LI Story-Writing Contest '08 - The Stories

[Re.TiReD]

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.​

 

[Re.TiReD]

Last Hope​

Once there were three friends, best friends, friends that will do everything to protect their friendship,
Ahmed, Benjamin and Mo (Mohammed) have travelled lots of places, met lots of people, they were men with dreams, but they didn’t know what they were searching for, was it Fun? Pleasure? Desires? Their souls were empty….

Ahmed was a very funny boy never too serious, Always messing around with people (‘’A party boy”) Mo was a very strong man, always ready for a fight, Always seeking the danger and Benjamin was a friendly boy, he was the more wise one , he was searching for something, a seeker without knowing were too seek.

So one day Ahmed and Mo were making jokes about “yo Momma” while they were walking on the streets.
Mo: “yo momma is sooo fat, that when she goes to the zoo she will get a group discount!”
Ahmed: “Well Yo mama is so lazy she's got a remote control just to operate her remote!”
Mo:”how tha hell do you know that?”
Benjamin:” Man you guys are funny, haha”

On their way there was a girl passing by,
Ahmed saw her and said “uuuh Girl you are soo hot, you almost burned my eyes!”
Girl *blushed* “oooh realy??”
Ahmed: “yeah, you melted my frozen heart “
Girl *blushed*
Ahmed: “uhmm so what you gonna do tonight? “
Girl: “uhmm maybe going to that new club that just opened”
Ahmed: “Oh that one yeah it’s nice there, well you know what,
give me your number so that I can call you ? “

Girl: * blushed again* “uhmm oke”
Ahmed: “cool, thanks babe”
So Ahmed took her number and was very happy,
Mo and Benjamin were surprised that he could get her number that fast.
Mo:”wow, Ahmed, brother you are tha man!”
Ahmed: *acting cool*” I know”
Mo:”Hahah you playa, now let’s go to my house“

they were walking towards mo’s house when they saw the lil sister of Mo talking with her school friends outside, mo was angry when he saw her, Ahmed and that girl came into his mind, so he walked towards her and gave her a smack on her face, she felt and hit her head on the ground,
Mo: “Didn’t I tell you to not go outside!!”
she was crying while blood were dropping on her new clothes.
Mo: “Now Get Tha Hell out of here, before I break your nose!”
Benjamin and Ahmed felt sorry for her,
Benjamin:”Look at what you did, you could’ve said it kinder Mo!”
Ahmed: “Poor girl”
Mo: “Mind your own business would ya? “
he felt a lil sorry …”the world is a filthy place for her”
suddenly someone shouted “Heeey why did you hit her!!!”
Mo was angry when he saw that the one who was shouting was an unknown man,
Mo: “who that **** are you?”
“It doesn’t concern you who I am, WHY DID YOU HIT HER?” was the reply,


so Mo probably taught it was her boyfriend , so he grabbed a big stone and threw it towards the man
,the stone hit his forehead and he felt on the ground , then Mo moved towards him and gave him a kick on his face afterwards.
But the man didn’t move anymore, there was blood coming from his head all over…..he was dead….
Ahmed:”WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!”
Mo was scared this wasn’t his intention, he didn’t want to kill him...
Suddenly they heard loud noises…coming closer and closer….it was the sirene
Ahmed: “OMG boys it’s the police! We gotta run man...we gotta run”
But Mo was frozen….frozen in fear, he killed a person with his own bare hands.
Benjamin couldn’t do anything either he was frozen as well, he saw death before his eyes,
He saw that a life could be taken away in a split second…
The police arrived at that place while in the meanwhile a lot of people gathered around
they heard someone shouting “TEACHER….TEACHER!!!!”
Mo looked around and saw that it was his own lil sister crying next to the dead body of the man.
Mo was in despair ….it wasn’t her boyfriend? ……it was her …teacher?

The police took the boys in the car to move them to the Bureau, while they leave the place….Screams fading away….Dreams fading Away….Hope fading away....



…The shock was getting more worse when they heard that they have to go to prison, The judge has decided that Mo has to serve 15 years for murder, and Ahmed and Benjamin 5 years as they were proved by weak evidence that they too took part of the crime…..

While entering the prison….
Ahmed was shaking, he was afraid “I didn’t do anything, why do I have to go through all of this!”
Mo heard this and he got upset, his own ignorance destroyed the life of these two innocent boys, his friends…
When they entered the prison it was chaos all over, cause someone was just murdered there.
Benjamin Panicked, he couldn’t breathe, he was shaking.
Ahmed was crying when he entered his cell, Mo saw that and said “Ahmed ,don’t worry I will protect you guys for ever, I WILL PROMISE YOU……and….I ….am sorry…”

Their first night they couldn’t get sleep, panic and chaos, they were drowning deeper in darkness, they were hopeless.
Benjamin was frozen in time, no hope, No one to save him, his dreams were crushed” why why why ….why must I always suffer?....why do I live?......Why did I born in this awful world?



The night that looked like it was never gonna end… has passed.
Its breakfast and the boys were walking in the eating hall, they saw that the people were separated in “Gangs”, so suddenly a man came towards them and on purposely crashed with Ahmed
Man:” **** Watch tha hell out were you walking boy!”
Ahmed: “S….Sorry”
Man: “Oh Wait a minute, I never seen you guys here, who are you, where are you from?”
Ahmed: “we …are..new…We don’t want any trouble”
Man: “now this pisses me off, who said something about making trouble!?”
Ahmed became scared “I….I... Don’t want any troubles”
Man: “Now you said it again!” “Now you arab, listen up!”
Mo came and pushed the man away.
Mo:” What tha **** is going on?” “Leave us alone before something bad happens!”
Man:”uuuh the newbie is talking tough ha ““Why you little…!”
The man was just gonna punch Mo but he saw that a group of guards were watching them and ready to take action when there was a fight.
Man:*whispered*”We’ll meet again bigshot”
Mo: “Anytime, Anywhere“
That man went back to his gang and was whispering something to a person then he sat down…

Mo:”Are you all right Ahmed? Don’t forget my promise I will give my life for you guys”
Ahmed:”t… thank you bro“

It’s the second Night and Benjamin keeps drowning in his thoughts… stuck between four walls
Getting closer and closer, ”why, why god why?’’
“Why do I have to suffer?....I never did something bad, all I wanted was happiness..”
it went for days, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat and drink much…he was falling into a deep empty hole…he was lost.

