Don't try to use my faith to justify what you did... what you keep doing!" Ibrahim jumped to his feet, spinning around on his heels to face Crisis. "Nothing justifies killing someone, and certainly not to eat their body as food!"
"Abe!" She reached down, trying to scoop him up off the ground, only to flinch at the pin-prick sensation of his open palm striking her hand.
"No!" He took a deep breath, the disgust he'd felt about her at first finally boiling up to the surface. "I couldn't bring myself to say it before, because I wanted to give you the chance. You'd spared my life-- I don't know why, aside from it being Allah's will. But... you keep... you're nothing but a monster, Crisis! A horrible monster, without emotion, without compassion!"
He turned and started off into the jungle, shoving vines out of his way. "Abe, wait!" the naga called out to him, but he refused to listen to her anymore. He had made up his mind-- he would find his own way home, or die in the attempt. But he would not keep the company of something so inhuman, anymore.
He looked back one final time, a look of absolute anger on his face. "You want to talk about God, Crisis? Then hear this! Whoever kills one person, it is as though they have killed all of humankind!" He closed his eyes tightly. "I can't be the friend of someone who makes a habit of that. I just... can't."
He continued to run, her cries only grew louder the further he got from her. Eventually, the distance between them made them fade away to nothing, leaving him with no sound except the background noise of the Felaryian jungle. He was alone again, as he had been when he first woke up in this world. There were other humans in this world, now, he knew. Surely, he would find someone else in the nightmarish world that could help him.
~
Ibrahim tread carefully through the dark jungle, jumping at every loud noise, at every rustle of the trees and screech of an animal. Felarya really was wild, he thought to himself, more wild than much of the Earth. Maybe the most remote jungles of South America or Africa were like this, but even those knew their share of humanity's touch.
This place, though, knew little to nothing of human hands. Because they disappear into it, never to return. He shivered at his own thought and hung his head. Felarya was reawakening his inner cynic, a voice inside his head he would have rather had stayed quiet. I will not let this world take away what I have struggled so hard to earn, he said, steeling himself as he pressed further through the jungle.
He stopped, eyes scanning his surroundings as he heard a sound rush through the trees-- one from one direction, and then from another. He turned slowly in place, watching the shadows. I'm surrounded, he thought, and felt around on the ground for something sharp to defend himself with until he found a sharp shard of rock. This will have to do.
The trees rustled again, and from out of the darkness stepped a massive wolf, five times his height to the shoulder. He stepped back, holding the shard in front of him defensively. For what good it would do me, he thought darkly, staring with dismay at his knife. The worst it could do is scratch this monster!
The trees moved again, from behind him this time. Another of the giant, six-legged wolves was approaching, its low growling filling the air. Panting mouths, tongues wet with saliva, seemed ready to capture him, with dozens of sharp teeth that could easily snap him in half.
His heart began to race as he tried to get out from between the two beasts, his eyesight jumping back and forth between the two. I'm surrounded.. he thought to himself with dismay. Standing across from one another, either of them could crush him underfoot, or snap him off the ground in their jaws. He closed his eyes, holding his knife tightly. He wouldn't simply give in, he swore to himself. He would go down fighting to the last, hoping that God's mercy would allow him to die instantly, instead of suffering indefinitely.
"Ibrahim!"
He turned around as the sound of snapping branches filled the air, the pained howl of another of the wolf-monsters-- a third he hadn't seen yet-- went sailing through the air. From where it had been stood Crisis, her body bruised, but standing resolute amongst the trees. "Get out of here, now! Go, before you're killed!"
Before he could answer, the two dogs rushed at Crisis, sensing bigger prey in their midst. She managed to swing away from one, only to have the other slam into her, naga and kensha beast rolling to the ground. She growled, an animal-like sound he had never heard from her before, and watched as she grabbed its forelegs and flipped it over backwards, where it hit the ground with a might crash.
Why had she followed him? He stood in awe, their shadows in the moonlight stretching out over him. The other kensha beast had charged at Crisis, shoving her down again with its weight. She wrestled with both of them, screaming in pain as they bit into her arm, twisting and pulling violently at it. He had called her a monster, called her horrible, and she still followed him.
Guilt ate at his heart. If he had stayed with Crisis, they wouldn't be in danger; his anger had placed them both in great danger. Crisis' struggle against the monsters pinning her down sprayed a shower of her blood across the jungle floor, droplets soaking into his clothing. She could be torn limb-from-limb, all because he was so quick to condemn.
