You won’t find my name in any surah. I was just a shepherd boy when the Prophet Lut — known in English as Lot — walked past my family’s fields each morning, his face calm but his eyes full of worry.
Our town was called Sodom. It was a rich place, surrounded by green fields and flowing rivers. But even as a child, I could feel something was wrong there. The people laughed at the truth and chased after what was wicked. They stole, hurt strangers, and broke the natural laws Allah created. Prophet Lut warned them again and again, but they mocked him. They only grew worse.
I remember one evening clearly. I was sitting by a well, tying my sandals, when I heard voices. Prophet Lut had entered the market square and was calling out to the people.
“O my people,” he said, “why do you commit such a sin no people before you ever did? Do you go to men with desire instead of women? This is something truly shameful.” He spoke kindly, with deep sadness in his voice. He only wanted to save them. But they shouted over him. Some even threw stones in his path.
I watched him from behind a cart, too afraid to step forward. I wanted to believe him. My mother had told me long ago that Lut was a righteous man, a messenger of Allah. But I was just a boy—what could I do?
Later that night, my father came home angry. “Lut thinks he’s better than us,” he said. “If he doesn’t stop, we’ll drive him out!”
I asked quietly, “But why does he keep warning us?”
My father glared. “Because he wants to control us. Don’t listen to him. Nothing will happen.”
But something did happen.
One morning, the sky turned red. The ground shook beneath my feet. My animals screamed and ran, and the mountains around us trembled. Prophet Lut and a few believers had already left the city—his wife stayed behind, and I later learned she was among those punished.
Stones rained from the sky like fire. The buildings where people had laughed and sinned collapsed into dust. The very earth rose up and flipped, burying everything. I ran and ran, tears streaming down my face, calling on Allah even though I had been too silent for so long.
I survived only because I had been out in the pastures. But I never saw my family again.
Now, I live in a small village far from what used to be Sodom. I teach the children about the mercy of Allah — and His justice. I tell them the story of Prophet Lut, peace be upon him. Not because I want to scare them, but because they must understand:
Lut loved his people. He begged them to return to what is good and pure. But they rejected both him and Allah’s guidance.
And it cost them everything.
Story Note: Inspired by the story of Prophet Lut (Lot) in Surah Al-A’raf (7:80–84) and classical tafsir traditions such as those found in the works of Ibn Kathir.
You won’t find my name in any surah. I was just a shepherd boy when the Prophet Lut — known in English as Lot — walked past my family’s fields each morning, his face calm but his eyes full of worry.
Our town was called Sodom. It was a rich place, surrounded by green fields and flowing rivers. But even as a child, I could feel something was wrong there. The people laughed at the truth and chased after what was wicked. They stole, hurt strangers, and broke the natural laws Allah created. Prophet Lut warned them again and again, but they mocked him. They only grew worse.
I remember one evening clearly. I was sitting by a well, tying my sandals, when I heard voices. Prophet Lut had entered the market square and was calling out to the people.
“O my people,” he said, “why do you commit such a sin no people before you ever did? Do you go to men with desire instead of women? This is something truly shameful.” He spoke kindly, with deep sadness in his voice. He only wanted to save them. But they shouted over him. Some even threw stones in his path.
I watched him from behind a cart, too afraid to step forward. I wanted to believe him. My mother had told me long ago that Lut was a righteous man, a messenger of Allah. But I was just a boy—what could I do?
Later that night, my father came home angry. “Lut thinks he’s better than us,” he said. “If he doesn’t stop, we’ll drive him out!”
I asked quietly, “But why does he keep warning us?”
My father glared. “Because he wants to control us. Don’t listen to him. Nothing will happen.”
But something did happen.
One morning, the sky turned red. The ground shook beneath my feet. My animals screamed and ran, and the mountains around us trembled. Prophet Lut and a few believers had already left the city—his wife stayed behind, and I later learned she was among those punished.
Stones rained from the sky like fire. The buildings where people had laughed and sinned collapsed into dust. The very earth rose up and flipped, burying everything. I ran and ran, tears streaming down my face, calling on Allah even though I had been too silent for so long.
I survived only because I had been out in the pastures. But I never saw my family again.
Now, I live in a small village far from what used to be Sodom. I teach the children about the mercy of Allah — and His justice. I tell them the story of Prophet Lut, peace be upon him. Not because I want to scare them, but because they must understand:
Lut loved his people. He begged them to return to what is good and pure. But they rejected both him and Allah’s guidance.
And it cost them everything.
Story Note: Inspired by the story of Prophet Lut (Lot) in Surah Al-A’raf (7:80–84) and classical tafsir traditions such as those found in the works of Ibn Kathir.
