LI Writing Contest '10-The Entries!

Fishing wisdom

It is one of the spring peaceful days, the sky is wide and blue as the ocean and the
cotton shape white clouds are sailing through it quietly, the cold breeze is playing
with the trees leaves gently and the blossoming wild flowers covering the wet soil as
a florid rug and spreading their beautiful aroma around…
This day is the promised and desired day for Muhammad the seven years old son of
Abdullah; the young man who embraced Islam ten years ago…
Abdullah has promised his son Muhammad of a big fishing day as a prize for finishing
memorizing the first three chapters of the Noble Qur`aan…
And here is Muhammad; jumping from happiness and shouting:
- We are going to catch our dinner, right dad?
Abdullah said while he was busy filling the car trunk with the necessary stuff for the
trip:
- Yes, in shaa Allah son…
Then Abdullah closed the car`s trunk putting his warm hand on his son`s head
saying:
- So, you are ready now my champ, ha?
Muhammad with a big smile on his face:
-Off course and I am so excited.
Abdullah smiled in return:
-Then get into the car and let's fly to that lake son.
They both ride the car and before leaving the pregnant mother Azimah (who
embraced Islam after marrying Abdullah) was shouting to them:
-Hey…you forgot the baits.
She ran towards the car and handed the baits to her husband smiling gently
and saying:
-Was about to sleep with an empty stomach, big foot.
Abdullah said while rubbing his head:
-Naaah, I would come up with some ideas.
Azimah laughed to say:
-Yeah, I know you mister genius.
With a loud laughter; Abdullah said:
-Ok, may I leave now big stomach?
Azimah gently smiled and said:
-Yes of course. May Allah be with you both Ameen
Abdullah replied:
-And you too Ameen. Please take care of yourself honey.
Azimah replied comforting her husband who is worried to leave his pregnant
beloved wife alone in the house since she is in her last month of pregnancy:
-Don`t worry about us, we are under the Most Merciful sight and care.
Abdullah said:
- I told you before; we can postpone this day till after giving birth for our
baby… Azimah!! Don`t be stubborn.
Azimah looked at her husband`s eyes and said in a low tone:
-look at our son; he is so happy and excited Abdullah! And I don`t think
that you want to break his little heart now and at this happy moment of
him, right?
Abdullah took a deep breath then step on the fuel saying:
-Ok then, don`t forget the potato salad which you promised me.
Azimah laughed loudly to say:
-How would I?
Muhammad got out of the car window reminding:
-And the ice cream too mama.
Azimah replied:
-And that too my sweet heart…
Please take care of yourselves.
Abdullah moved away waving with his hand and saying:
-Don`t worry, we too under The Most Merciful sight and care.
While Azimah was watching the car disappears; she raised both of her
hands praying to Allah:
-O Allah, Be my Protector, my husband and children…Ameen
After few minutes in the car, Muhammad was singing some nasheeds
while Abdullah was watching him and smiling for the happiness his son
living…
Then Abdullah asked:
-Are you happy, champ?
Muhammad replied while smiling:
-Yes, I can`t wait to be there dad.
Abdullah:
-Be patient son, only few miles then will be fishing our diner in shaa Allah.
After 21 minutes; Abdullah and his son arrived and they were so amazed by the
beauty of the nature around them; the snow-capped mountain peaks which lie
behind the emerald lake, the flourishing green trees and the fresh green grass mat
which adorned with the wild purple Iris. It was so refreshing for both of them;
inhaling the fresh cold air in the arms of the nature there.
Abdullah and his son prepared the fishing tools in minutes then sat on the shore of
the lake after fixing the fishing rod waiting for their diner to catch the bait.
After a while, in wonderment; Abdullah asked himself looking at his son; who was
silent staring at the small waves of the lake`s crystal water:
-What does this little precious brain thinking of?
Then he gently strokes the back of his son asking:
-Where did you go, son?
Muhammad looked at his father with his innocent brown eyes smiling, but the look
of discomfort was apparent on his face so, Abdullah asked:
-What is the matter son? Don`t you like this?
Muhammad:
-No, not that dad but I was thinking.
Abdullah asked:
-Of what son?
Muhammad kept on silent for few seconds before asking hesitantly:
-Dad! …Is it right that we have to hate non Muslims?
Abdullah smiled looking forward then asked his son calmly:
-Who told you this, son?
Muhammad sadly answered:
- Our art teacher.
Abdullah said no word staring at the fishing rod for a while, then with a deep voice
he called:
-Muhammad!
Muhammad responded to his father while his eyes were getting filled with the
childish warm tears for the feeling of guilt, thinking that he has ruined the big fishing
day which is supposed to be the happiest beautiful memory for both of them.
Abdullah said:
-Muhammad! Listen to me son, I know that you are so honest and will always tell the
truth so, I am going to ask you and you answer me from your heart and try to
understand me, ok?
Muhammad nodded his head positively while looking towards the lake then
Abdullah asked:
-Son, what if your mother was a non Muslim, her brothers, their sons and daughters
too, would you hate her, your uncles and cousins?
Muhammad`s eyes got wide and directly raised his head looking at his father so
surprised to answer in negative:
-Nooo…
His father looked towards him kindly and asked calmly:
-Then why to do so with strangers?