After a time when they thought that it couldn’t get worse than they are now….
Mo went to the shower , he noticed that people were watching him but he didn’t care so after his shower , he saw that the room was empty but didn’t mind so he dressed himself and when he turned around he saw that same man standing in front of him ” so here we are, all alone”
Mo: “What tha **** do you want?”
Man: “I…. just don’t like your kind”
The man took a strange hand made knife out of his pocket, and started to swing with it but Mo dodged it and he gave him a punch on his face, the man felt on the ground and the knife felt, Mo kicked the knife a way and started beating up this man…but then…he stopped cause he was surrounded by men, ‘’ so this is the arab you was talking about pete?”
Pete:”Arghh….uh…y...es”

they all attacked Mo together and started beating him heavily and stabbing him with knifes,

Mo tried to defend himself but….. he didn’t have a chance…..

He was brutaly slaughtered by racist men, who were full of evil, they had no mercy at all….

When Ahmed and Benjamin entered the shower room and saw that there was blood all over the place and when they tried to look where that blood was going ,
They saw Mo hanging on the wall with cuts everywhere in his body, the blood was still dropping on the floor,
His face was so heavily beaten that he almost wasn’t recognized….

Benjamin:”NO this cant be happening! “
Ahmed:”MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Their problems didn’t seem to stop….their were overwhelmed with darkness and no one to save them…..



Hours became Days….Days became weeks…..Weeks became months…


But Ahmed and Benjamin after years of struggle and miseries, years of cries, years of darkness, years of loneliness…They are finally free…
‘’Good bye” were their last words went they left.

Ahmed: “ooooh it feels sooo good to be finally free!“
Benjamin:” yeah..finally”
Ahmed: “let’s go eat...It’s been a while since we ate something decent bro!”
Benjamin: “good idea I want a juicy Big Mac!!”
Ahmed:” haha nice”

So they went to the nearest restaurant but on their way they saw an old man on the ground, who was very injured…there was blood all over his clothes.
The man was still conscious but was seriously injured.
“CALL THE AMBULANCE!!” said Benjamin, so Ahmed went to get help.

Benjamin asked the man with a shaking voice …W…What…. happened??
Benjamin was afraid, he remembered the scene from 5 years ago….he remembered that man, that face, he remembered Mo….
Suddenly the man uttered some words with a very weak voice,”don’t let him get you!”
“He is our enemy”, “don’t fall into his traps”, “Trust him”, “Forgive”, “let it be “, “trust your heart”,
“Trust Him”, “this is not were you belong”,”this is not your home”, “what you are searching for is not here”, “what you are searching for….is…not….here”, “He is Alone “, “He is Waiting for you”,”He is waiting for us”, “Time is running out”, “Surrender yourself before it’s too late,”
“THERE IS NO GOD…..but ……H…I…M……..”
The Man died while he said his final words, His Final breath, His Final Testimony…
Benjamin was in Tears, he was shocked, in trance, “What did this man mean?”
“What you are searching for is not here” kept flashing in his mind.
When he saw the face of that man, his soul began to beat, this …is… it!
“This is the smile, this is the face I was searching for. This man has found what I was deeply searching for…”

“The Ambulance has come” said Ahmed when he arrived at that place.
He was shocked when he saw Benjamin in full Tears, Ahmed never saw him like this before.
“Are you All right Bro “He asked, But Benjamin didn’t hear he was in trance, the words, the face just kept flashing before his eyes…the words that kept replying in his head,

The words that will change his life Forever……





[a couple of years later Benjamin became an excellent Hafidh and later He became an respectful Teacher of the Quran, he was married to a wonderful wife and Allah granted them with two beautiful children , Benjamin Passed away at the age of 89….his son told that he never saw a man so peacefully,
” it was like he was already…..prepared to die”]

[Ahmed changed too , the day after, when he heard what happened, when he heard that Benjamin became an Practicing, He travelled to Medinah to study the Quran and the Hadith , Later He Became an Outstanding Sheikh in his home town, he later married to ….the lil sister of Mo…..and had 6 children, He died at the age of 86]​

 

[Re.TiReD]

Ancient Wisdom

A bead of saliva glistened at the side of her mouth; her gnarled twig-like fingers softened their hold on the book, dropping the wise, ancient wisdom bound within; onto the crispy fall leaves.

The hot, freshly baked aroma of donuts enticed him; the enchanting smell of coffee embraced him from within, like a gentle flame of warmth, licking away at the coldness of his heart. He savoured the feeling, then dug his hands further into his pockets and continued watching. He took a step forward. He had seen the book fall – but something made him hesitate.

The world around him seemed to spin as though by magic. The golden leaves disturbed by the prancing poodle, the boy on his round stopping for a moments’ rest before continuing. The little girl, wrapped up snug holding the hand of her nanny, her small button-like nose glowing red against the cold; yet her eyes screwed up against the harsh glare of the sun.

And then, at that moment, everything froze. All motion ceased to be. The cold pinched the skin, the sun pained the eyes; the young girl watched whilst the woman slept on. Both youth and old age, caught up in one moment, one breath, one world. So near, yet so far apart…

He longed to reach out and be part of that world. He longed to reach out, to hold those old hands and caress her face, to smoothen out the wrinkles of worry and old age. He wanted to run his fingers across the caesarean scars he knew were there, to shed tears at every wrinkled brow, each bruise on the heart, each and every night spent outdoors. He wanted to, but the hustle and bustle of the Manhattan day brought him back to reality, as the little girl bent down and pocketed the book. He started forward, forced out of his reverie by her swift sudden movement.

Her eyes were open now he noticed, but willing himself not to look, he took a sip of coffee. He could all but see her frantic gaze, her desperate fingers anxiously searching out the book. He longed to look into her eyes once more.

He did. The world around him froze for the second time that day. He looked into her watery blue eyes and saw the sorrow that spooked them- the lifetime of anguish and pain, the multitude of troubles and woes, the slammed doors, raised fists and harsh rebukes. He saw a troubled soul, a sleepy soul, a weary soul; but most of all, most of all he saw an oppressed soul. He wondered if she recognised him…

Seconds turned into minutes as he drowned in the confusion of his internal struggle. His heart yearned to love, but life had taught him that love was something engraved not in stone, but written in the sand, something that went as easily as it could come.

