The rich smell of heady Arabic coffee filtered through the air, waking the
busy world the busy world of Israel and causing it to almost hum with
children skipping in their playgrounds, mothers chatting with their
neighbors, and men bickering over sports scores. But there would always be
the mornings where smoke overpowered the coffee, the children hid behind
their mother's skirts, mothers shut their windows and did their dishes
silently, and men donned yamakas and turbans and killed another's child.
And both fought in the name of God, a god they said was kind and loving. Both blamed the other in a situation that was beyond blame. Their leaders led them against the other, forcing more violence and bitterness. All wish for an end, but no one can seem to just let go and forgive.
It is in this situation that our two main characters exist in. Neither has known what their enemy is. Such is the way in 'God's Land'. But what is so significant about these two is their abilities to be young and able to choose. One, a Muslim paramedic, is kind and gentle lad with the soul of an angel. The other is a withdrawn Jew, quiet and mechanoly, but brilliant and works as a professor of physics.
The two should never have met. They should've stayed strangers, found lovely girls who completed their lives, and settled down. But oh, life's beauty is in her mistakes.
"Halt!"
A guttural growl came out of a large Muslim student, whom had only a moment before been walking down the busy street with his friend. He muttered underneath his breath, his eyes carrying the look of a noble trapped in a slave's garb, "I hate this. I've been stopped three times today already Katrin, and I'll be damned if it's for any reason other than the fact that I look Muslim. Not that I mind looking like who I am.. But I can't stand these."
His friend just shook his head, the tiny blonde just patting his near giant friend on the back, facing the Israeli soldier, "Allah Akbar, Mawli. Allah Akbur."1
"You two know the way we do this, turn your back to me, make your arms rest at parallel away from your body, and legs apart."
The Israeli barely checked Mawli, concentrating on Khatrin, who was lovely in every sense of the word. The hands were rough, groping and pinching at areas that no soldier should ever go, for no man would carry explosives at his ass. But apparently the soldier thought so, treating the man like a horse at market. Except the horse would have been treated with more respect.
Mawli rubbed Khatrin's back as he vomited in a ditch, the sensitive boy's emotions running high. He still could feel those hands, rough and unkind, leaving him feeling so disturbed. That was something no one should do, ever.
Mawli's emotions were running high. Everyone in his mosque loved the little blonde teen when he'd moved to Israel from Denmark, to come back and really discover his religion. The women of the mosque adored him, constantly tutting over him and making sure he was eating right, and always chuckling over his blond hair and light blue eyes, wondering how on earth anyone could be so beautiful and still so kind.
He sighed, clasping Khatrin's shoulder, worried for his friend's safety more than anything,
"Katrin. I don't know if we should stay in the restaurant. It's almost all Jews in there."
Khatrin just smiled wistfully, continuing to walk on towards the restaurant, "Every once in a while my friends and I in Denmark would drive down to this little café in Germany for breakfast. We'd wake at 4 in the morning, pile into my tiny Saab, all 4 of us, and drive on down. It was beautiful, and I remembered driving down there once. The news about the Oklahoma City bombing had just come on, and I had to drive to the side of the road and just sob.
None of my friends woke, but I had sat there heartbroken for those families, when the sun came up over the hills. I stopped crying, and realized something. Life had its ups and downs, and that's just the way it was. You could never predict it, except for one thing. If you stayed home and never ventured down to Germany for a thing as simple as a good pastry. You could never live. And visiting this café. well, it's my drive back to Schweislig-Holstein." 2
Malwi just follow Khatrin in silence, walking the 3 mile trek, all for a damn good piece of Apfelkuchen.3 The streets bustled with activity, the sounds of rapid buying and selling of goods echoing through the open air market on their way. Malwi bought a particularly good bag of apples, the two splitting the sweet fruits till they finally reached what seemed like no more than a niche in the wall, but that sold amazing food.
