Hi, in the spirit of this community, I only feel that it would be fair for me to post a sample of my work.
You may recognise the setting as being very close to the Arabian Nights, know that it is, yet its still set in a larger Fantasy world.
This is a prologue to a larger work. Any constructive critique, feedback, or general comments would be most welcome! Thanks
-=PROLOGUE=-
The couple struggled to climb the huge sand dune. The night sky was so forgiving, so merciful, and had the clarity of crystal as well as its beauty. The gentle coolness of the night was taken with extreme contrast to the cruel day in the Peninsula. For all of its splendour and rippling dunes painted across the huge sandy flat, the intense heat had made the entire land almost inhospitable. Certainly it was an environment that no normal human being should be able to cope in.
“How much farther left to go?” gasped the young woman, out of breath.
“It’s not far, we’ll be at the top soon,” replied the man.
They both arrived at the rocky outcrop and this time needed to find their footing to climb the dune that had quickly become a rock hill. The man carefully climbed up the rock-face whilst his robes swished in the cool wind. He looked down to his wife and helped her up, ensuring her grip was tight and strong.
“Careful, mind where you step,” he warned his spouse with delicate concern.
In her rich robes she grabbed the ledges of the rocks and pulled herself up. “What are we doing? What is at the top?” She was beginning to lose faith with all of her physical exertion. What indeed was at the top? What did he want to show her?
She had an idea, for today was truly a special day.
“Be patient, and you will see,” he simply replied.
“Sufyaan!” she pouted. “You know I am fully capable of acting surprised!”
Sufyaan gave a short laugh, looked down, gripping his wife’s arm and pulled her up to the nearest ledge so that they could have a break. He glanced upon his wife’s soft face, witnessing the sweat on her brow glistening in the moonlight, reflecting it like tiny beads of glass.
Sufyaan took out of a handkerchief from within his robes and gently patted his wife’s face, wiping away the dust and sand that spoilt her exquisite features.
“Are we there yet?” she asked.
“Not yet. We are going to rest for a bit.” She looked at her beloved husband, the man who she knew deep within the depths of her Soul would do anything for her. Truth be told, Sufyaan loved her so much that he would be willing to blaspheme against Jezai Himself to protect her. Yes, he reluctantly admitted it to himself; he loved her more than he loved Jezai, even if He was a man-god.
Many in the Peninsula would have gasped at the piercing statement and deemed Sufyaan as a sacrilegious outcast, banishing him to the deep desert of the east if they were merciful, which was unlikely as everyone was attached to their roots. However their fanaticism would most likely have had him publicly tortured, mutilated before the people as an example for profanity against Jezai.
Sufyaan was a wise man, and this had made him the leader of the tribe of Qeshier. His wisdom benefited the tribe. Yet in all of his power, he would be willing to sacrifice the entire tribe for his beloved wife.
Sufyaan stood up and adjusted his robes and cloak, looking up to the top of the cliff. “Come, let us continue, habibi,” he suggested, holding out his arm. The woman’s feminine hand grasped onto Sufyaan’s and they began to climb the huge cliff-face again.
As the girl climbed and struggled she remembered her hardship in earlier days, before having even met Sufyaan. In fact, it was during the time when Sufyaan was not even recognised with any form of status. To Sufyaan, his leadership over the clan, and the hand of his wife were heavily intertwined.
She had almost thought that she may as well had walked into the scorching desert and let it claim her. However she had struggled on in her misery and pain, until she had been freed by Sufyaan. For that she had immediately felt the connection to him, feeling a great sense of emotional debt to the man.
At that time Sufyaan had no idea that this woman, whom he would then marry, would become his inspiration for ruling over the Qeshier tribe, leading it into the greatest of futures.
At last both of them were at the top, the wind whistled as they heard it skim the desert like a translucent carpet of sand, carrying tiny dervishes of dust.
“So what are we here for?” she asked with anticipation. A smile blossomed on her face as she couldn’t contain her excitement.
“Just sit here with me and enjoy the view,” recommended Sufyaan smoothly. On top of the cliff, his wife did what any normal woman would do in that situation; she slowly rested her head in Sufyaan’s shoulder. They both shared the silence together, looking up at the gleaming stars. Unlike in the Western part of the world, there were absolutely no clouds in the sky, which made the black night look as though its beauty had been unravelled before their very eyes. Each blinking star glimmered at them, and the crescent moon beamed its modest light, illuminating the vast landscape.