The fall showers began to rain down upon his freckled face – inherited from his father he was sure. He lifted his face to the sky, so as to catch every raindrop. “Take my pain,” he heard the wind whisper, “set me free”, said the tinkling drop of rain, “Take me back”. Take me back…he looked back at the very lips that had uttered them words so many years ago; lips that had loved, lips that had smiled; lips that were now cracked and swollen; lips that had been tender to the touch on her children’s cheeks. Calm settled down around him, “Can’t you feel my pain?”

He had been watching her like this for almost 2 weeks now, since the very day he had come to know who she was. How he had come to know was all a blur to him now, forgotten in the ecstasy of seeing her. Now he simply watched, like a guardian angel taking care of her. Sometimes leaving loose change next to her sleeping figure, at other times planting an imaginary kiss onto her weathered cheeks.

The book never left his thoughts though. He could see its leather-bound cover always in his minds eye. He often paced back and forth, encircling her like a lion hunting its prey, but she, just as fierce, held onto it whilst asleep- like a lioness protecting her young, fearsome yet vulnerable in her dream-like state.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to backtrack 15 years. He was 10 years old. His mother at 40 had aged before her time. A near-fatal accident in her early 20’s had rendered her hearing useless. Yet his father had still managed to love her. Young and carefree, their love had known no bounds. To him, mommy and daddy had been like a sanctuary. Arms to lay in when nightmares turned nasty, somebody to cuddle when fevers kept him awake, a hand to hold on the first day of school, a chauffeur to escort on the night of the prom, smiling faces in the crowd at his graduation. They had been ‘mommy and daddy’. But today, today ‘mother and father’ were likened to pain and abandonment, loss and betrayal. ‘Till death do us part’ was a vow made to be broken.

He longed to reminisce, to remember the good times. But afternoon was fast approaching and the park was getting busier. His eyes focused first on her lying on the bench, and then on the little girl shedding her anorak like a snake shedding its skin. The weather had improved he mused, along with his state of mind. Allowing himself to think about the past had thawed a little of the ice that kept him hostile, the ice that froze him to the spot right now, neither here nor there. Wanting to be but not daring too, caught up in the closed doors of the past yet wanting to move forward. Would she ever forgive him…?

His mind drifted again to that house, with its off-white walls and narrow staircase. The steps had been steep, he could almost feel the impression of his mom’s hand in his own, guiding him up the stairs lest he fall.

"It was an accident", he would later overhear his dad saying, head bowed, eyes welling up with tears. "Of course it was an accident", the nurse replied. Her concerned face and soothing voice had given him all the encouragement he needed. His voice shook with irrepressible emotion. "I told her to watch her step, I told her we should move house, those stairs were dangerous. But she loved that house, she loved it..." his voice trailed off. They obviously misread his pause as sorrow.

The days that followed had been a blur, too much for his 11-year old mind to comprehend. Thinking back, he could almost taste the lingering stench of death on the hospital wards. "She will be ok,” they had told him. He remembered the cold hands of sympathisers pulling his cheeks and ruffling his hair. The cold, stern gaze of aunts and great-aunts he had never seen before. It was amazing how long-lost relatives popped out of the woodwork on such occasions. They had come to watch her die. Yet 15 years on, she was still struggling along- Silent, but sure.

Then, he went back in time to the day his dad had left. Emptying out every room but that of his sons. "I'm going to stay with my sister awhile, just to get away from the stress and worry, you be a good boy and visit your mom everyday wont you?" he rambled on, mainly to himself, as though to talk over the silence. "I've paid the rent in advance, you'll be ok son." he walked out the door, car keys in hand. He hesitated at the end of the driveway and looked back, "You will be ok wont you?" he pressed. Nodding numbly in reply, he had closed the door after his father. The father who was leaving him home alone at 11-years old - without a care in the world.

His first night alone had passed in a restless daze. He sae the images of his mother falling headlong down the stairs, her frail body submitting willingly to the force of gravity, the force of her husbands hand in the small of her back - pushing her mercilessly down the stairs. He had recalled her pitiful moaning, lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom, whimpering like a wounded animal. Fear had clenched his heart. He remembered a darkness surrounding him, a nauseous feeling before falling to the floor with a resounding thud.

He had sat bolt upright in bed, his face pouring with sweat after his nightmare. The digital clock flashing 3am, he had swung out of bed, all hope of sleep gone with the recurrent sound of his mother's scream playing on his mind.

And now, 14 years later, he stood again in Manhattan. Living out of a small case, he had travelled states to see his childhood home. Abandoned by his father, having lost his mother to various care homes for the aged and infirm, sick of having been carted off to different foster families, his heart had yearned to revisit the only place he had felt truly loved and cherished. The place he had been taught about God, about Allah...About his religion. His soul had felt empty without the Deen he had been brought up on. The words of the Muslim call to prayer often entered his mind, catching him unawares and making him wonder where he had heard it before. The only thing now that linked him to his faith was his name. Ahmed...

And now he was here, the final destination. The place he had so wanted to come back to since hitting 16. He recalled having arrived here 3 weeks ago. New faces, new landscape, new horizon, new homes...A dog pound now stood on the foundations of the place he had once called home. His heart had pained at realising his new founded loss. From that morning on, he had taken to standing -sometimes sitting- vigil in the park from the crack of dawn until sundown.

He willed his mind back to the present again. The little girl was still there, he noticed. She was flicking through the pages of the book, unnoticed by her nanny who was engaged in a seemingly interesting conversation.

He often wondered what lay within the tightly bound cover of the book, the book he had been watching her hold on so desperately to. "It's now or never." he thought, and walked resolutely towards the girl. She looked up as he drew closer, like a feline caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. She banged the book closed and lowered her gaze as though aware of her mistake. He extended his hand and opened his mouth- she didn’t give him a chance to speak, "I'm sorry mister, is this book yours? I found it on the ground." Her face turning crimson, she thrust the book into his hand before running off to her nanny.

A gust of wind blew chilled him to the bone as he prepared to open the book. He paused and looked around once more. A beautiful array of colours met his eyes and he realised again, why he loved the fall so much.

He rested his eyes on the largest tree in the park. Branches swaying slightly in the wind, it's leaves lying like a crunchy carpet beneath, shed and lost. Loss...this is what motherhood meant to him. This is how life had treated him. How he wished for the summer, for the lush green leaves, forgiving against the heat of the day and welcoming against the shade of the night. Its boughs extended lovingly taking the burden of the children who so loved to climb it- the epitome of motherhood, the love, sacrifice and selflessness. He longed for those arms to reach out and hold him in a loving embrace, to melt the years of ice that had built up around his heart. The result of the harsh treatment meted out to him by the cruel world.