An almost anorexic Muslim was sitting at a table, out of the way due to a lack of yamaka or tassel, a lock of hair going from the temple to the chin. Malwi guided Khatrin over to the line, giving him money and telling him his order, before walking over to the other Muslim. "Khalique, I'm glad you came" Te man stood, smiling even with his body almost withered away, "Malwi, it's good to see you again"
They sat down, Malwi reaching over the grasp the trembling Khalique's arm, rolling up the soft black cotton fabric of his shirt. He winced as he saw new razor marks, apparently Khalique was still not handling the death of his sister by Israeli soldiers well, but he was pleased to see no more marks where his companion could have shot up. Malwi sighed, looking into his friend's brown eyes, worried for him. He rolled down the fabric, and grasped his hand, running his thumb over Khal's palm.
"Will you eat something today, Lique? You have to beat you anorexia, or else I'll get Khatrin to pull string and get you into the hospital. I never want to lose you, my friend."
Khalique only looked down, eyes brimming slightly with tears, "But I miss her. She was all I ever had."
The larger man only tutted like a loving mother, leaning forward and giving him a kiss on the forehead, "I'll always be here for you, aziz." 4
Mawliturned around, only to see Khatrin still waiting in line. But Khalique, tears rolling down his cheeks, reached for a pin beside a grenade and several explosives beneath his shirt. He stood, swallowing backs quiet sobs, "I'm so tired of all this. The Jews have taken my home, my life, and my sister."
He looked pleadingly at Malwi, who never saw the explosives, and never guessed. "I have to do this. I have to make Allah forgive our sins enough so he may overlook my sin. I love you Malwi, from some place deeper than my soul. Allah will forgive us for my sacrifice. I love you, Malwi." With that, the pin was pulled, the force knocking Khatrin, the lucky one, into a tall, lanky Jew near him, the two slamming against a nearby wall, knocking them out instantly. Little did they know they'd be the only survivors?
For such was the way in God's Land.
Author's Notes: Wow, I am sooo going to get flamed for this. There will be in the next chapter the Jewish side, no fear. Roughly translated, 'Allah is great' Used as a greeting or saying. Like 'God Bless' for Christians. The German province right near Denmark. Apple cake, mainly an apple strudel. Aziz is deer is Arabic.
Yes, I do understand the Palestinians side in the Israeli war. I think the Israeli's shouldn't have been put so near their enemies if they wanted a land of peace. But that's what I think. Yes, Malwi is dead. I love him to death, but I felt it would be more fitting for him to go with his love. This fic will be about a Jewish male loving a Muslim male. If this offends you, do not read. But this is one of the best thing's I've written, and my whole heart in thrown into this. So everyone else. Enjoy!
And both fought in the name of God, a god they said was kind and loving. Both blamed the other in a situation that was beyond blame. Their leaders led them against the other, forcing more violence and bitterness. All wish for an end, but no one can seem to just let go and forgive.
It is in this situation that our two main characters exist in. Neither has known what their enemy is. Such is the way in 'God's Land'. But what is so significant about these two is their abilities to be young and able to choose. One, a Muslim paramedic, is kind and gentle lad with the soul of an angel. The other is a withdrawn Jew, quiet and mechanoly, but brilliant and works as a professor of physics.
The two should never have met. They should've stayed strangers, found lovely girls who completed their lives, and settled down. But oh, life's beauty is in her mistakes.
"Halt!"
A guttural growl came out of a large Muslim student, whom had only a moment before been walking down the busy street with his friend. He muttered underneath his breath, his eyes carrying the look of a noble trapped in a slave's garb, "I hate this. I've been stopped three times today already Katrin, and I'll be damned if it's for any reason other than the fact that I look Muslim. Not that I mind looking like who I am.. But I can't stand these."
His friend just shook his head, the tiny blonde just patting his near giant friend on the back, facing the Israeli soldier, "Allah Akbar, Mawli. Allah Akbur."1
"You two know the way we do this, turn your back to me, make your arms rest at parallel away from your body, and legs apart."
The Israeli barely checked Mawli, concentrating on Khatrin, who was lovely in every sense of the word. The hands were rough, groping and pinching at areas that no soldier should ever go, for no man would carry explosives at his ass. But apparently the soldier thought so, treating the man like a horse at market. Except the horse would have been treated with more respect.
Mawli rubbed Khatrin's back as he vomited in a ditch, the sensitive boy's emotions running high. He still could feel those hands, rough and unkind, leaving him feeling so disturbed. That was something no one should do, ever.