No response from Muhammad, so his father continued:
-Son, Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta`aalaa says in His Noble Qur`aan:
"The food of those who have received the Scripture is lawful for you, and your food
is lawful for them. And so are the virtuous women of the believers and the virtuous
women of those who received the Scripture before you (lawful for you) when ye give
them their marriage portions and live with them in honour"
So, would Allah want us to hate them by making a kinship between us and them?
And says Sub`haanahu Wa Ta`aalaa:" Allah does not forbid you to deal justly and
kindly with those who fought not against you on account of religion and did not drive
you out of your homes. Verily, Allah loves those who deal with equity. "
So, is hatred what Allah was talking about in that verse son? And Abdullah repeated:
-To deal justly and kindly.
Abdullah held his son`s shoulder and said:
-look at me champ.
Muhammad looked at his father with his teary eyes saying:
-I am sorry dad.
In wonderment, Abdullah asked:
-For what?
Muhammad cried so hard and with a trembling sad voice; he said:
-It is my fault, I ruined our big day, and It was supposed to be a happy day but I
didn`t mean…
And before completing his words his father took him in his arms and said:
-Come here son, you ruined nothing but you got to know that; I am really happy
today more than any day. Do you know why?
Muhammad moved his head in negative which was on the chest of his father; then
Abdullah gave the answer saying:
-Because today you have proved for me that you are an amazing Muslim man and a
real slave and servant of Allah.
Abdullah took his son`s head between his hands looking at his innocent face and
wiping the tears of his son with his warm fingers, saying:
-Son, you did nothing wrong.
Muhammad was listening to his father words and looking at his compassionate eyes
then Abdullah pointed to the chest of his son and continued saying:
-You have a real pure heart within this big chest my champ, Ma shaa Allah.
Muhammad sadly said:
-But I was thinking about it dad.
Abdullah smiled saying:
-And you asked me about it then what does that mean but your beautiful white
heart couldn`t accept it and meant that that matter has annoyed you so much son
and forced you to wonder and ask, am I right son?
Muhammad took a deep breath saying:
-Yes dad, and to be honest with you; last night I couldn`t sleep well thinking about it
and I too remembered you dad.
Abdullah laughed and asked:
-Me son?
Muhammad smiled saying:
-Yes dad, I remembered when you told me that our prophet Muhammad (peace and
blessings of Allah be upon him) used to say: love for your brother what you love for
yourself and remembered when you said to me that all human beings in this world
are brothers and sisters for we have one father and one mother.
Abdullah smiled and asked:
-So, do you believe in that son?
Muhammad:
-Sure, I do.
Abdullah asked:
-And are you happy for being a Muslim?
Muhammad answered directly:
-I love to be a Muslim always and forever.
Abdullah said:
-Then son, as long as you believe in our prophet and his words (peace and blessings
of Allah be upon him) then you must love for your brothers and sisters in humanity
what you love for yourself!
Muhammad asking:
-To be Muslims?
Abdullah affirmed:
-Yes son, and that love won`t ever fill heart if hatred is taking its place, understood
me?
Muhammad smiled:
-Yes dad.
Abdullah smiled and held his son with one arm saying:
-Come here my big man.
But still, there was a question concerns Muhammad so, he asked:
-Dad! What about our teacher? Is he a bad person?
Abdullah put his hand on his son`s head answering in negative:
-No son, don`t say this about him. He just misunderstood the mercy and wisdom of
Allah. May Allah guide him and all of us Ameen.
Muhammad:
-Should I talk to him?
Abdullah was talking to himself:
-I wish from that teacher to stick to his art and leave those children alone in peace.
Muhammad:
-What have you said dad?
Abdullah:
-Oh, no son. Just leave him to me in shaa Allah, ok champ?
Muhammad:
-Yes.
Suddenly, the fishing string has pulled so hard; Abdullah jumped on his feet catching
the fishing rod and pulled it strongly and calmly saying:
-Son, I need your help in here.
Muhammad held the rod with his father and they both started pulling their diner.
Then Abdullah in amazement:
-Wow, it must be a huge fish.
They pulled together but then the thing which was pulling the fishing string got
released while Abdullah and his son were pulling it from the other side with all of
their strength so, they fell on their backs on the ground so hard.
Abdullah looked at his son who was staring up without even blinking so, in fear he
asked:
-Are you ok?
But there was no response so, he again shouted repeatedly:
-Son? Son? Muhammad?
Then Muhammad wondered while looking up:
-Is that our diner dad?
Abdullah looked up to see a big black boot dangling above their heads so, he exhaled
his fear and laughed saying:
-I don`t think so.
Then both of them burst into laughing.
When the dusk came; the door of Azimah has been knocked so, she left the kitchen
opening the door to find her husband carrying two big fishes and another big one
was in her son little hands.
Abdullah directly asked:
-Where is my salad?
His wife laughed to say:
-Waiting for you on the table, I don`t know who has the big stomach here?
After 20 minutes for the three fishes on the griller; the family starts having the best
happy dinner of an amazing fishing trip which will be printed in the memory of a
small innocent child forever.

