The man's body was bound to a large stone. His bare chest was covered in fresh whip marks. Blood flowed freely, mixing with the sweat that drenched his body, causing an unbearable sensation of pain and agony.
The man's consciousness was fading, sinking along with his screams that could no longer be heard. The man torturing him hadn't allowed him even a single sip of water.
"Ḥawāriyyūn! Ḥawāriyyūn!" The man whispered tragically. His voice caught in his throat. Besides his body being relentlessly tortured, his throat had been dry for two days. His bones were broken, some even protruding from his body.
His face was covered in bruises, marks from the punches and kicks of the sayyid, the owner of his restricted life.
"'Stupid 'abd! How long will you keep calling out to those who will never come! El-Ḥawāry was a myth to fool us, the people of Eṡam!"
The stocky man swung his whip again and again, ignoring the heart-wrenching groans of his slave.
"Open your eyes! You are nothing but dust beneath my feet. How dare you defy the hand that feeds you? If you refuse to do what I command, then death is what awaits you!" The stocky man roared fiercely, like a lion ready to devour its prey.
"Ḥawāriyyūn¹! Ḥawāriyyūn!" What came out of the man's mouth remained exactly the same. In his fading consciousness, that vow remained deeply embedded in his mind.
'The key to life is faith. If you believe in what you believe, and do not betray what you believe, then only goodness awaits you. Be patient, and you will see proof of the universal word that I convey.'
The stocky man's sweaty face grew increasingly red, anger boiling the blood in his body. "Fine! If it's death you desire, this sayyid will grant it to you, you lowly peasant!"
The whipping became even more frenzied! It wasn't just aimed at the body, but also targeted the face and many other vital points.
The man's consciousness was thinning. The pain he felt grew increasingly blurred, along with his dulled senses.
As his senses dimmed, fleeting images of his journey surfaced; deserts, seas, and all kind of adventures.
The escape from the treacherous land of Sāhim, in his effort to find a renowned group that came with their new ideology about life.
Ḥawāriyyūn.
A rumor that led him to sail across seas and traverse deserts, towards a remote land called Eṡam.
All those memories fluttered like butterflies in a fragrant flower field. Carrying all his awareness towards another realm, where finally, his soul could rest in peace.
Suddenly, a loud groan echoed. No, it didn't come from the slave. But from his sayyid. A shadow moved swiftly behind him, unnoticed amidst his frenzied rage. The glint of steel was the last thing he saw, piercing his heart.
The slave's eyes were already closed. Only his ears still functioned, and even those were very hazy.
"Rejoice, o beautiful soul. Your endurance has brought you home. Welcome to the light of Ḥawāriyyūn, akhī²."
***
Notes:
(¹) Ḥawāriyyūn: The followers of El-Ḥawāry.
(²) Akhī: my brother.