He sighed, let his gaze rest on the sleeping figure for a second and then carefully opened the book. The pages were yellowing and the lines had all but faded. His heart thumped curiously as he prepared to read the secrets of the soul he so dearly loved, but his stomach plummeted and bile rose in his throat as he flicked though the blank pages. Disappointment was fast turning to rage as he noticed a familiar scrawl in one of the middle pages. He gasped, almost tearing at the pages in his hurry to find it again. He sighed in relief as he found the single entry in the thousand-page journal. It was dated 07-07-1983. His birthday. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he read on,

"We have enjoined on man kindness to his parents; in pain did his mother bear him, and in pain did she give him birth" (46:15).

He looked up resolutely; tears blurred his version as his steps firmed towards the park bench. How she had come to be here he did not know, all he knew now was that it was time to make himself known.

But only 2 feet away, he came to a halt and watched on in shock as she shuddered and slumped sideways. Tears of regret, sorrow and intense pain flowed down his face as his mother breathed her last. 'Rabbir ham huma, kama rabbayani sagheeraa' he whispered, before his world came crashing down around him.

 

[Re.TiReD]

Be Generous

Once upon a time there lived a great woman named Leila. Leila was very rich everyone respected her. She always got what she wanted, as everyone wanted to be in her good books. Once, a pigeon came to her garden and started eating her bright ,red apples, Immediately, she grew frantic, when she saw this she called for her servants, who when heard her cry ran to help her. Whenever she needed her servants would be right at her footsteps, she was an extremely arrogant person. Leila loved to have lots; of money, it was her pride and joy to be rich, she would never share what she had with the poor who needed it more than her.

One sunny Monday morning Leila saw a little girl sitting on the doorstep of her mansion, “what is your name!?” demanded Leila, “Zakiyyah Ahmed” said the terrified and startled girl, “well, explain yourself, what are you doing here?” asked Leila , “oh, errm nothing” said Zakiyyah “well then can you please leave NOW”, “ok” said a distressed Zakiyyah.

At night while Leila was brushing her teeth she started having bad thoughts about Zakiyyah and how she had mistreated her that day, when she went to bed she was very scared as she had a dream about Zakiyah’s parents dying, she quickly put her coat on and searched for Zakiyah’s house. Soon she found the broken house near the corner of a landfill site. Through the window she noticed a man near Zakiyyah, sure enough it was Zakiyyah’s uncle reassuring her that everything will be alright. Leila walked to the door and knocked, Zakiyyah opened it, when she saw it was Leila she let her in. “ H-h-h-hello” whispered Zakiyyah, fighting back her tears. “I know what’s happened”, Leila said as she nodded her head in disbelief. “You, you, you do?” said Zakiyyah puzzled, “Yes, but you know theres something I can do for you..”, she paused, “I was wondering if I can take care of you, that’s the least I can do? You just need to get your uncles permission”. Leila looked up pleadingly at Zakiyyah’s uncle. “Alright then, only if you promise to take good care of her when I go back home” said her uncle, “thank you” said Leila, pleased at what she can offer her.

The next day Zakiyyah was still very upset, luckily Leila had cheered her up slightly, Zakiyyah was beginning to really like Leila although she still had one problem, she refused to share her money with the poor, she was changing in to a much better person but she had to get rid of her greed, the greed that she had gained from being overly rich. Zakiyyah prayed that Allah changes Leila into a better person.

Several days after Zakiyyah moved in with Leila, her prayers were answered. A dove came to her garden and spoke to her, she said “You should let the people in need have some of your wealth, if you take care of them Allah can be proud of you, just the way Zakiyyah is proud of you for taking care of her when no one else could”. After it spoken these words, it flew away.

At night Leila thought about what the dove had said to her, in the morning, as if by miracle she had changed into a much better person, she didn’t hesitate to set up a small charity, which she called Be Generous and from that day on she always gave money to the poor.

Hadrat Ka’b states that he heard the prophet (peace be upon him) say every nation has a test to undergo; my nation will be tried through their wealth. [Tirmidi]

Asma related that the Prophet (peace be upon him) said Spend, and do not count, lest Allah counts against you. Do not withhold your money, lest Allah withholds from you. Spend what you can [Bukhari]

And they are ordained naught else than to serve Allah, keeping religion pure for Him, as men by nature upright, and to establish worship and to pay the poor-due (Zakah). That is true religion [Quran]

The end

 

[Re.TiReD]

Coconut

Rain paints road, streetlights and pedestrians between into a shivering watercolour streaked back into oil clarity by dark plastic arms. Kam adjusts the rear-view, in which Mosh’s alternate blurred, clear form recedes to enter the building.

Ringing trills in Kam’s headset as he pulls onto the main road. A police car draws near, siren wailing banshee calls. Into Kam’s car splashes topaz light. It flickers across the passenger seat and casts the rucksack holding the box as a square ghost in the corner of the windscreen. He reaches over, zips the bag shut. Just in case.

As the police car passes to wink blue on the moonlit horizon, the siren twines trills into an electric chorus that drones a crescendo. Stops. Eddy’s words replace it: “Hi, leave a message and I’ll give you a shout.”

“It’s Kamal. I’m on my way.” He glances at the bag. Something that mustn’t become regret clutches his chest. Something that mustn’t become remorse lowers his voice. “Should have enough to settle it.” He ends the call. Changes gears. The bag slides off the seat, hits the floor and jangles like orphans’ bones.

Or shrapnel dissecting them.

He tries to exhale his thoughts, but his breath feeds the blaze in his heart. He can’t forget.


You just walked in. Like it was nothing. Shouldered your rucksack, strolled through the double doors, down the corridor, and entered the prayer room. A pious student come early for Isha. As if you were honest. As if you belonged.

The place was empty save for the man reading his Qur’an in the far corner. He didn’t look up. You were sure. You played it safe. You waited maybe two, three minutes. Seconds. He didn’t look up.

You placed your shoes in the rack. At its end, on the floor, were the two wooden boxes. You knew what they contained. You just lied to yourself that you had to read their labels first. So, your back to the man in the corner, you crouched beside the boxes. One of them held donations to the Islamic Society.

The other was… some appeal. War relief? Aid for victims of a natural disaster? You might have paid more attention if you hadn’t kept looking at the man over your shoulder. He didn’t look back.