Hajj


Mannan is very happy. He is going to Hajj for the third time with family. His father is a rich businessman and he goes to hajj every year. Mannan is 13 now and he is very excited for the coming hajj.

Mannan went to his friend Aiman to share the good news and found him crying . ‘ What’s wrong , Aiman ? Why are you crying like this ? Pl. tell me ” , Mannan urged .


“ My dad has kidney failure problem and he is going to die ” - said Aiman . Mannan could not believe his ears. What ?? Hamid Uncle will die ? What will happen to Aiman and his little brother Sonu then ? Who will pay for their study , for their food , who will take them to mosque for salat and Quran class ?

Mannan thought for few seconds - what if his dad dies suddenly ? Mannan’s younger twin sisters Samaha and Rania are only 4 years old ; may be they won’t remember dad when grow up .


Mannan asked , “ how can we save your dad , Aiman ? ”

Aiman became more sad , “ It’s not possible . Dad’s needs a new kidney . Mostafa uncle is ready to donate his kidney but the doctor’s fees , operation charge and medicines will cost us a lot of money . We don’t have that money . So , dad will die without any treatment . We are so helpless . If mom sells her all gold ornaments , still the money won’t be enough for the operation . ”

Mannan came back home crying . Mom and dad were shocked - they never saw their son crying like this . After hearing the news , they also became sad . Yes , they knew that their neighbour is sick but they were so busy with Hajj preparation that did not get time to visit him .

