Isaiah 1:21-23
How the faithful city
has become a whore,
she was full of justice.
Righteousness lodged in her,
but now murderers.
Your silver has become dross,
your best wine mixed with water.
Your princes are rebels
and companions of thieves.
Everyone loves a bride
and runs after gifts.
They do not bring justice to the fatherless,
and the widow’s cause does not come to them.
The Stoning
Amir Abraham sat on a smooth rock under an acacia tree and looked up from his lesson book to count his uncle’s sheep grazing in the high valley of Isaiah. The Kangal dog lay in the tall grass; his ears perked to listen for predators. Satisfied that everything appeared in order, he returned to his lesson from the local religious school he attended to prepare for college and the life of a spiritual leader.
In his best oratory voice, he read aloud to the sheep and dog, who ignored him. “I make a covenant to undergo poverty, learning the realities of being poor, hungry, thirsty, and inadequately clothed. My journey as a holy man begins with a mastery of poverty and affliction.”
“Very good,” he said. Amir noted the dog seemed annoyed. The shepherd boy launched into the rest of his pledge. “I will bring justice to the fatherless and hear the widow’s lament.”
Uncle Subinyá found him under the acacia tree.
“Come, boy, we must go to the bowl of stones.”
Amir knew the bowl of stones as a place of judgment.
“Will the judges be there to punish a criminal?”
Subinyá’s throat vibrated under the tanned wrinkles on his neck as he swallowed.
“They will carry out God’s commandments,” said Subinyá. “You must attend so you can learn the way of the judges.”
Amir did not test his uncle’s patience with more questions. They hiked from the mountain meadow until they met the road to the village. On the way, in a field, was the bowl of stones. It was an area shaped like a bowl full of smooth river rocks the size of a man’s fist carved by an ancient stream that no longer flowed.
When they arrived, a crowd had gathered. Amir noticed a group of judges around a wagon. Their turbans were black and red. A gold scorpion emblem was on the front of the red turbans. The black turbans had no symbol. Amir guessed they were mosque workers with no rank. The red turbans were the exalted judges.
“Uncle, why do the judges wear scorpion badges on their head wraps?” Amir asked.
“The scorpion symbolizes their high status and represents death and rebirth. It is an emblem from ancient times.”
Amir admired the rich fabric of their robes and large stature. One judge had the blackest beard he had ever seen. The man’s face appeared swollen, and his stomach ballooned out like it might pop at any minute. He ate well.
As the crowd swelled, the fat judge took a cloaked figure from the back of the wagon. She wore the burqa of a widow. Everyone could see the shackles around her ankles and wrists. The judge took her to the center of the bowl and pushed her to her knees. He forced her head down and said something to the shaken figure veiled in loose clothing, her head hooded.
The workers brought over a dun-colored horse blanket and covered the woman, who was only a lump on the rocks. They retreated, and the elder judge, a tall and thin man with a white beard, stood at the head of the brown lump and pronounced his judgment.
“Brothers, here before you is a whore of the slums who has broken her covenant with God to remain chaste in honor of her husband, martyred in God’s war against the tyranny of the state.”
The blanket sobbed and begged mercy at the older judge’s feet.
Amir’s legs shook, and his throat went dry. The pitiful sounds of the condemned shot through him. She sounded like the cry of his newborn sheep, whom he swore to protect.
A villager behind Amir spoke in a low tone to the man beside him. “She wouldn’t allow the fat judge to desecrate her womanhood, and that’s why he is having her murdered.”
The second man replied, “We must rid our land of these vipers and hypocrites.”
The judge droned on. “… And for these crimes against the commandments of God, we sentence you to death.” The elderly judge then commanded the crowd to stone the woman. Three men immediately ran into the bowl, picked up a stone, and struck the woman with as much force as possible. The crowd cheered. More followed until a hail of rocks arched and fell on the condemned.
Amir flinched at the sound of it all. Horror gripped him to witness the bloodlust. Now, young boys gathered and hurled stones.
Subinyá picked up two rocks and handed Amir one.
“No, uncle, I won’t do this barbaric thing.”
“You must. The judges watch to see who doesn’t dirty their hands in innocent blood. They will drag you into the pit of these scorpions as an apostate.”
The stone flew straight from Subinyá’s hand, catching the woman in the head under the blood-soaked blanket. The lump finally collapsed and flattened. “Throw the stone, boy. Be merciful to end her suffering.”
Amir threw the stone. There was no reaction under the blanket. He turned and pushed through the crowd, kneeled behind a boulder, and vomited.
The naïve shepherd boy tried to wipe his mouth and stand. A man jerked him up and shook him. Amir looked into the dark eyes of a devil. The corpulent judge held him by his smock with one hand.
“You effeminate apostate. Explain why you shouldn’t join the whore in death.” Amir trembled in shock. His head rolled on his shoulders as the scorpion judge shook him.
“He is no apostate. He was ill. We came to honor God’s will,” said Subinyá.
Black beard released his grip, and Subinyá caught Amir and held him at his side to keep him upright.
The fat judge glared at the two shepherds. Evil on his face caused Subinyá to step back. “We need him to be one of our martyrs to fight against the corrupt government. I will call for him when I’m ready,” the judge said.
Author’s Note: And now the three keystones to the story, Whispers of the Desert, are laid down. In the Opening we received the back story of the woman who now lies brutally murdered in the bowl of stones. The story opens with an excerpt from Isaiah the Old Testament Prophet describing the iniquity of the Israelites. And now sometime in history the ancient city of Isaiah continues to bear witness to the iniquity of Humankind.
Twenty-six years ago, I experienced the horror of witnessing the stoning of a woman whose sin was refusing sex to her brother-in-law. Her memory never left me and I still hear the terrible sounds of stones striking her body. She has visited me many times in my dreams and asks me why brave men let her die. The answer is in war everyone is disposable except the leaders and those still alive to claim victory. Innocence is never enough to buy back one’s life from those with evil intent.
Through her sacrifice, the woman in black becomes the guiding light for young Amir. He will never forget her or the cruelty of the hypocrite judges. His religion and the attending corruption of men creates the conflict Amir must resolve. He must chose a side and his choice will make him a holy prophet of change or a criminal of unspeakable terror.
This first draft only has very basic editing and is presented to you in its raw form. The story will improve over time and the final book will be published for free download or reading in Hyperion’s Library on this website.
Thank you dear reader for your time and I hope this story will find it’s way with your regard.
Hyperion Sky 
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