Sufyaan encompassed her with his protective arms and planted a fine kiss on her forehead. The intimacy of the moment melted her heart and she snuggled closer to him. She breathed with ease, lapping every single moment of Sufyaan’s warmth; his every single touch.
She enjoyed the scene, yet she was guilty for not revealing to him her true feelings. It was not through fear of possible violence, but through fear of upsetting Sufyaan for the effort he had expired to present such a scene to her. In all honesty she had found the entire experience rather dull, boring and clichéd. Below was a small village, the fires were dying out and the smoke rose up like steam.
From so high up the village seemed miniature, and she tried to imagine if it were a model that she could pick up and place in her pocket. If only she had such power. She wasn’t moved by the village at all, although there was something familiar about it. She stared at it longer and to her shock realised that it was where her terrible circumstance was born.
“Did you bring me to this village deliberately?” she said, trying to control her fiery anger.
“Indeed it was part of a greater plan,” Sufyaan justified.
With that she leapt away from him, her immodest, red clothes swishing in the wind. “Why would you do this? To insult me? You wish me to revisit that memory again?”
“No wait, you do not understand—”
“—I understand perfectly, O husband of mine! You wish to insult me! You wish to have me destroyed! How can you be so cruel?”
“Patience, my dear,” Sufyaan persisted calmly.
“Patience?”
“Villages are but tents and people, sit with me, come.”
“Sufyaan, I am climbing down, I do not want to be any part—”
“—Trust me. Sit down next to me.”
The woman considered her husband’s invitation as the debate rattled through her head. Should she stay here faithful or leave in anger? She looked at his face, his neat beard, and piercing blue eyes. He was certainly a handsome man. He did, after all, free her from the catastrophe that had befallen her. She swallowed in an arid throat, throwing her black, plaited hair over her shoulder. As she sat down by her husband, her golden bangles jingled musically.
“This is not your present,” Sufyaan whispered playfully into her ears. She frowned in confusion and looked at him. He took out a red stick wrapped around with a green fabric. “They say the stars can talk to one who can wield the flags.” He placed the stick into his wife’s hands and she unravelled the fabric to make the flag.
“Sufyaan, this is childish.”
“Habibi, talk to the stars, wave your flag and make one wish, anything you would like in the whole wide world.”
She sighed, got to her feet and looked to Sufyaan for confirmation.
“Don’t worry, nobody is watching,” reassured Sufyaan, who gently stroked his wife’s bare, well-toned back.
There was only one wish that she wanted when she was in this place. She held the flag up high and it rustled in the wind, she swung it in a figure of eight. After a few seconds she stopped and lowered the flag. She slowly turned to her husband: “You really don’t expect me to believe—”
An explosion lit up the entire night sky.
A crashing boom deafened her.
Her Soul leapt out of her skin in shock. Instinctively she dropped the flags and clasped her gaping mouth with her hands.
She collapsed to the floor. In her panic she looked around and saw that it had come from the village, creating destruction amongst a dense region. Within seconds the sleeping village came into a wild commotion and she could hear the horrific cries of women and old men in amongst the crackling flames and scuttling footsteps of desperation.
“What happened?” she gasped, her knees grazing against the sand. She looked to her husband in absolute shock, who sat there with a sinister grin on his face.
“Happy Anniversary, Hiridah,” he said without a shred of remorse.
“You did this?” She was almost unable to speak. She shook her head and her eyes welled up with tears. She could not believe what she had just seen. “How did you?”
Sufyaan didn’t answer but he gave a smirk instead.
“I can hear their cries from here!”
“Well Hiridah? What do you think?”
Hiridah looked at her husband and clenched her fist, closing her eyes allowing a tear to fall and wet a small patch of sand beneath her. “It’s…” she regulated her breathing. “…beautiful.” She looked at Sufyaan with a sinister smirk on her delicate face. She caressed her fragile palms against his rugged beard.
“Did your wish come true?” Sufyaan asked.
Hiridah sat by her husband, staring into his deep, sensual eyes. “Yes.” She stared at the destruction, hearing the shrill cries of terror. Revenge seeped into her heart. “Yes it did.”
They clasped their lips in a passionate kiss. Amongst the chaos of the village’s despair and agony, they both took the opportunity to mix together; to unify with each other as two intertwined Souls.
