Stories about preaching

Kill them, kill them!

This piece is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Sinister, sinister, He exclaims, You are forever, Held in remains. You shall kill for you need to live, Earn for yourself but to me you give, Deny the contrary, expand the illusive, For we are the ones, we are exclusive. Sinner, sinner, He explains, Blessings for those, Who do not complain. You see my friend, you cannot speak. When elders troll, the minions scroll, To pacify you is our ultimate goal. Kill them, kill them! He will shout. The mind that opposes, Should bleed, no doubt. The end is nigh, we need to act. Those that answer, we will subtract. We are the holy, we are ...

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I’m a sinner because I am left-handed

I am left-handed. I eat with the left hand – always have, always will. I can’t help it! It’s called being “left-handed”, though mercifully enough, it’s still not classified as a transmittable disease…yet! “You’re eating with your left hand, beta!” “Yes, auntie, I know. I’m left-handed”. (Now why do I always speak with an apologetic lilt when replying to aunties who could be better off minding their own businesses?) “Oh, you poor child! I didn’t realise you’re a lefty. I feel so sorry for you, beta. Didn’t your parents teach you its haraam to eat with the left hand”? “Auntie, I’m left-handed.” “Tsk tsk. Bechara (poor lad). ...

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