Unholy Advent: Deception Of The Christ
Page 11
The Grand Mosque was alive with fervor, at the height of The Haji. Millions of devout Muslims marched in their counter-clockwise circumnambulance of The Kaaba to begin the holy ritual of Eid al-Adha.
The sounds of their feet moving on the granite below echoed off the great pillars of marble and stone surrounding this sacred site. They pointed with reverence to the al-Hajaru-I-Aswad, an irregular oval of brilliant rock with an undulating surface known to most as The Black Stone, as they passed it at the eastern corner of the building.
Some of the worshipers cried Allhu Akbar passionately as they circled, offering their praise and submission to God. The energy of those gathered was amplified by the power of countless others around the world facing Qibla, the direction of prayer, sending their devotion towards this cubic beacon of their faith.
At the center of the sea of people was the building, draped in its ceremonial Kiswah. The intensely black silk bore gold-embroidered calligraphy quoting Qur'anic verses per tradition, the characters glimmering in the mid-day sun.
The Kaaba was stoic in its acceptance of their prayer; an old soul as buildings go; having first been built by Ibrahim in biblical times and believed to entomb the remains of the prophet Ishmael. It stood perched upon its marble throne, indifferent to the song the millions sang.
"Look!" A man called in Arabic, his frantic voice bringing silence upon the yard as revelers stopped dead in their tracks.
The man pointed to the Kiswah which was flapping strangely now upon the Kaaba. These ripples weren't natural; not the gentle waives created by the wind. The veil looked to be undulating from within somehow, as though manipulated by a hand from inside the cube.
Gasps came from every direction, excited calls to Allah as well. Before the masses the Kiswah continued to move. Slowly it rose from the ground, revealing the dark shale of the holy building below. Soon the silk was alight - floating before their collective eyes. It drifted to the heavens like a child's balloon released, soaring high into the clouds and beyond.
The heavy golden door of the building opened, revealing a man standing proudly within. He was handsome creature; a man of medium stature with a broad forehead, prominent nose and a natural mascara circling his eyes. His hair was black as night, a beard upon his chin to match. He wore an uncharacteristic garb, looking militant in its style. His air was that of a great general and a holy man at once. He held himself with dignity and poise, looking powerful in his posture.
Before he moved a muscle or spoke a word the speculation had begun amongst the crowd.
"It's the Mahdi" Some clamored. "The Guided One! The redeemer of Islam!"
"It cannot be!" Others insisted. "Signs remain unfulfilled!"
"Blasphemy!" Still more cried. "This man has desecrated the Holy Kaaba!"
The man raised his hand, signaling stop to those gathered. A hush drew over them in their millions, standing like frightened sheep in the shadow of their shepherd; or the same of a menacing wolf.
Their eyes were wide with wonder as he grabbed hold of The Black Stone and yanked it from its mount. He climbed, then, to the top the Kaaba, as though the motion were effortless - though he lifted his frame with the strength of just one hand. Centering himself on the roof, he spun slowly and beheld the crowd, holding the stone high above his head for them to see. Then he drew it down, holding it before his face, and planted his lips upon the smoothly polished relic as many had before. To their astonishment it seemed to glow, changing from its darkened hue to a white as pure as milk.
"Now," The stranger finally spoke in a thick and hearty tone, his voiced carried through the silence to the ears of all who watched. "As I cleanse this stone of the sins of sons of Adam, I stand before you. At the command of Allah himself, I thrust this idol back to paradise from whence it came!"
The figure pulled the stone back into his neck with his right hand, winding up like an athlete poised to hurl a shot-put. With a furious twirl he cast it off, pitching it in a steep arc. A luminous tail of glory trailed behind it as it ascended, defying gravity in its climb. Some fell to their knees, now, in his presence and prayed to his visage. He simply watched the stone in flight, kissing the palm from which it had been launched.
"The star that rises from the East!" One of the revelers called. "The final sign! This man IS the Mahdi!"
"All who stand here now," The mysterious man continued. "And all who pray for this place abroad - let them know that I have come; The thirteenth Iman! The Mahdi born of flesh!"
"You ARE NOT the Mahdi!" Another man shouted from the crowd. "I know your face! You are Ibrahim Ali Sabra - a lowly Jihadist before almighty Allah!"
The sea of life split around the man, hundreds putting distance between themselves and the one who dared to speak. Ali Sabra took note of this and first addressed those who fled.
"Is this the unity of Islam? You leave your brother's side because you fear that he has sinned?"
"He will incite your anger!" A woman called out.
Ali Sabra smiled and shook his head, taking a less commanding tone as he continued.
"No, Sister." He said. "The days of quarrels among ourselves have passed. Today we stand united; one face under Allah. For today we will be vindicated; all of Islam redeemed. We are the chosen sons of God, and soon we'll take our place at his blessed feet. This was told to me this day -- by Jesus Christ himself. I am Ibrahim Ali Sabra... and in the storm of battle brought by those who seek to destroy us, I was saved from the depths of death. Christ came to me; he took my hand and escorted me to the chamber where he kept the Twelfth Iman, imprisoned deep within the Earth. There it was affirmed; he ordered me to spread his word, to rid the world of wrongdoing and injustice. He said he would raise the lowest part of the world for me, and lower the highest places. So much that I might see the whole of the world as if in the palm of my hand. In my time, a Muslim in the East will see his Muslim brother in the West; and he in the West will see him in the East."
"It's a lie!" The lonely man returned, the others still maintaining their space. "A trick! This man IS NOT the Thirteenth Iman!"
"He told me some would resist," Ali Sabra continued. "That they would flee from me as sheep flee from their shepherd. But in these times of change, when they seek out a purifier they shall find none as great as I. My dominion will one of the proofs that God has created all things. My rule shall not be overcome; soon, none on the Earth will have any counter-proposition against me. I will conquer the world! When this is done, the world will be illuminated by the light of Allah! Places where he is not worshipped will become his temples, and though some may not wish it - soon the only faith will be the religion of God! These are the words of the Twelfth Iman!"
Ali Sabra looked over the crowd once more, drawing his hand towards the dissenter as he addressed the others.
"Why do you wait? Return to the side of your brother and take his hand! Convince him of our intentions; our conviction of solidarity!"
The masses obeyed his command, though they seemed hesitant to approach him. At the leader's continued urging, they eventually closed around the man.
"What are we to do now that these holy words are spoken?" Another asked the man upon his pulpit. "Command us, Mahdi!"
Ali Sabra smiled with pride, his tree taking root in the people. He looked to the north, deep into the horizon.
"Our road begins in Jerusalem - where Israel lie in rubble. We march now, Muslim soldiers; we march to meet our destiny!"
At his behest they moved, a wave of humanity spilling into the desert. Their hearts filled with vigor, they sought to conqueror The Holy Land.
Chapter 12