Turns out that dead people can sleep, but I still wasn't sure if I had to, but I thought better safe than sorry. This was my first morning in the World of the Dead, the sun was up but still hidden by the tall dunes. The pale bronze light seemed to flow over the top of the dunes causing the sand to gleam. The slow spread of the wash of light was intoxicating, it was getting stronger, from a light chestnut to a burnished copper, the light moved like syrup.

Me-Rosh stirred and gave a loud burp. Not wanting to disturb his sleep, I said a quick goodbye under my breath and started walking towards the east. The twists and turns that a small trail ran at the depths of the dunes turned an easy stroll into a long marathon, plus there was no way I'd know where I was, if I was going in a good direction at all. So every so often I'd struggle up a dune to get a view.

As I struggled up to the top of the fifth dune of the morning, I was surprised to a long caravan of camels and people several dune tops away. I shouted as loudly as I could, but no one seemed to notice. I watched the caravan move for a few minutes, just so I could get an idea as to what direction they were headed, and then I rolled down the dune and started jogging in what I thought was a good route.

Turns out my sense of direction was pretty good now that I was dead, because within twenty minutes, when I topped the next dune, the caravan was only two dunes from where I now was. I tried shouting again, and someone waved back at me. At that exact moment I heard a distant growing roar. The man waving at me must have heard the same thing, because he immediately started up and down the caravan, motioning frantically. The roar was getting closer, I looked around trying to see what was making the noise. I did see what I thought was a flock of birds, but they appeared to be moving faster than natural. The caravan had stopped and people were making the camels lie down, and they were covering them with cloth.

Almost instantly the flock of birds were on us. What I though were bird though, seemed to be angels, or at least they looked like angels. They were people, very bright though, their clothes were brilliant white, shinning in the late morning sun. Each person seemed to have wings, at least there was trailing shafts of yellow light coming from each outstretched arm. The roar was actually singing, each person in the flying flock was singing a ragged hymn, but every person seemed to be singing either a different song, or a different verse of the same some. It was such a discordant sound that it came across as guttural and animalistic.

The flock moved quickly over me and the caravan, but it seemed to last longer and linger, I thought for a second, that the sound would swallow me up, that my body was going to be shaken apart, torn to pieces by the waves of sound and noise. Gratefully, the flock sped off and the roar was soon gone. After another moment, I saw that the caravan people were taking off the camouflage, rousing the camels, and making moves to start again.

Johnny Reaches the Caravan

Once I got close enough to the caravan, I began shouting in greeting. I certainly did not want to surprise anyone. The last few camels slowed and stopped, there was shouting up and down the caravan, and the whole thing came to a lazy halt. A large man in shaggy robes dismounted a camel and stepped back to me. His arms were outstretched and he grabbed me in a massive bear hug. I felt the bones in my back crack and pop in complaint.

"Talofa, friend! Welcome to the Moki Caravan, may your years be light and dark, and with failure to see your heels in the distance."

"Thank you, uhm, my name is John, John Smith."

"Pleasure. I am Praher Maher Shal Baz. You are welcome, and my call me Pra, if you wish. Come, let me introduce you to the Caravan."

We spent the rest of the day moving up and down the line of camels, people, and beasts. Pra took the time to show me how to greet the camels, which were towering animals, much larger than what I thought camels would have been back in the world of the living. I wondered if what was going on here was better than back in the world. While I was lost in thought, I heard a loud cry from the head of the caravan.

Pra grabbed my shoulder, "Here, you should come to witness this.""What is going on?" I asked.

"It seems we have come across an al-Maqtul."

"A what?"

"Apologies. I forgot you are new here. The al-Maqtul means the Slain. They are hearers of Chyme, they follow him in this world, though why I do not know. No one seems to know why."As we moved closer to the front, I began to hear some guttural form of chanting, or at least that is what it sounded like. The voice would go in and out, sometimes it seemed like she was saying words I could recognize, then dropping into an impressive range, at least for a woman. Pra stopped, and stepped aside for me to see.

The woman was young. Her hair was matted and very, very black. It was hard to tell if she was sunburnt or just terribly filthy, her clothes were dusty, stained, and falling apart. And she stared at us with piercing red eyes. The other members of the caravan were talking animatedly amongst themselves. Pra stepped over to the group, listened for a while and then came back to me, shaking his head.

"They have decided they will take her in. I think this unwise."

"Why? Who is she? What is she?"

"Ah, my friend, that explanation requires a story."

I should have known.

The Murdered Master

"In the world of the living there was a Muslim master by the name of Shihab al-din. Shihab al-din was known as the Murdered Master. He lived in Persia. His mother was a courtesan in the Egyptian courts and was known for her skills as a dancer. We know nothing about al-din's father, it is assumed that he was a high ranking official who had taken an interest in al-din's mother, but wished to keep their trysts secret. al-din worked in various positions in several different households, sometimes as a scribe, sometimes as an instructor of children."

"When al-din was 27, he took an ill fated trip to Mecca, on the way his caravan was beset by raiders, al-din was spared due to a terrible sandstorm that drove the raiders off. As al-din struggled back to his home he had a vision of light."

Pra stepped into the shade of a camel, and gestured for me to sit.

"He was known as the Murdered Master, for he was slain for heretical teachings. al-din taught a complex and profound cosmology, in which all creation is an ongoing outflow from the original Supreme Light of Lights."

"In this philosophy the most basic form of matter is pure immaterial light, and nothing exists which does not emanate from the Supreme Light. In other words, the universe and all levels of existence are but varying degrees of Light—light and darkness. In his division of bodies, he categorizes objects in terms of their reception or non-reception of light."

"He wrote a long book, which he titled The Philosophy of Illumination. Wherein he criticized the religious leaders of his time. So they took him and pronounced judgment upon him. He was sealed into the blackest cave they could find, but not before he was poisoned with all types of venom. His followers spent days crying and wailing outside of the sealed entrance, it was said that they heard al-din's screams for ten days before he finally went silent."

"When he entered this world he was amazed by the celestial quality of light. Everywhere he went it seemed he found new astounding scenes and glorious light. This further cemented his thoughts about Creation and the purposes we all serve, knowingly or unknowingly. But al-din was frustrated, as he traveled though the World of the Dead he found no direction, no path. They say he was driven mad a second time."

"He began to call himself Chyme, and his followers, of which this woman is one, spend they days wandering the wastes, and they speak nothing but those wordless chants. Some believe these are only mimicking the wailing of the dying al-din."

"You noticed her eyes, yes?"

"Yeah. They were red, like blazing red." I answered.

"Yes, the followers of Chyme use a dangerous dye to stain their eyes. It is a practice they believe help them to see the True Light. I understand it is very painful."

We sat in silence. Listening to the chanting ramblings of the woman as she was led to a free camel. Watching the sun dip lower and lower to the horizon, and seeing the woman's eyes glow down at me from atop her camel.