At that time , Kaarina aunty called and talked to Mannan’s mom over phone . Mom said : listen Mannan ; I just talked to your aunt . She has cancelled her Hajj trip as it was her second time and decided to give the money to Aiman’s dad . Why not we also do the same ? We have already performed Hajj . So , instead of doing Hajj one more time , we can donate the money and save a life . Specially when he is our neighbour and your friend’s dad .

Mannan could not believe his ears – what ??
Really it’s possible ? But will dad agree ? He goes to Hajj every year . Will he cancell Hajj this time for Hamid Uncle ?

Before he could ask , dad said : that’s an excellent idea . Sis Kaarina taught us a good lesson . Yes , instead of going to Hajj that is not obligatory for us , we should save a life . Mannan , go and tell your friend , InshaAllah his dad is not going to die without treatment . It will be our Eid gift to your dear friend and I am sure , Allah will be more pleased with us if we do that .

Mannan starts running . He is running to tell his friend a good news - giving his dieing dad a new life InshaAllah .

SHAYTAN FACES THE MUSLIM GIRL


Shaytan was having a hard day. He was unable to find any true challanges to entice into following him into hellfire. The hypocrites and non-believers were no problem. He did not even have to search for them, they flocked to him by the millions every day. They were almost pests and more common then horse flies in a barn on a hot summer day.

"Hmmm" thought Shaytan "I need a real challenge to prove I can mislead anybody" "Where should I look for my prize victim?"

Then it came to him. Go to the Masjid and look for the most innocent person leaving after morning Fajr..He went and waited, soon many came out in a big rush to get to work. He thought "these people may be faithful, but they do not have the piety to stay for saying Du'as" He then decided to wait for the very last person to leave. After what seemed to be a very long wait a very young girl dressed modestly and wearing both a hijab and Niqab came out. Although Shaytan could not see her face or body he knew she was immaculately beautiful by the glow that surrounded her. Here is my challenge he thought.

His evil mind devised a plan to lead this innocent child into his clutches. She was young and pure but she was also at an age when she would have thoughts of marriage and thinking of a man in her arms. This was the weakness he would attack and lead this innocent into the trap of fitnah and zina.

He knew he could not conquer her directly, but he could easily entice a handsome young man who had already tasted and yearned for pleasures of the flesh. It was easy to whisper into this young man and tell him how lovely and desirable that young girl would be. He whispered to the young man ways to be deceitful, flirtatious and filled him with desire for the young girl.

The young man tried to seduce the girl with flirtation, but she scorned and ignored his advances. Shaytan whispered more and urged the man to be more forceful. The young girl did her best to fight him off but he was too big and too strong to fight him. She did her best and fought to her death. As she laid on the ground dieing a peaceful smile crossed her face and her last word was "Allaah(swt)

Shaytan was furious with anger, he struck out at the young man and shouted. "You fool you sent my prize directly to Allaah(swt) and because of you I have lost her forever for she surly will be in Jannah when I enter the Hellfire."

The young man answered "But you now have me?"

"Idiot" Shouted Shaytan "You always were mine, your own lustful desires sent you to me. I did not have to capture you. You ran to me and would still be going to the hellfire even if I had never spoken to you"

Silhouette

My imaginary friend won’t talk to me. He just sits there. Doesn’t look at me, doesn’t listen when I say hello. When I mention Sara. When I joke or shout or tell him to jump out of the window.

Sometimes he tells me to jump out of the window. That can’t be healthy.

But it’s weird. He sits in my flat, at my desk, reading my mail, as if he’s actually there, not just a figment of my imagination. In many ways he’s more real than physical friends. Nobody physical understands me as well as Adam. I suppose it’s hard for actual people to compete - those kind of mates might appear occasionally in your dreams, but imaginary friends are born there.

So in theory, as Adam is a product of my subconscious, he should be easier to live with.

He shifts at the desk. Maybe he’ll talk to me. Most likely he won’t. I guess he’ll dump the mail on the desk, grab the notepad and flop onto the bed. He does almost exactly that, but rather than sitting on the bed, he leans back against the wall, glances at the notepad in his left hand then out of the rain-streaked window on his right.

