What Pegman Saw: The house of Dajjal

Dajjal’s house was an eyesore.

Corrugated iron sheets rusted over the front door, the balcony was crumbling, buttressed by wormy wooden posts. People would retell the story of the day the railing gave way, when metal poles and curlicues pocked the street and concussed Ori the grocer.

Food rotted in the kitchen, the floors rippled with rats and the drains flooded in the annual rains, turning the street into an impassable sewer for weeks.

Still, no town inspector visited. Dajjal was never reported by his neighbours for the stench, the ticks or the occasional outbreak of Weil’s disease.

Instead, they nodded courteously if he was sitting on his front step smoking his evil smelling cigarettes, though each house kept planks by the door to lay over the filth when the street was in flood.

When your neighbour is the Antichrist, you show respect.

***

Written for What Pegman Saw, the prompt with Google Street View as its inspiration. This week, we visit the Israeli city of Lod.

Whilst reading a little of the history of this city, I discovered a couple of interesting snippets.

Firstly, the UK’s patron saint, George, is reported to be buried there.

Secondly – and the snippet that inspired my story – is the fact that according to Islamic tradition, the Antichrist – Dajjal – will be killed on a battlefield in the city before The Day of Judgement. I just imagined what Dajjal might do while he was waiting for that day.

25 thoughts on “What Pegman Saw: The house of Dajjal

      1. You portrayed this no-good shopkeeper through the side-eyes of his neighbors, and we are appalled at the filth, the vermin, the delapidation to the point of injury, and then, we read your last line and your comment, and say, of course.

        What interesting scraps of information and imagination you have sewn together!

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  1. There is something so incredibly ancient about some places, like Israel, that it can be hard to imagine them existing in the present day with all of our present day concerns, like repairing a balcony. I was walking through the Jewish quarter of Jerusalem once, mulling over the history of it, and heard Metallica blasting from a window. So bizarre. And then you throw in the Antichist. Well done, Lynn.

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    1. It’s an interesting juxtaposition, isn’t it, the way these places have the modern rubbing shoulders with the ancient. It ‘s an uncomfortable contrast but the residents need to live a modern life just like the rest of us. Metallica in Jerusalem, though? That does sound bizarre. Thanks so much for reading Walt

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  2. Reminds a bit of the old joke:
    My mother’s sister was a formidable woman, she really was—she was some auntie, Christ!

    Seriously though, your punchline sent shivers down my spine. Excellent.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks so much Chris. I like the idea of supernatural beings moving amongst us, as you may have guessed – that mix of the mundane and the otherworldly rubbing shoulders, hence my love of and excitement for the upcoming Good Omens. 31st of May on Amazon. Roll on Armageddon 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  3. The last line really takes it to a new level. Enjoyed how he is rendered by the impressions of his neighbors. The imagery crackles.

    Not a neighbor I’d like to have.

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    1. Ha! Me neither. I liked the idea that his house disintegrates round him just because of who he is, because the Antichrist brings destruction just by his very nature. I’ll stick with the neighbours I’ve got! Thanks for reading Karen

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks so much Lish! So glad you liked it. Loved that idea of decay around the Antichrist, something he has no power over, it’s just his nature to bring about destruction. Thanks again

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  4. Dear Lynn,

    Fantastic piece, so well told, I felt the need to hold my nose to keep out the stench. I think I’d consider moving to another neighborhood. The last line is a zinger. Brilliant writing as always.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

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