You turned to the boxes, ignored whatever that feeling balled in your chest was and slipped the backpack to the floor. Because you could only fit a single box into the rucksack, you weighed both in your hands and bagged the heavier one. You didn’t read the label.

You stood, and now the man was looking. Staring. And that ball in your chest sucked the air from your throat. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t look away. You couldn’t stop the heat draining from your face.

And when he just smiled, you couldn’t even return it. When he looked back at his Qur’an, all you could do was retrieve your shoes and head for the entrance, footsteps in time with your pulse.

But you couldn’t leave. In the doorway stood Mosh.


Ahead, a nebula of electric light flashes blue and yellow against the pavement. Vehicles queue before Kam’s, their drivers waiting to gain access onto the side street.

Kam unclenches his jaw and breathes. A police officer walks among the vehicles to tap on their windows and talk to their drivers. The first car in line turns left onto the side street. The van behind it follows like the next pendulum in a Newton’s Cradle.

Kam’s phone beeps text onto its screen.

COME BACK. WE’LL SORT IT OUT.

-MOSH

Kam closes his eyes, palms his forehead. He can’t decide if the ache it hides is a cause or an effect of his burning chest. He looks down at the bag, which silently yells children’s screams, adults’ wails. Mosh’s words.

Horns herald a knock on the window. Kam faces the police officer.

“Sir, there’s been an accident. Kindly detour on the left.”

As Kam does so, he sees the cordoned-off wreckage, all shards and mangled metal, until his car draws onto the side street and the wreck becomes a memory hidden by the building behind him and to the right.

Ahead and to the left, cars trickle onto the street from the main road and join the ranks taking the turn at Kam’s right. Maybe some will loop around the accident so they’ll end up a mile or two away, near Eddy’s place. Behind and to the right.

He looks to the main road in front. Just a simple matter of reaching it, turning left and heading back for Mosh.

Kam shakes his head. Crossroads are no problem, regardless of his drummer-pulse or the pleading tinkle of the charity box. He won’t be crushed by a choice between left and right. He won’t let it become a choice of right and wrong. It’s a matter of honour. Of respect. Of life. So he doesn’t question himself as he turns right.

Much.


You didn’t want anything to do with Mosh. All the laughs, all the chats, all the rapport and the fun were worth less than a clear escape route and no questions asked. And the worst thing? You probably didn’t hide it very well. Yeah, you tried to smile or joke, but inside you felt that pain nobody should feel. That obvious, rotten side effect from looking into the eyes of a friend and lying.

Mosh stared at you. He must have seen that pain. He definitely saw the box in your bag. But he just looked… disappointed.

That made the pain worse. So you lashed out. “Move.” You thought uttering it was more polite. And the fact you couldn’t focus on anything but the floor made speaking up difficult.

“Don’t do this.” Mosh grasped your arm.

“Got no choice.” Your eyes wouldn’t lower any further. Your voice would. “Move. Please.”

“Look, we’ll tell the cops-“

You laughed humourlessly. That old chestnut. “All I have to do is pay him back.” You closed your eyes. “So let me go.”

“I’ll get the others to help. That’s what friends are for.”

You yanked your arm out of his grip. “Friends?” Suddenly you could look him in the eye. If only because you wanted to burst it with your fist.You were pretty loud too – the man in the corner looked up. Didn’t bother you. “Friends don’t mutter behind your back. Friends don’t let others do that.”

Mosh looked confused.

Your jaw tightened. “Football last week? I heard them. Called me a coconut? Brown outside, white inside? Ring any bells?”

It did, but Mosh played dumb like he always does when he thinks he’s helping you out.

“Moshin, you know this isn’t an act. I’m making things right.” You wanted to sound earnest but it came out an angry whisper.

Now Mosh couldn’t look you in the eye. “They were just -- it meant nothing-“

“Nothing?” You wanted to beat him until he bled. “Know what some of them call you? Some of those white people the others hate so much?” You tugged his beard and he recoiled. “I defend you, Mosh.”

His face showed what you were looking for – that hint of irritation, that tweaked lip of offended embarrassment. For a second, you’d made him feel as rotten as you. But he cooled. “Give me something to defend.”

If not for the man in the corner, you might have discarded all those years of friendship and broken Mosh’s neck. Because as much as his words stung, you knew they were right. Stealing charity money to settle gambling debts with a shark? Sinful and pathetic whichever way you looked at it. Naturally, venom infected your voice. “Get out of the way.”

Mosh set his jaw. “It’s not worth Hell.”

“If I don’t pay him off, he’ll send me there anyway.”

He held your shoulder. It felt like he wanted to slip the bag off it. So you shoved him away. You would have hit him had your other hand not been grabbed from behind.

The man from the corner glared at you, Qur’an in one hand, your fist in the other.


Kam’s fingers drum the dashboard. The beat outpaces that of his heart, but cannot clear the clouds his pulse spreads across his mind. He pulls onto the roadside. Breathes deep.

Rain blurs the exterior into a sludgy sea swum through by a school of orange streetlights. The windscreen wipers perform a token cleansing pivot, and he stares through his arc of clarity at the tower block on the road’s far end. Eddy’s place.

Kam pulls the bag onto the passenger seat. No screams or rattling bullets - just the shifting jangle of hefty coinage.

He flicks through his mobile’s contact list. Highlights Mosh’s name. There’s still time. One button-press can fix everything…

The phone rings and flashes Eddy’s name onscreen. Kam swallows. Answers.

“Hey, Kammy-boy.” Eddy’s tone betrays his sneer. “Ain’t got all night, mate. Chop, chop.”

Kam forces a laugh. “Just around the corner.” He hangs up. Looks ahead. Starts the engine.


You would have started a fight, psyched on guilt and adrenaline, free hand ready to strike the man till he let go of your other fist. You’d have sent the guy reeling back into his corner for daring to play referee between you and Mosh.

Then Mosh did one of those things that both angered and relieved you. He solved your problem. “It’s all right,” he told the man. Calm, smooth, soothing. “Just had a bit of an accident.”

The man looked from you to Mosh. “He was going to hit you.”

Mosh chuckled. “We’re just messing around.” His palms clasped round the man’s hand, which gradually loosened its grip on yours. “It’s all right.”

You couldn’t face Mosh. Relief turned to gratitude and gratitude to shame, because you didn’t return the box – you left the prayer room.


The road unrolls beneath him, a rain-soaked conveyer belt drawing the tower closer. The charity box is silent. So is the phone. No last-minute interventions from Mosh to talk him down.

