Born in Cairo, Egypt; Jendayi had dense Bedouin spirits. News broke out that the Libyan Civil War had started involving the instigation of Libyan and Egyptian masses which played second fiddle with those of the Arab Emirates’ troops. She was bright eyed, keen and optimistic but also a butterfly of the age of sixteen. One dreadful day, a harsh and sharp gust of wind blew through their settlements at midnight. It burned out their earthen lamps and their spines shivered. From the fear of the unknown. It was the Libyan paramilitary police force. They killed Jendayi’s parents and grabbed hold of every feeble in the vicinity. Whomever they desired. They stock piled them like a heap of bricks in a rusty old massive transporter. They were planned to be taken to Libya where they would be cruelly murdered in front of cameras and the tapes were to be sent to the Egyptian president, Fattah el-Sisi. They were smuggled out of Egypt and through the border. Jendayi’s inmates planned a prison break and she was carried along with their ideas. The plan was assembled by a bulky man whom they called a Medjai. Briefly described as a skilled protector of the pharaonic regions. And the plan was executed. They escaped out of the prison bus near Alexandria. The Medjai had been protecting Jendayi all along and in that peculiar moment did she find out that the man under the black veil was her father. Her father was the Medjai who played dead when the Libyan forces broke into their settlements. In that moment of impact did she know that her father had been protecting her all along and she was the first born descendant of the League of the Medjay. He trained her to be a Medjai in an underground location in Alexandria. And after six rigid years of training did she emerge out as a powerful mercenary warrior who was soully sculpted to set out on a quest to end the Libyan Civil war.
Entering in the throne room, with the resonant sounds of her gait, the Queen of Ravens had a fierce look on her face. She was pale and cold. Her appearance was the definition of utter fear and brutality. The merriment of the Kingdom had converted to darkness. One day, she summoned all the sorcerers of the Kingdom and demanded the future of her reign. They all claimed that they foresee something that once spoken will be considered as an Act of Blasphemy towards her Majesty. As she considered herself to be a Goddess. But the bitter reality was that she was an oppressive queen of her terrain. Only the Merlin’s Apprentice had the courage to spit out what was his perception of the queen’s future. He said: ‘Your pride hath a fall; thy son of Adam of blue eyes as the Caribbean ocean, shall put an end to your wicked reign.’ Then followed a stream of fire towards him through the gilded wand of the wretched Queen. His soul Ascended at the spot. And then the queen ordered her villainous troops to end every infant born with the eyes of which the apprentice spoke. And then started the bloodshed. But meanwhile this execution of poor souls, during the war of good and evil did the Queen find a King of the Southern Isles who was a gallant warrior and the owner of a high moral character. She was so beautiful that he saved her and brought her to his castle. But he never knew about the content of her heart. Dark. Mysterious and brutal. They fell in love and wanted to be betrothed. It was the love the Queen had ever wished of and the King found her admirable in her unpredictability. But in their long exchange of words did the Gallant warrior know how brutal she is. So, he went into her chamber one day and asked her to close her eyes. He ran his fingers through her raven colored hair making her feel like she is everything he thinks about; then, he choked her and she stared in his fierce deep blue eyes. Choked her to death. To end this villainous reign of dark and opaque persecution. He saved the land and the merriment was restored.
Eyes gazing into the bright friendship, mind relaxing with the slow breeze of ease, she entered her world back with something special. Special as in her superpower, her wings to fly, her fuel to ride. Nobody knew behind that flight, was her potential, her resolution, determination, her willpower. All they could do, was talk about her, develop some smirk on the face and just surprisingly see.
She had her face beaming with pleasure and ecstasy, her special weapon firing and blasting with kindness. She relaxed everyone with her galvanizing speech, her soothing efforts, and her scent. The scent seemed as if coming from the gentle convolutions of a golden flower. The nostalgic moment tagged flashes of love and care. Well, the special weapon was none other than, her
Things weren’t the same since she came back from Jerusalem. With the stumbling and marching noise of combat boots outside of her cottage in a backward ghetto. Emily foresaw a thunder waging against her. She was on the horns of dilemma. She couldn’t disclose the information of the exalted Muslim clergyman she met in Jerusalem, to the troops of Soviet State General Martinus. And she knew that the whole Soviet nation had rough ties with that man. Suddenly they entered with the bursting disharmonious sounds of their Shotguns, firings, recoils and everyother fearful thing in this world. They came in her bedroom marching. She was caught. Her wrists twisted and she was made to bow before the General. ‘Finish her’, he said, in the most empowered and authoritative manner. A man with a gun pointed on her head and a room full of men with hearts that don’t beat. But at the verge of this moment, she reminisces an incantation the Muslim clergyman gave to her in Jerusalem. ” لا إله الا الله” said the parchment he thrust onto her hands and she made a necklace out of it. Now, she sees a luminous light. The light of angels. A huge white shadow with vast wings and a beauty which can’t be described descended to this mere Earth. He lifted her and said, “Now It is the clergyman’s God to whom I shall take you. Verily He is the most merciful.” Continue reading