I know who he’s thinking about. She was my gift to him. He calls her Leyla. And she won’t talk to him.

Huh. What a depressingly poetic place my subconscious is. I mean, come on. Not only are my imaginary friend and I figuratively and literally in the same place, even our partners’ names have two syllables each. Leyla. Sara. God, I almost feel cruel for leaking my issues into Adam’s non-existent life.

I’d laugh if it didn’t mean I was losing my mind.

Back to work. I look at the library book in my lap. I can’t read it anymore, not really. I’ve had enough of Jungian archetypes and the mass unconscious, anima, animus and how everything relates to the theories of Sigmund Freud. It’s all very fascinating but the best explanation it offers is that Adam is a manifestation of my Shadow. And that just can’t be.

Your Shadow is your opposite, your negative, all the anxieties you’ve ever had, will ever have, about yourself and your relations with others, a spectre at every crossroads, a nightmare mist on the edge of your dreams.

That ain’t Adam. I created him when I was five, for crying out loud. We grew up together. Had the same friends, with whom I’d now be partying if his recent antics hadn’t scared them away. And those antics - what to the others must have looked like chairs or cups or plates moving themselves - prove that Adam is more than my dark side. He’s of me but isn’t me.

Bloody hell.

I spin the book onto the pile beside me and slump against the wall. Somewhere among the stack of texts is an explanation. It’s bookmarked and highlighted and I don’t want to read it right now, because across the room, Adam is no longer gazing out of the window. He’s begun to write.

“Dearest Leyla,” his letter will begin, and I will clench my fists and swallow the shout in my throat because once again my imaginary friend will expose my wrongs by showing me how to do it right. As if I can’t work things out myself. Because I can’t work things out myself.

That window Adama’s standing beside looks big enough for the both of us. Just slide it open and dive four storeys to kiss the dirt. No more tension or stress or disappointment on Sara’s face. Hell, no more Sara’s face.

Ah, screw this self-pity crap. I pull out my phone and text her to come over. I know she will, despite the rain and her nagging to get my life in order. She’ll know the fact I called means I want to show her I’m sorting things out. It won’t be a pantomime. I’ll solve this problem at its root.

Across the room, Adam scribbles on the notepad. Grimaces. Tears the page out, crushes it in his fist and hurls it at the bin near the desk. His frustration is delicious. Mr I-Am-All-You’ll-Never-Be with his face in his hands and his back to the wall. Outstanding.

He lifts his hands, fingers parting like he’s playing peek-a-boo. His hands drop to his sides as he stares at me. No fire in his eyes. No words.

So I say one. “Hi.”

And that fire’s back, fuelled by the muscles that set his jaw as he yanks out his phone and begins to text. “Shut up, Danyal.”

That’s the first thing he’s said to me all week, and he spoke while asking his partner to visit, like my very own visual echo. This is why I don’t need mirrors.

What I do need is for him to leave, which he won’t, not while he’s on his imaginary phone to his imaginary woman. And she’ll visit and they’ll argue until she leaves. I’ll have to sleep on the floor because my bed will be stubbornly occupied by my imaginary friend.

That word. Imaginary. Maybe it’s not entirely accurate anymore. Not after that book. I rummage through the stack until I find it. I don’t need the bookmark to find the page, whose ink-bracketed paragraphs contain highlighted words. Tibet. David-Neel. Thought-forms.

Tulpa.

That word slithers through my guts. In the past I would have called it hokum. Some European explorer stumbles upon a bunch of Tibetan monks who teach her how to conjure up a real person with the power of thought alone? I used to laugh at this sort of ghost story, but now… Now it’s the only thing that makes sense.

Across the room Adam is smiling. He nods at the book. “That thing will give you nightmares.” He laughs.

I wonder what else he’s read. It’s disturbing enough that he’s sufficiently independent to figure out this paranormal stuff. I want to wish him away, but I’m making him real.

