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Written for "In Oz Drabble Tree No One Can Hear You Scream". Prompt: He'd die in Oz.
A Just Life
Mukada gave his life to God.
Playing the devoted servant, he gave hope to the lost and misguided, the destitute and forgotten. Every day was a trial of human will and he prided himself on keeping to the straight (if not more difficult) path.
Truth be told, he rarely thought about the just rewards at the end of such a life. It was altogether too selfish a consideration for a man of the cloth to ruminate on. But during the riots, as chaos burned and the putrid stink of death and anarchy assaulted his senses, he really thought God had decided he'd die in Oz.
And all he remembered feeling was how fucking unfair it was.
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