She had to know this, as soon as she saw them circling him, and she still came to his rescue. He hung his head in shame, remembering the other half of the ayat he had shouted at her hours before. ...And whoever saves one person, it is as though they have saved all of humankind. As he watched Crisis struggled to rise, her hands seeking out the kensha beasts' throats to crush them, he had no doubt in his mind that the verse in question wasn't limited to the life and death of his own species.
He had to save her. No matter the danger, he had to save her.
He rushed forward at one of the monsters, right at one of its hind legs. The stone in his hand was sharp, and while he doubted it would cut deep, it would be enough to cause pain. Anything to distract, to give Crisis the chance to fight back.
With a passioned scream, he threw himself at the beast's ankle, jamming his stone knife in as deep as he could. Above, it howled in pain, stumbling backwards, it's injured leg buckling and nearly kicking back at Ibrahim.
Crisis felt the weight lift from her chest and bolted upright, her good arm throwing the other kensha beast into a tree. Rolling onto her side, she reached out with both arms, cringing in pain as she forced the monster to the jungle floor. Its legs kicked in the air uselessly, her hands pressing against its throat until it stopped moving.
Ibrahim looked to the other, which lay in a pile at the bottom of the tree it had been thrown into. It, too, was motionless, body flopped over onto its side. The impact must have broken its spine, he realized before turning back to Crisis. The naga had sat back up on her tail, one arm hanging limp at her side, covered in blood. "Your arm..." he called out, hurrying towards her.
She looked down at him and smiled. "I'll be fine. It's poison, but I can..." She winced in pain, falling forwards slightly before leaning back away, to keep from falling over. "I'll be okay. I just need to rest, and it'll heal."
She moved slowly over the ground, nodding for Ibrahim to follow. "If you still want to come, my home's not too much further ahead. We can probably make it in an hour or two."
Ibrahim joined her at her side, hand resting against the bulk of her tail. He had been wrong to judge her, and resolved to be patient, to understand her better-- and to keep his distance when she fed. "Of course. I wouldn't want to end up in danger, again."
Crisis laughed and led the way forward, looking ahead. "Yeah... let's try to save any other adventures for another day, alright?"
~
It wasn't long before Crisis made him feel ill again. "Are you really sure those are safe? It just looks... disgusting..."
She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Would I do it if it weren't safe?" She paused, pressing a finger to her lips. "Actually, maybe you shouldn't answer that."
He turned his head away and took a deep breath. He couldn't bring himself to watch the tiny, moving bulges working their way up and down Crisis' arm, the sight of her skin bulging in all the wrong places churning his stomach. She'd assured him, though, that the beetles would draw the poison the kensha beasts-- the wolf monsters that had attacked them, as he learned-- had attacked her with as they clawed at her skin.
He instead turned his attention to the massive cluster of trees ahead. Towering over the rest of the jungle was a single, enormous tree, its branches spreading out over miles, its trunk easily large enough around to cover his entire hometown. All around it, smaller trees clustered tightly around, their branches weaving together to form cathedral-sized rooms-- all of them easily large enough to accomodate a creature as large as Crisis. "This is where you live?" he said, awed by the scale of everything.
"Yep!" Crisis' personality seemed to be recovering faster than her body. Her voice was cheerful once again, only betraying her situation when she moved her injured arm and gasped in pain. "Anna and I both live here. It's easy to protect, and pretty cozy..." Her smiled brighten as she hurried ahead around a corner. "Hey, Anna!"
Ibrahim followed behind her, and stared up at the other woman within the next room. A naga just as large as Crisis leaned over a work table formed from a shelf of twisted tree trunks, the counter covered in machinery visible from the ground. The woman looked down at her work with a scowl as Crisis approached, letting her bright pink bangs cover her eyes. "So help me Crisis, I will beat you with this wrench if you come any closer. I am so close to fixing this, and if you break it..."
Crisis looked over Anna's shoulder, cocking an eyebrow at the tool held between Anna's fingers. "It's not that big," she said, confused by the other naga's threat. "That won't exactly hurt, much."
Anna stared down at the wrench and sighed, setting it aside on the table. She turned, metal rattling against stone as the ring around the end of her tail clattered against the ground, setting off small sparks as it moved. "Who were you talking to when you came in, anyway? I didn't see anybody..."
She looked down just then, and spotted Ibrahim at Crisis' side. "Who are you?"
"This is my friend Abe! I met him out in the jungle yesterday... I was going to eat him, but he was singing, or praying or whatever it was, and it sounded really beautiful, so we got to know one another and I've been leading him back here, so he'd be safe." She breathed for a moment, a smile on her face as she leaned down towards him. "Abe, this is Anna! She used to be a human, but now she's a naga."