He stands and looks out of the window. “Leyla is on her way, Danyal.” He looks at me. “So behave yourself.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh, “Ha” after bitter “Ha”. This sort of thing used to amuse, like a dog rolling over for its master. Now the dog’s forgetting its place, and it’s just getting old. I tell him so.

He smiles again, turns away. “See, I disagree.” His hands fold behind him. “I don’t think I give you enough grief.” He looks down his nose at me. “You know what’s really getting old?” He shakes his head and pivots to face me, arms outstretched. “This.”

“This?”

Mad light dances in his eyes. “This whole arrangement. Like we’re flatmates or something.”

“Aren’t we?” It comes out slightly more facetious than I intended.

Adam just closes his eyes and leans against the wall. “I’m trying to think of a polite word for ‘parasite’.”

I can’t resist that set-up. “I think ‘Adam’ is a pretty good one.”

He laughs and it’s almost like the old days of friendly banter and bonding so imaginary it seemed real. But there’s something about the sound of his chuckles and the shake of his shoulders as he quietens, still grinning. “Well.” He looks at the floor. “There we are.” He meets my gaze. Instead of jocularity I see condescension. Contempt. “You’re operating under a faulty assumption, Danyal.”

I know where he’s going with this. “You think you’re real. That you have a soul, and that you’re not imaginary anymore.”

Adam scoffs. “Anymore?” He paces in front of the window, a shadow against a rain-specked rectangle of grey. “Okay, let’s find out how things look from your perspective. Why don’t you like me? What set things off?”

Doesn’t sound like he’s playing games, so I tell the truth. “Your poltergeist routine scared away my friends.”

“What friends?”

What the hell is this? “My real friends. Not imaginary. You scared away my actual, physical friends.”

A strange little smile curls his lips. “Name them.”

Now he’s playing games. “I’m not in the mood for this nonsense.”

“So you don’t know their names.”

“They’re real.”

“I never said they weren’t.” That smile stretches. He walks to the desk, and for some reason I want to punch his non-existent face. “What was I reading at this desk, Danyal?”

He’s in one of his moods. I roll my eyes. “Post. My post. Bills, statements. Things like that.”

Adam grins. “How often do you read them?”

His tone implies I never do, and anger fizzles a chuckle between my lips. “Whenever you give me a chance.”

He picks an envelope off the desk. “Have you ever seen Leyla?”

He’s gone from bills to her? “I didn’t know she was so high-maintenance, Adam.”

He is emotionless. “Answer the question.”

This is what I have to live with. “Of course I’ve seen her. All the time.” Now to stick the knife in and end this retardation. “I invented her.”

Adam turns the envelope over in his hands. “You invented her. To make me happy, right? An imaginary woman for your lonely imaginary friend, that’s what you think?”

“That’s what I know.” It’s self-evident. Now that he finally sees it, maybe we can all move forward. “Does this mean things are changing, Adam? That you’ll stop following me everywhere I go and live happily ever after with Leyla in your newfound independence?”

He passes the envelope from hand to hand. “Why have I never seen Sara?”

I thought I’d welcome Adam acknowledging her existence, but not like this, with stupid, incessant, childish questions. “You’ve never had the pleasure of meeting her.”

“Why not? You said I follow you everywhere.” His words are like machine-gun fire. “Even to the bathroom, which reminds me, why do you never look in the mirror?”

Anger pushes me to my feet. “What is this all about?”

That strange, infuriating smile creases his face and he throws the envelope my way like a Frisbee, followed by two more, which hit me in the face. I lunge toward him.

“Whoa, Danyal.” He swerves out of the way and scrambles for the envelopes I dropped. “Just read them.”

I snatch them off him. Dunno what’s so special about these, bog-standard first-class stamp, my address on each one, my name -

No.

Oh, God. Ice spirals my ribs as I flip through each envelope, rush to the desk and scan the documents on its surface. Bills, balances and job rejections all linked by one name.

Adam’s name.

