LI Story-Writing Contest '08 - The Stories

AssalamuAlaykum

The order in which they were posted...

In the dead of the night

Loud sobs began to fill the air. I peeked around the corner cautiously; in the distance there stood was a young man. Tears were falling abundantly from his eyes, splatting onto his cheeks, soaking them. Although no one else was present, it was as if he was speaking to someone, almost begging, or so it seemed. His words were vague; the more I tired to listen, the further they diffused into the air. The scene was almost surreal.

In an attempt to recognize him, I tried to fix my gaze on the young man, but it was useless as my eye lids began to flutter with every effort. He looked so familiar but I failed to identify him as my eyelids continued to flutter, becoming more furious with every attempt I tried to focus them on him. I was loosing focus.

Closing.
Opening.
Closing.
Opening, in a repetitious motion.
Finally they were flung wide open, fixed staring at the wall opposite me.
Alas, I had regained consciousnesses. Something didn’t feel right though and I felt unsettled. I lay there wide awake, staring obliviously at the opposite wall, frozen with alarm. ‘What an absurd dream!’ I thought. I blinked slowly with confusion. Once. Twice. Thrice. I began slipping back into unconsciousness. Snippets of my dream reoccurring as my eyelids closed. Consequently, I fought with my body to stay awake, as I was too afraid to fall back asleep.

In the midst of my combat against my body, I realised that the sobs still continued. Only this time they were a lot milder. ‘Was I still dreaming,’ I wondered to myself. Still slightly frightened, I lifted myself up cautiously and looked around me; nay, I was very much wide awake as I recognized my room décor.

‘But where were the sobs coming from?’ I asked myself. ‘Who would be crying at this hour? It was in the dead of the night, who on earth would be awake now, and more importantly, why would they be crying?’ Questions flew through my head. But I knew they weren’t going to be answered by me sitting here in wonder. I needed to investigate, and I was eager to find out.

I threw my blanket over my shoulders and slipped into my slippers, as I got out of bed. The night was cold; I could hear a chilly breeze whistleling outside, beating gently against the doors and windows. Keeping a sharp ear out, I headed towards the direction of the sobs. They were coming from down the hall. I followed their sound until they lead me outside Ismails room. My brother?! Why was he up? ‘Forget that’ I thought, Why was he even crying to begin with? I continued down the hallway to his room, and paused outside the door. It was closed. Hmm, strange, it usually wasn’t. I contemplated walking in without knocking to comfort him, but my thought was immediately banished when I heard him speak. His words continued, as did his sobs. I couldn’t make out what he was saying though. I leaned closer and pressed my ears against his closed door. My heart raced, I inhaled deeply as my ears feasted themselves on his recitation. I opened his bedroom door slowly, and peeked in. There I saw an awesome sight. He stood, engrossed in prayer with tears falling from his eyes, soaking his cheeks. This scene was all too familiar, I recalled seeing it somewhere. But where, I thought. Suddenly, I remembered my dream. I gulped. It was as of it were coming to life right before me. This time, however, the scene was awesome and peaceful, not frightening. Light from the hallway flooded his room. ‘Dang!’ I thought to myself, biting my lip, fearing that I had disturbed him. But he didn’t seem to be phased by it though, in fact, he didn’t seem to even realise. With evident humbleness, I saw him continue, beseeching his Lord wholeheartedly. It was as if he was heartbroken. I could almost see him breaking apart on the inside in regret, asking for forgiveness from his lord at the realisation of his sins. ‘Sins?!’ I asked myself in shock, interrupting my own thought. ‘What sins could he have possibly have committed?! Maybe the ones he gave wealth away in charity, or perhaps the one where he completed his prayers on time, or maybe the ones where he was kind to everyone. I bet he even went to lengths to conceal this deed too. Where were these sins coming from?’ I continued asking in astonishment. The possibilities were endless.

Deep down though, I knew that the sincere people where the ones who worried about there sins, and who wept over their state. Not the insincere ones like me. I was too engrossed in my own self to care about anything or anybody else. Even if it where my self.
Feelings of regret and frustration began to stir inside in me. At none other than myself. “Why couldn’t I be more like him?” I asked myself, sighing. Tears bean to well up in my eyes, and to the floor I slowly crumbled; the wall I was leaning on supporting me. Now I was the one heartbroken. NAy, it was me that needed to ask for forgiveness. Spending my time in relaxation and over indulgence. Barely moving towards good. It was as if doing that extra deed was like climbing a steep hill.

Tiresome.
Aching.
Leg muscles tightening, just barely carrying you.

Heart over pumping but all the while knowing that if you were to give up then and there, you’d fall and get nowhere. But at the sometime, if you were to keep going, your physical agony would continue. That’s what it felt like to reach the top of the hill. That’s what it felt like to reach home.

That was my personal battle to continue the little deeds I was performing. ‘Why did it have to be like that, though?’ I asked myself. Why was it so easy for one person to do so many good deeds, but so hard for another to be consistent with the little they had? The frustration inside me waged.

Suddenly, my heart took a turn. For the better. I didn’t want to be like me anymore. I was fed up with me. I wanted a new lease on life. A good one; where I’d strive patiently and consistently. With ease however, not hardship. A new one where I wanted my voice heard. My voice for Islam. Not verbally loud though, rather through my God given talents.

My tears had stopped and the fire of enthusiasm had ignited in my heart. My eyebrows were lowered, and a deep frown began to form on my face. I was in deep thought and contemplation.

I decided that I needed a sword. This sword was going to be my god given gifts. It will only be waged in the path of Allah, for Allah, for the sake of Islam. With whatever means I had. I decided even the very footsteps I took; perhaps even my every thought that crossed my mind would be in the way of Allah. It would be towards making this Ummah a better one. A healed one; free from the shackles of bitter differences. free of worries and miseries; of us being use and abused by those who couldn’t care less about us; by our ruthless enemies. It would be towards my brothers and sisters living in ease and comfort. I was going to be a brick fixed into the wall called our Ummah, I decided firmly. Supporting my brothers and sisters in the same way bricks are used to support one another to structure a wall. We were going to stand firm together, our creed was going to be the cement that stuck us together, no matter what was thrown at us we will stand upright and firm, helping one another in face of ease and adversity, firmly interlocked. Unbreakable.

If writing a poem was going to motivate someone to do something good, than so be it, a poem I will write. If a piece of advice was going to ease the pain of a Muslim, than I will sit with them until their pains are eased. If refuting an attack on Islam was needed, I will make my voice heard. I will use the tongue, the one my mother has always threatened to cut off I don’t keep it at bay, to defend The Truth. I’ll make sure she will be proud of it this time.

It wasn’t going to be about me anymore. The old selfish me was going to be dead and buried, as far as I was concerned. To see a Muslim happy will make me happy, even if they were on the opposite ends of the planet. That would ease my personal pain. I didn’t need to worry about me, as long as my sisters and brothers are happy, than I, Inshallah, would be happy too!

I liked the sound of the new me. I knew that we will get along great. But I also knew that my intentions could not simply be wishful thinking, I had to work for them, hard. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow morning to start my mission. For all knew I may not even face it. Perhaps with a Dua to Allah to help me succeed and grant me patience was my starting point. I didn’t care, I was ready to do that, there was simply no time to waste. All I knew that my mission was to start right here. right now, in the dead of the night.