He reaches the driveway, which tapers into the car park. On the far end, at the base of the tower, stands Eddy with a friend.


You rushed up the corridor. No words, no looking back. You pushed open the exit door and felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turned to face Mosh. You should have thanked him for protecting you, or shook his hand. All you could muster was a nod. Mosh didn’t say much. Five little words and he’d let you on your way.

But before you ran through the rain to your car, before you’d seen him watching you leave, he’d asked a question your heart absorbed to brand into your future:

“Is this who you are?”


Kam processes the question even as he draws nearer to Eddy and his accomplice, the hood of the former slick with rain, the cricket bat of the latter barely concealed behind his back.

And even as he sees Eddy’s grin and hears the accomplice slapping his bat into his palm, Kam’s heart answers the question.

It answers by rushing blood to the muscles of the foot on the gas; by turning his face from Eddy’s scowl as the car passes; by focusing his eyes on the road despite the crack they glance webbing across the rear window from the accomplice’s bat.

As the car bursts back onto the road, Kam’s mind provides its own answer. It pays little heed to the van Eddy and his brute jump into. Kam could live for minutes or years, but he will die knowing what he is not: a pretender, a thief, a hypocrite.

Neither mind nor heart can say what he will become. A hero returning that which he stole? A coward submitting to his pursuers? A casualty crushed in a hulk of mangled metal?

Come what may, he is, in this moment, simply who he is. Honest. Decent. Determined.

Muslim.

 

[Re.TiReD]

True Friend​

It was a boring Wednesday morning; we were waiting for our teacher,Miss Fatima. I was looking outside the window. My eye caught the sight of a bird sitting on the window sill, singing. Miss Fatima never comes late I thought to my self, she’s always on time. The class was really noisy, boys were in the back making paper planes, trying to make them fly. In another corner girls were gossiping, I wasn’t very fond of gossiping but when I got bored I sometimes joined in. Ten minutes passed and Miss Fatima hadn’t arrived. I had my ‘ipod touch’ hidden in my pocket and was listening to my favourite music. Suddenly the door opened, in came Miss Fatima followed by a girl. Her height was normal,she was skinny, had a fair complexion and rosy cheeks, she was also wearing a hijab. The girls in the corner were giggling at the sight of her, I thought she looked ridiculous. Miss Fatima introduced her to us, her name was Mawada and she had come from Saudi Arabia. After introducing her Miss Fatima sent her to sit with me, as the seat adjacent to me was empty. As she was coming to her seat I casted her a nasty glance but in return she just smiled at me. I felt really weird sitting next to the ‘hijabi’ girl. All the teachers were rather impressed with her and why wouldn’t they be, she knew all the answers. It was as if she had memorized the course books.

Two days had passed since the ‘hijabi’ girl joined our school. No one talked to her, people would call her Rag head and Hijabi girl because of her hijab but it had no affect on her, she was just the same. Although she sat next to me I never talked to her because I knew if I did, people would make fun of me. Its Friday, Mawada sat on her usual seat, for the first time she said ‘salam’ to me, not meeting her eyes I replied with a ‘hi’ in a soft voice so that no one could hear. I then turned towards my friend Farasha and started talking about the new outfit I saw at the mall, from the corner of my eye I could see that Mawada was smiling and reading her book.

At home time I was waiting for my car, my mum said she might be busy today and if she couldn’t make it, I should take the bus. So I waited and went to sit on the bench, to my surprise I saw Mawada sitting waiting for her car too. She was reading as usual when I went close to her she looked up and smiled, I smiled back because I knew no one was looking. I asked her about the school, she said she liked it. She wasn’t rude at all after what I had done to her. She’s not that bad I thought. We heard a honk. It was Mawada’s car which her mum was driving. She was a tall lady and Mawada was a carbon copy of her mother, her mother was also wearing a hijab. Mawada asked me how I was going home and I told her that I would take the bus, she offered me to come to her house. I couldn’t refuse so I took up the offer. Mawada’s mum said Salam to me and I replied to it.

We reached Mawada’s house in 20 minutes and she took me upstairs to herr oom. It was an airy room, the walls were coloured lilac, there were no music CD’s, posters, magazines, movies, nothing. How did this girl survive? I started feeling suffocated, all I could see were huge bookshelves loaded with books, no wonder she knew the answers to everything, I thought. Mawada began telling me the importance of Salah,which wasn’t very interesting. I told her that I had to go, she remained silent and we went downstairs, she said Salam and I came out of her house. My house was walking distance from her place. I reached home and let myself in. Mum was home, I kissed her said hi to my sister and went to my room. I switched on the radio, my favourite music was on and I started doing my home work. I got bored so slammed the books shut. I opened the computer, checked my e-mails and my msn, Farasha was online. we started chatting. I told her about the new cell phone my father was going to get me and that I was really exited, my other friends came online too and we joined the conversation, this is fun I thought. As I was enjoying the chat with my friends mum called me for dinner and told me that dad was home. I got so angry because I didn’t want to leave the conversation as it was really deep. I closed the computer, slammed my bedroom door and went downstairs after dinner we always had a family talk so everyone was talking. My dad didn’t say anything about the cell phone, I made a sad face and dad saw me, he told me to close my eyes, I did so and the next thing I knew there was a big black box on the table. Dad had bought me a blackberry; I was so happy I jumped for joy and hugged him. After fiddling with my new cellphone I watched my favourite TV show and to bed.

At school, Mawada was really happy. She said Salam to me and I replied. I started talking to her, she was friendly. She was good at everything Studies, Sports, Art, Projects, everything! She helped me too and I started getting good grades, people started calling me ‘nerdy birdie’ but I didn’t care as long as my parents were happy I was happy. I started to change but not that much, I still used to go to parties and listen to music. I now liked talking to this girl and began spending more time with her. Mawada used to tell all the girls not to wear tight clothes, not to gossip, make fun of others and not to talk to boys but they just fun of her and walked away. I told her that no one was going to listen and it was such a silly thing she had done. She told me that our prophet (SAW) was pelted with stones when he was spreading the message of Islam and it’s obligatory on us too. She also said, “Sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me”. I was dumbfounded at her courage, they had just made fun of her and she didn’t care. As I started hanging out with her she told me more and more about Islam. I was born Muslim but my parents were not religious. I really liked the things she said, it was as if she was a permanent magnet and I a soft iron, and I was attracted to the things she said. I told my parents the things she told me and they too were surprised. Mawada became one of my good friends. I learned a lot from her, she also took me to her Quran class, I liked it but still I couldn’t change I feared my friends would leave me.