“I’m not your imaginary friend, Danyal.” He sounds almost sorry. “You’re mine.”

This is ridiculous. Ilogical. A bad dream. “Why haven’t I seen these letters before?”

He breathes a chuckle, bites his lower lip. “You never read the post.” He stifles a laugh at the absurdity.

I want to strangle him. “I don’t have time for your pranks.”

“No pranks.” For a moment, his eyes lose their sheen of arrogance. “Only truth.”

I scoff and move to the window. “Sara will be here soon.” Implicit in my voice is the message, “So stop lying.”

He doesn’t seem to make the inference. “Think about it, Danyal. You can’t name a single one of the friends you claimed I scared off.” He shakes his head. “I would have accepted Steve, Asif or Inderjit as answers.”

“Because you just made them up.” It’s knee-jerk but it might deflect him from the fact that I don’t know their names.

“They’re my friends, Danyal. You scared them off because I can see you and they can’t, and you think you’re real.”

“I am real.” I glare through the window at the rain streaking from sky to concrete car-park. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t even remember that event.”

“But you remembered it from my point of view, as if you were me.”

“Maybe I am you,” I spit between gritted teeth.

His responding laughter is in rhythm with the patter of rain against the window. “No, Danyal. You just share some of my memories. Vaguely, imperfectly. Makes sense, really. Helps you to catch up. I don’t think you had many memories of your own when I finally willed you to life.”

I turn to face him. “Willed me to life? You’re saying all these years I’ve been a figment of your imagination until the power of your belief gave me a life of my own?” I certainly hope he felt the venom in that sentence. “That I’m your Tulpa, like in that book? That’s what you think?”

He cocks his head. “As you would say, that’s what I know.”

I turn back to the window. I don’t want to see him smirk. “If I’m such a problem, just wish me away.”

“I don’t think I can. I think I could only have done that when we both knew you didn’t exist, but now? You think therefore you are and all that. You’re independent of me.”

I don’t know why that’s so annoying. I need a way to lash out, to one-up him. “They destroyed the Tulpa in the book.”

“Through months of intense meditation.” His voice tells me he’s nodding. “But I’m no Tibetan monk. I brought you to life slowly. It took years. I wasn’t even conscious of the process.”

My lips twist. “You were such a lonely saddo that your subconscious had to step in?” I look back at him.

He’s looking at his hands. “I had friends, Danyal. Good friends. And Leyla.”

Should I get a violin? “Any difficulties with her are your own fault, not mine.” I look out the window. Sara should be here soon. “How could it be my fault? We both know I’d make a better you than you.”

“We’re nothing alike. You’re everything I never want to be.”

I wish he’d shouted those words. They’d have hurt less. “Subtract me, Adam, and all that’s left is you.” I should know better than to think that would shut him up.

“Me and Leyla.”

Well, bully for him. I don’t care what he thinks I am. I won’t be alone either. “I’ll have Sara.”

“You don’t even have a reflection yet.”

I glare at his reflection in the window. Where mine should be there is only rain. I could adjust my position to better see myself, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Besides, that woman drawing closer from the end of the car-park, umbrella in hands, looks familiar. “You wanted to meet her, Adam. Now’s your chance.”

His reflection passes a hand over its face. “I won’t be able to see her, Danyal.”

I beg to differ. In a few moments she’ll be so close even he won’t be able to deny her existence.

“This is sad.” Adam’s voice loses its edge of condescension. His reflection looks at the floor. “I didn’t think it could get this far.”

Below, Sara stops, rain lashing against her umbrella. She looks up at me and waves. “Come and see, Adam.”

His reflection doesn’t move. “There’s nothing to see.”

For God’s sake. I face him and jab at the window. “She’s right there.”

“No.” He shakes his head and points at mine. “She’s in there.”

I laugh in his face. This is getting insane.

He doesn’t seem to think so. He looks like somebody died. “I won’t be able to see Sara because she’s your imaginary friend.”