Ibrahim stood in stunned silence at the introduction Crisis had given him. He raised his hand timidly to Anna, waving it slowly at her. "Salam Alaykum, Anna. It's... it's a pleasure to meet you."
She turned slowly towards him and frowned, looking with suspicion down at him. "You're one of those sort of people," she said. Ibrahim felt like a pet that had clawed the furnature, or an insect that had gotten into the pantry, only to be found. She looked back up at Crisis and shook her head. "You should have left him in the jungle. I'm surprised he didn't call you a demon, or something stupid like--"
"He's not like that!" Crisis said. The blond pouted as she crossed her arms and turned to look away from Anna. "He's really nice. He's kind of complicated, but nice."
"Religious people are always complicated, or at least rediculous." She glared down at Ibrahim. "They constantly fight over whose god is better. It's irrational, and pointless, and bringing him here is just going to invite trouble.'
Crisis turned up her nose, and turned back towards the entrance to the room. "I think you're being too harsh. You always say anyone I bring back with me will be trouble." She nodded down to Ibrahim, who stood behind a bend in her tail. "Come on, Abe. Let's let Anna cool down a bit. She'll feel better later on."
The two moved back out of the room, with Anna left standing in the middle of the space. The pink-haired naga threw her hands up at her sides, letting the limbs fall back against her with a thud. "I wish you'd think about what you're doing more, Crisis," she called out, the two already out of sight. "One of these days, you'll get yourself into more trouble than you can handle!"
The words died away in the air as she looked down at herself, frowning at the juncture between her hips and tail. "You'll run out of luck," she said with her head hung, voice quieter as she turned back towards her workbench, "and then what will I do?"
~
"You know, I can still see you, down there." Crisis smiled slightly as she sat back on her tail. "The bushes don't really hide you much from up here."
Ibrahim sighed, and pulled his clothes up out of the water, wringing them dry. The naga's blood had soaked in deep, and set in the fibers well before they had managed to make it to her home. He'd sighed and set his shirt and pants aside to dry on a nearby tree branch, sitting down into the water briefly to clean his skin and hair. At least, he thought to himself, this particular stream was safe enough to do that in.
Crisis had found him a bit of fabric that she had come across in her travels around the jungle, which he tore and draped over himself like a tunic once he had dried off, belting the simple garment off with a thread torn from some hanging vines. "I try not to think about it, too much," he answered her as he walked back over towards where she was sitting.
They had traveled up onto a ridge some distance away from the Great Tree, a height that provided a panoramic view of the area. The massive tree's top covered the stary night as though someone had taken a knife to the sky and cut a jagged hole into it. "I've never seen the stars this bright," Ibrahim said quietly as he sat down beside Crisis. When she looked down at him, confused, he smiled and continued. "Where I'm from... there's a lot of cities. I would have to travel a long distance to see so many stars."
He paused for a moment, and bowed his head. As beautiful as the stars were, he recognized no familiar constellations in the sky, no familiar reminders of home. It was alien as the landscape around him.
He jumped to feel Crisis' hand just behind him, the blond naga leaning down towards him. "As long as you're here, we'll be friends." She straightened up, and looked out into the night. "That way, you won't feel so alone. You'll learn to survive, and maybe, someday, you'll find a way back to Earth, or New Jersey, or whatever wherever you're from is called."
"And if I never do?"
Crisis shrugged. "I thought you said that only your god knew what would happen in the future?"
The naga's question made him laugh, amused by his own lack of faith. "You're right. Sometimes, I just wish He would make it a little more clear what He had in mind."
"And that's why I think religion is complicated."
Ibrahim watched something fly across the night sky, seeing it obscure the stars as it passed, and wondered what it might be. "Do you," he started to say, "do you believe in anything, Crisis?"
She blinked, and looked back down at him. "Me? Nothing complicated, like gods and goddesses, religions and that sort of stuff." Her voice grew quieter. For a moment, Ibrahim looked up at her, and saw something serene and beautiful in her face; the look of someone peaceful, content with who they were and their place in the world, and for a moment he couldn't help but envy her certaint. "I believe in my friends. I believe they will always be there for me, and that I should always be there for them."
Ibrahim nodded, and closed his eyes as he pushed himself up off the ground to his feet. "That's a wonderful thing to believe in, Crisis."
"Abe?"
He opened his eyes again, and looked out at the jungle below. Maybe, just maybe, he thought to himself, there was a reason for him to be here. "Yes, Crisis?"
"Can you do that... chanting... singing... praying thing that you do?" She looked away, slightly embarased by her question. "I like how it sounds. It's relaxing."