Mawada said that the next time we meet she’ll give me a book on the life of our prophet Muhammad (SAW). A couple of days passed and I saw that Mawada wasn’t coming, she had never been absent and was always ontime. Maybe she’s sick I thought. Mawada was absent for a week. She also didn’t come on Monday, I didn’t have her number otherwise I would havecalled her. I went to the staff room to get my note book from Miss Hafsa and I over heard Miss Fatima and Miss Zainab talking about Mawada. I could see that Miss Fatima had tears in her eyes and said that she was really sad when Mawada’s mother called and told her that her daughter had leukaemia and was on remmision. Miss Fatima said that her chemo had caused infection and Mawada was admitted in Al-Shifa hospital.

At home I told my mum about Mawada and she agreed to take me to the hospital. I went to the hospital at 5:00, I saw Mawada’s father sitting outside the room his eyes were red and puffy; I could see that he had been crying. I asked him if I could go in and he nodded. I opened the door and there was Mawada on the bed, she still had a sweet smile on her face. I sat beside her. She told me that she was really happy to see me. I couldn’t say a word, then she said that it was her dream, her wish that she’d bring all her friends towards Islam and she told me how she used to go to Quranic classes and Islamic work shops to gain information and to follow the prophet’s (SAW) mission. She said that sometimes people listen and sometimes they don’t but we should never lose hope and keep moving on. My eyes were filled with tears.She told me that I was the only friend she had at school and she enjoyed spending time with me. I couldn’t stand it, what was she saying. I told her that she was not going any where and was going to get better very soon. She looked at me and smiled then said, ‘May Allah make us neighbours in Jannah’ (Ameen). At this hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn’t handle it, I hugged her so tight and I didn’t want to leave her. I told her that it was she who changed me, even if it was a little change. Mawada smiled, my mum came in and said that it was time to go home. I hugged Mawada again and wiped my tears. I smiled and said, ‘get well soon’.

At school I couldn’t concentrate, I kept looking at Mawada’s empty chair. As I waked home I remembered the times we spent together. Today is 26th April, Miss Fatima came in our class, and she looked really weird there was something missing. I realized that she had no make up on and looked pale. At first she didn’t say anything then she cleared her throat and told us that Mawada had passed away and that she had been suffering from leukaemia. Tears began to trickle down my cheeks and I started to cry.

After school I went home and told my mum about Mawada, she too was sad. I ran upstairs and closed my bedroom door. I started tearing down the posters I had on my walls, I pushed the CD rack and it broke, all the CD’s were on the floor. I threw them in the rubbish bin one by one and dived on the bed and started crying. I looked up and saw that I had a Quran on the upper book shelf, I took it from the shelf and started reading there was a verse which said, “Verily in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest”. I prayed to Allah and asked Him to forgive me. It was time for Asr prayer I got up and went to pray immediately. I asked for forgiveness and prayed for Mawada.

After Mawada passed away, I always had an empty feeling inside of me, something always felt wrong. I started doing what Mawada told me to do, to wear the hijab, listen to my parents, read the Quran and so much more. It was hard to believe at first but reading the Quran was actually very soothing and relaxing. I felt really connected to Allah and began to fear nothing but Him. Wearing the hijab was very risky, considering that fact that I would become hijabi girl part 2. I did it anyway. People did make fun of me and my so-called friends like Farasha stopped talking to me. I realized who my true friends were. I also realized that people are not that willing to change if it doesn’t suit them. They are bluntly ignorant to the truth and this is a proven fact, I found out through my own experience.

Slowly, I changed my family. My mum and sister started taking the hijab, my dad started going to the masjid at least three times a day, it was a start. Some of my close friends like Aisha also changed a little. Not enough to wear a hijab but enough to stop listening to music.

Mawada was like a light in my life. Guiding me back onto Allah’s path. I now learned that we all need to be lights in other peoples lives, touching the heart of even one person is the ultimate reward. InshaAllah by helping others there will be ‘noor’ in our lives (Ameen).

 

[Re.TiReD]

The Crow

She pressed her delicate left cheek on the cold window as the train rushed by vast fields of corn waving gently in the slight wind. She did not notice the clear blue sky or the swaying of the ankle deep grass. She couldn’t hear the melodious singing of the birds nor the screeching of the train’s metal. She was enveloped in a world of her own. Her eyes were open, but she seemed as if she was looking beyond the horizon. The rhythmic movement of the train rocked her back and forth. She finally closed her eyelids and the same reoccurring thoughts crept to her mind.
What would it be like now? Would she still like it after all this time?
Looking at her watch, she realized that in less than two hours she would have the answers to her questions. Time was a mystery to Amina. It could separate families and friends but at the same time reunite loved ones. It could end someone’s life yet mark a new beginning. It was time that changed Amina, her family and many others from being citizens of their country to being called and labeled “exiles”. That word was unfamiliar to Amina at that time, but as the years passed, Amina and countless others familiarized themselves with the cruel and unjust word.
She remembered her birth country, her home. She had forgotten the sweet taste of dates, olives and figs. Only fragmented memories were left in her young mind. Her mother would try to fill in the missing puzzle pieces to help her remember the entire scene, but many times it would leave Amina with frustration. However, there was something in Amina that connected her with her country. It was not the patriotic love of a soldier to his nation, but the love and longing of a newborn to its mother.
The day the enemy came changed Amina’s life. They came with terror, guns and weapons, and frightful hatred. They marched with artillery and machine guns, stepping on plants, blossoming flowers, new dreams, hopes and future generations. They never stopped marching; they did not care for the sick, the old, the young, the helpless or the poor. Where did they come from? Amina could only wonder.
One time when Amina was playing hide and seek with her neighbors, she suddenly caught sight of a crow that was perched on a high treetop waiting to grab the meal of the mama bird which was feeding her anxious young birds. Not only did the crow forcefully take the long awaited meal, he crushed the about to hatch eggs, killed the mama bird, and released the young birds in order to take their branch. Amina stood motionless. She was perplexed at what she had seen. Her friends had finished counting and were standing right beside her. They too had seen the act. One of the children picked up a pebble from the dusty ground and threw it at the bird. It flew right past him, and realizing the danger and resentment he faced from the group of children, fluttered and flew away. Salty tears dripped from Amina’s cheeks and she ran home relating to her mother the destruction that the crow caused to a harmless family of birds. Her mother brushed away her tears and told her, “Sometimes others can be cruel.”
Amina opened her eyes. Her mind and heart were set. She realized that if one wanted change, he or she must begin with themselves. Anyone had the ability to change or rename an area of land. People try to hide and erase the truth everyday. The lies are repeated and time helps by causing others to forget the erasure. However, Amina knew that her country’s name has been stained on her heart.
Amina finally realized what she needed to do. She had to educate herself and others on her beloved country. She had to do everything to defend her rights and the rights of her people. The first step she took was coming back to the country which she was born and raised in. She knew it would be the start of a long struggle, but victory follows misery.
Suddenly Amina threw away the blanket of fear that had been thrust over her. She put on her suit of armor and courage began to beat with her heart. The train screeched louder and came to an abrupt stop. They finally reached their destination. As the doors were flung open, Amina took a deep breath of air. As a baby cries when it inhales its first breath of air, tears welled up in her eyes. Amina picked up a small pebble from the ground and threw it at the nearest tree.