My response is to grab him and lead him to the window, to seize his skull and turn him to face her. He can’t deny she exists. He’s not blind. She’s right there, still waving, twirling her umbrella against multiple curtains of rain and wind that threatens her balance, but she’s definitely there, that’s why she’s waving, who cares if she’s getting soaked, all she needs to do and all she is doing is lowering the umbrella to angle it against the wind that splashes water against the fabric, and I can’t see her right now because of the way she’s holding the umbrella, but she’s there, she definitely exists, how could she not?

And the wind roars and blows the umbrella inside-out and it spins and rolls across the ground.

And Sara is not there. She must have gone elsewhere, to shelter, at the north of the car-park, or the east.

“I’m sorry.” Adam sounds like he sees the panic on my face.

And I’m not panicking, why would I, just because I can’t see her doesn’t mean she’s not there, has never been there, will never be there, and -

The umbrella stops rolling and rain pelts its broken spokes.

And Sara is gone. Was never there. I just couldn’t see it. The man who helped me see lowers his head beside me. He created me and told me the truth and made me understand the world. He planted the seeds which grew in the rain that washed Sara away.

Maybe I should thank him. All I can say is, “You murdered her.”

And before he can respond I’ve shoved him into the desk. He crumples to the floor, where I launch a kick that splits his lip. I drag him to his feet, against the wall.

“I’m sorry, Danyal.”

No negotiation. “You made me doubt her. You destroyed my chance to make her real.”

He tries to sputter something else but I silence him with my fist. How could he do this? How dare he? If he hadn’t triggered my disbelief, if he’d left me alone, Sara would still exist, at least for me. Maybe she’d eventually become real through my belief, be my Tulpa as I was Adam’s.

Adam can’t say anything other than “Sorry” and “I’m sorry”, over and over, and it changes nothing. He’s ruined my life and ended hers. I throw him across the room. He hits the bed and spins into the stack of books. It’s almost comical. Look at him, rising zombie-like from the pile. An uppercut flops him onto his side. His face is raw meat. Good look for the weak, pathetic little man. I roll him toward the window, glimpsing a reflection that isn’t his.

Maybe it’s mine. Maybe onlookers won’t think Adam is being beaten to a pulp by thin air. Maybe I’m entirely real now. I grin at him. “On your feet. I’m tired of carrying you.”

He rises drunkenly. Doesn’t even throw a punch. “If I die, Danyal, so do you.”

Does he think I’m an idiot? “You were the one who said I’m independent. Think about it.” I slide the window open and yank him before it. The wind sprays rain into my face and I’ve never felt so alive.

“Leyla!” His voice is desperate. I clamp my hand over his mouth and look out of the window. It is her, walking across the car-park, pausing where Sara paused, adjusting her hood and stepping on the umbrella. When she looks at it, she moves like Sara did, and takes it to the nearest bin, her back to us, despite the rain and the wind, just like Sara would.

I smile at Adam. “Things are starting to make sense.” I lean his head out of the window. “Why should I settle for imaginary when I can have the real thing?” He struggles and I hook his hands behind him with my free hand. He knows I’m right. “I’m everything you didn’t have the nerve to be, Adam.” Leyla will understand, even as I push Adam’s shoulders through the window.

Maybe I’ll take some getting used to, but she’ll warm up to me. Adam’s memories are vague in my mind, but they’ll be enough, and I’ll be able to make my own. No need to rationalise her existence and replace her with a fantasy. Maybe she’ll wonder what happened to Adam, but she hasn’t seen me, and I guess deep down she won’t really care.

Maybe she’ll think he jumped.

You may begin voting,insha'Allaah. All the best to all participants.

Please read the stories and vote for your favorite entry,insha'Allaah.

Um,sister you must be mistakes as I did not partake in writing a story for this contest. After the contest voting ends, I'll provide you with the authors of each story so you can personally ask them...and if you want I'll take screenshots of my PM box where the members PMed me. Believe me I did not partake into this.

I don't know,seemed it wasn't fair if I was hosting and writing thus I did not partake..