Mawli's emotions were running high. Everyone in his mosque loved the little blonde teen when he'd moved to Israel from Denmark, to come back and really discover his religion. The women of the mosque adored him, constantly tutting over him and making sure he was eating right, and always chuckling over his blond hair and light blue eyes, wondering how on earth anyone could be so beautiful and still so kind.
He sighed, clasping Khatrin's shoulder, worried for his friend's safety more than anything,
"Katrin. I don't know if we should stay in the restaurant. It's almost all Jews in there."
Khatrin just smiled wistfully, continuing to walk on towards the restaurant, "Every once in a while my friends and I in Denmark would drive down to this little café in Germany for breakfast. We'd wake at 4 in the morning, pile into my tiny Saab, all 4 of us, and drive on down. It was beautiful, and I remembered driving down there once. The news about the Oklahoma City bombing had just come on, and I had to drive to the side of the road and just sob.
None of my friends woke, but I had sat there heartbroken for those families, when the sun came up over the hills. I stopped crying, and realized something. Life had its ups and downs, and that's just the way it was. You could never predict it, except for one thing. If you stayed home and never ventured down to Germany for a thing as simple as a good pastry. You could never live. And visiting this café. well, it's my drive back to Schweislig-Holstein." 2
Malwi just follow Khatrin in silence, walking the 3 mile trek, all for a damn good piece of Apfelkuchen.3 The streets bustled with activity, the sounds of rapid buying and selling of goods echoing through the open air market on their way. Malwi bought a particularly good bag of apples, the two splitting the sweet fruits till they finally reached what seemed like no more than a niche in the wall, but that sold amazing food.
An almost anorexic Muslim was sitting at a table, out of the way due to a lack of yamaka or tassel, a lock of hair going from the temple to the chin. Malwi guided Khatrin over to the line, giving him money and telling him his order, before walking over to the other Muslim. "Khalique, I'm glad you came" Te man stood, smiling even with his body almost withered away, "Malwi, it's good to see you again"
They sat down, Malwi reaching over the grasp the trembling Khalique's arm, rolling up the soft black cotton fabric of his shirt. He winced as he saw new razor marks, apparently Khalique was still not handling the death of his sister by Israeli soldiers well, but he was pleased to see no more marks where his companion could have shot up. Malwi sighed, looking into his friend's brown eyes, worried for him. He rolled down the fabric, and grasped his hand, running his thumb over Khal's palm.
"Will you eat something today, Lique? You have to beat you anorexia, or else I'll get Khatrin to pull string and get you into the hospital. I never want to lose you, my friend."
Khalique only looked down, eyes brimming slightly with tears, "But I miss her. She was all I ever had."
The larger man only tutted like a loving mother, leaning forward and giving him a kiss on the forehead, "I'll always be here for you, aziz." 4
Mawliturned around, only to see Khatrin still waiting in line. But Khalique, tears rolling down his cheeks, reached for a pin beside a grenade and several explosives beneath his shirt. He stood, swallowing backs quiet sobs, "I'm so tired of all this. The Jews have taken my home, my life, and my sister."
He looked pleadingly at Malwi, who never saw the explosives, and never guessed. "I have to do this. I have to make Allah forgive our sins enough so he may overlook my sin. I love you Malwi, from some place deeper than my soul. Allah will forgive us for my sacrifice. I love you, Malwi." With that, the pin was pulled, the force knocking Khatrin, the lucky one, into a tall, lanky Jew near him, the two slamming against a nearby wall, knocking them out instantly. Little did they know they'd be the only survivors?
For such was the way in God's Land.
Author's Notes: Wow, I am sooo going to get flamed for this. There will be in the next chapter the Jewish side, no fear. Roughly translated, 'Allah is great' Used as a greeting or saying. Like 'God Bless' for Christians. The German province right near Denmark. Apple cake, mainly an apple strudel. Aziz is deer is Arabic.
Yes, I do understand the Palestinians side in the Israeli war. I think the Israeli's shouldn't have been put so near their enemies if they wanted a land of peace. But that's what I think. Yes, Malwi is dead. I love him to death, but I felt it would be more fitting for him to go with his love. This fic will be about a Jewish male loving a Muslim male. If this offends you, do not read. But this is one of the best thing's I've written, and my whole heart in thrown into this. So everyone else. Enjoy!