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Description
2 years ago

The heat left the air trembling. Most of everything living had sought shelter. Anything left out here in the middle of the day would suffer under the relentless sun. A mirage at the horizon gave lies about water and shelter. Alim wasn’t a novice when it came to crossing the desert. Yet the great sandbanks could still play pranks on you and he was grateful for his camel. His water was almost all out but it wasn’t far to the oasis. He knew that much.

Something suddenly made him turn his wrinkly and leathery face towards the east. The wind had unexpectedly changed; he got sand in his face. There was like a light roar coming towards him, mixed with weird whispers. It was a sandstorm. He didn’t fear them but there wasn’t much you could do than to wait it out. The sturdy animal gave some shelter against the winds. Without it would have been harder to endure the desert.

His old watery eyes that had seen so many things squinted. It seemed like the sands had materialized into something. A rider! As he recognized the man on the chestnut the old man gasped and clutched the medallion around his neck. Allah, be merciful!

Yasir cursed. Years had passed but now he finally had his chance again. It would be good for his tribe if he could create the ties needed. Good not only when it came to expanding shared territories here but it would also mean that he got a foot into another country. For them it would mean money and influence. There weren’t many that could resist that. Well, the son had. Yusra was considered a beauty. Why he had refused in the end was every ones guess but Yasir was sure it had made the boys father loose his face. That was not a proper way. His own father, thought him crazy as he had lay out a claim of the youngest daughter in the same family. Rana was a jewel among pebbles. Yasir didn’t care that he already had a wife. She had failed him and had only given him daughters. He wanted a son.

The chestnut moved under him, a fine animal and highly prized. Young still but had an old soul. He was prized not only for being a descendant of the Al Khamsa but also for his color. He had everything that was seen as good. He knew the girl liked horses. This horse would be the perfect gift. Or that would be what she thought. Like he would be the fool to give this stallion away like he would have been a nag! No, the horse was the bait. When the girl was here she would be separated from her family and she would be his. Only his. She be damned if she couldn’t give him a son.

----

Present year – not that long ago

Allah - curse her! Curse her family! Curse this country! His eyes glowed dangerously and they, along with his over all menacing look and stature, made the secretary leave his tea in haste, making some of it spill over. He would get his horse back. The chestnut stallion was his no matter what any stupid paper said. Like they ever needed paper on their horses! Some might have been acquired, perhaps not completely honest but it had always been like that. In disputes there had been wins and losses not only when it came to land but also horses. The chestnuts mother was a good example. He simply couldn’t return home without the horse.

Inspiration: Faeq Hassan "Man on Horse"

Description
2 years ago

The heat left the air trembling. Most of everything living had sought shelter. Anything left out here in the middle of the day would suffer under the relentless sun. A mirage at the horizon gave lies about water and shelter. Alim wasn’t a novice when it came to crossing the desert. Yet the great sandbanks could still play pranks on you and he was grateful for his camel. His water was almost all out but it wasn’t far to the oasis. He knew that much.

Something suddenly made him turn his wrinkly and leathery face towards the east. The wind had unexpectedly changed; he got sand in his face. There was like a light roar coming towards him, mixed with weird whispers. It was a sandstorm. He didn’t fear them but there wasn’t much you could do than to wait it out. The sturdy animal gave some shelter against the winds. Without it would have been harder to endure the desert.

His old watery eyes that had seen so many things squinted. It seemed like the sands had materialized into something. A rider! As he recognized the man on the chestnut the old man gasped and clutched the medallion around his neck. Allah, be merciful!

Yasir cursed. Years had passed but now he finally had his chance again. It would be good for his tribe if he could create the ties needed. Good not only when it came to expanding shared territories here but it would also mean that he got a foot into another country. For them it would mean money and influence. There weren’t many that could resist that. Well, the son had. Yusra was considered a beauty. Why he had refused in the end was every ones guess but Yasir was sure it had made the boys father loose his face. That was not a proper way. His own father, thought him crazy as he had lay out a claim of the youngest daughter in the same family. Rana was a jewel among pebbles. Yasir didn’t care that he already had a wife. She had failed him and had only given him daughters. He wanted a son.

The chestnut moved under him, a fine animal and highly prized. Young still but had an old soul. He was prized not only for being a descendant of the Al Khamsa but also for his color. He had everything that was seen as good. He knew the girl liked horses. This horse would be the perfect gift. Or that would be what she thought. Like he would be the fool to give this stallion away like he would have been a nag! No, the horse was the bait. When the girl was here she would be separated from her family and she would be his. Only his. She be damned if she couldn’t give him a son.

----

Present year – not that long ago

Allah - curse her! Curse her family! Curse this country! His eyes glowed dangerously and they, along with his over all menacing look and stature, made the secretary leave his tea in haste, making some of it spill over. He would get his horse back. The chestnut stallion was his no matter what any stupid paper said. Like they ever needed paper on their horses! Some might have been acquired, perhaps not completely honest but it had always been like that. In disputes there had been wins and losses not only when it came to land but also horses. The chestnuts mother was a good example. He simply couldn’t return home without the horse.

Inspiration: Faeq Hassan "Man on Horse"