He smiled, and raised his hands to cover his ears. "Of course," he said, smiling cheerfully as he stood up tall by the cliff ledge. He took a deep breath of the warm air, untouched by pollution, by the corruption of civilization gone out of control, beside a woman who both terrified him, and gave him hope. Insha'Allah, he would understand why he was here, and he would survive. Insha'Allah. If God so wills it.
He took another breath, and let the athan ring out over the jungles of Felarya, offering his evening prayer to the God he could not see nor hear, one that had seen him this far, while his friend listened with amused curiosity at words she did not understand, but found beautiful, nonetheless.
~
Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar
God is most great, God is most great
Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar
God is most great, God is most great
Ashahadu an la ilaha illah allah
I profess that there is no god but God
Ashahadu an Mohammedan rasulallah
I profess that Mohammed is the messenger of God
Hiya ala as-salah
Join us in our prayer
Hiya ala al-falah
Join us in our fortune
Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar
God is most great, God is most great
La ilaha illah Allah
There is no reality but God's.
Notes
- This is my first attempt at a really well-written, plotted out story set in Felarya. I like to think it's a good attempt, and I hope that I have captured the characters of Crisis and Anna pretty faithfully to what Karbo intended. If I haven't, I humbly apologize! Fanfiction is difficult...
The text "بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم" at the beginning of the story is an invocation traditionally used to begin both religious texts, as well as fictional literature. It seemed appropriate to invoke the name of God to begin a story of a young man's confronting the meaning of faith.
- Is anyone really surprised that crashing his car in the Pine Barrens ended up sending Ibrahim to Felarya? I mean, really? I've always wanted to write a character from New Jersey, partly because a pretty sizeable span of my life, particularly my summers, was spent in South Jersey. That, New Jersey is always blamed as a source of strange things happening.
- Ibrahim is the Arabic spelling of Abraham, who has the distinction of occupying a place of great importance in Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Hence why the character here tells Crisis that he goes by the nickname Abe, as Ibrahim (Eh-brah-him) is sort of tricky to pronounce.
- The verse that Ibrahim yells at Crisis, and then recalls the rest of later as they fight the kensha beasts, is actually from the Qur'an, Surah 5, Ayat 32. "On that account, we ordained for the Children of Israel that if any one slew a person, unless it be for murder or for spreading mischief in the land, it would be as if he slew the whole people; and if any one saved a life, it would be as if he had saved the whole people." A big part of Ibrahim's conflict over Crisis eating people is whether or not that constitutes murder... in our world, vore would be. Whether it is or not for Crisis and others like her though, I think, is open to debate.
- Ibrahim's greeting to Anna means "Peace be upon you," to which the normal response is wa alaykum as-salam (and upon you, peace, as well.) And let's be honest with ourselves, if you saw someone as big and as iritable as Anna is here, you'd probably be scared, too.
- Anna is actually incredibly hard to write, more so, I think, than Crisis. It's hard to make her sound grouchy and annoyed without her sounding like she does so without any good reason. She comes across as being frustrated by her situation, and I tried to go with that. She also comes off to me as being an athiest (or, at least, an agnostic,) especially after suddenly turning into a naga. If she did believe in a supreme being, she probably thinks he or she is playing a horribly cruel joke on her.
- The athan, or call to prayer, does actually sound very beautiful, at least it does to me. It has a rhythm to it, a particular sound, that I imagine someone like Crisis, who is attracted to music and anything musical, would find it interesting. Look up someone saying it on YouTube sometime, if you ever want to hear what it sounds like. The text of it is just after the end of the story, and is what Ibrahim says out into the night, now that his confidence has been shored up.
I sort of took some liberties with translating the athan, one for the purposes of gramatical sense, the other for literary purposes. The sentence hiya ala al-falah is usually translated as "Come to success" which sounds odd to me, so I give it as "Join us in our fortune" which I think stays pretty close to the original meaning, but makes a little more sense gramatically in English.
The other translation note, there, is how the line la ilaha ila Allah is translated two different ways. The first is the more literal translation: there is no god but God, the first half of a Muslim's declaration of faith. The second translation of it, "there is no reality but God's" is a more mystical, Sufi twist. Sufis' hold that God encompases all of reality, and that everything created is part of God. If Ibrahim believes that all realities constitute God, then even Felarya is encompassed by Divine Will, and there really must be a purpose to him being here. What that is, of course, remains to be seen.
Subject: Ibrahim in Felarya 
Thu Oct 08, 2009 9:20 pm
There are a number of good writers in Felarya; I won't mention names, so as not to forget some and leave them out, but if you browse through my dA favourites, you'll see some of those I like. 