 

[Re.TiReD]

Ipod

Once there was a kid named Muhammad Ali. This young man aged 15listened to a lot of music and Indian lectured why not to become amuslim. On the other hand there was another student in all his classesname Muhammad as well. He was the opposite of Muhammad A. MuhammadZardari listened to nasheeds all the lectures about heaven and wascurrently the moderator of a excellent forum called “ Islamicboard”.Muhammad Ali’s parents were the same as him they were to caught up withthere so called work. Muhammad Zardari’s parents were also the same,they were to busy because Muhammad Zardaris father owned a multi-starbusiness and his mother was co-owner. So that meant even when it wasone of the parents off day they would be called for some reason oranother. Muhammad Zardari had two brothers and both as well as himprayed. It was October 31 2008 13:45. Third block just ended and it wastime for Physical Education. Today the teachers were going to make thestudents to 10 laps around Memorial Park and they were all allowed tobring ipods or mp3 players to help pump them up in jogging. MuhammadAli (bad muslim) has brought it as well had Muhammad Zardari (goodmuslim) they were jogging side to side until Muhammad Zardari had totie his shoes and then caught up. When he caught up Muhammad Alistopped to change his song and bumped into each other. Their I podsfell and got switched. They both apologized to each other and turnedthe I pods on. In the run there was no absolute talking. Muhammad Aswitched his I pod on and then some weird Indian music or jazz hedidn’t know started to come on and then shut off. There words were “Sasri akal (Indian way of hello) today we will speak about why not to be amuslim and the BENEFITS of being a SIKH. Muhammad A was already runningand couldn’t take of the ipod because if you stop you get an extra50minutes. He tried to switch the lecture into something else but itwas filled with the same speaker talking about different prospects ofbeing a sikh in life. So Muhammad A switched the I pod off(withoutthinking it might be Muhammad Z’s). Muhammad Z turned the I pod on andthen started listening to the punishments of hell. He didn’t noticethat it was a muslim speaking until the word “Allah” came on. The wholeway he kept listening and observing. After the run everyone went homeincluding both Muhammads. Later that night but Muhammads couldn’t sleepand tried to sleep by listening to their I pods. Muhammad Z (good oneso far) listened to the Indian lectures and started getting draggedinto the religion “Sikh”. But on the other hand Muhammad A (the badmuslim so far) listened to all the lectures and started praying.Muhammad Alis parents noticed the good behavior and started prayingtoo. But Muhammad Zardari didn’t pray at all and wore a turban as thosereal Sikhs wore. His parents also noticed the bad behavior and startedtaunting him and also started praying harder to make him feel sorry.Muhammad Alis best friend also prayed and noticed that he did too. Hisname was Yanal. Muhammad Ali started neglecting Yanal after he got intothe Indian lectures but now was back with him. The shocking news wasthat Yanal also was Muhammad Zardaris friend, and one day. “AsalamAlaykum Muhammad(Z) I heared about my friend Muhammad (A) did you hearabout it too?asked Yanal. “ Walakum Asalam I did not but what hashappened can you tell me in full details so I may pray to our lordAllah to protect him in these hard times he is going through.”
So Yanal started explaining “Well he told me his I pod got switchedwith someones and he started listening to the junk inside and gotaddicted to it. I asked him to join a great muslim community forumonline called Islamic Board, but he neglected me as you use to do butthat doesn’t matter as he is turning into a sikh and his parents cantdo anything because he threatens to kill himself if they do anything tointerfere in his so called religious matters.”
Muhammad A was shocked “Brother I think that was my I pod he got hishand on as Muhammad and I also switched I pods and I had a load of thatjunk in my I pod. Allah raam o my bad this is all happening because ofme if I didn’t load that junk and dropped my I pod .”
Yanal was a sympathetic person and had sympathy for what situation bothMuhammads were going through. “ Hey brother it is the month of Ramadhanwhy don’t we ask our local imam to make special dua for MuhammadZardari.”
That made him happy and Muhammad Ali replied “yes we should do that”.So my brothers this dua is for a special brother that his two bestfriends have told me to do. I will speak it in English. May Allah (Swt)have mercy on this young fellow who has lost himself for a couple ofdays. May Allah (swt) bless him with a lot more deen. My brothers andelders I will tell a few turning points about him. He was a greatmuslim praying on time,reading the quran and was a nice human being.But now he has come to his test of his life where he will get tested byAllah so may we pray that he passes this test and get the reward inHeaven.”
After that everyone said “Ameen” Muhammad Zardari was crying andMuhammad Alis dad was also there(Abdullah). Abdullah saw MuhammadZardari crying and asked him “Do not cry, my son has been lost as theimam has said but I hope he learns his way around. If he doesn’t hewill get kicked out of his house because he is hanging around with badpeople.” Abdullah left,leaving both Yanal and Muhammad staring. Afterthat Muhammad Zardari tried to convince Muhammad Ali in becoming amuslim but he just couldn’t say yes. Soon after that Muhammad Zardaridied of overdosing drugs and was washed and buried. There a snake waswaiting and took his body. Yanal and Muhammad knew what that meant asthe story in LI. After 35 years Yanal died by a heart attack andMuhammad knew he prayed his life and was going to heaven so he wasn’tweeping as much as he weeped when Muhammad Zardari died. After 20 yearsmore Muhammad Zardari died with pleasing Allah with his deeds, he wassurely heading for heaven. A lot of people came as Muhammad Zardarissoul saw but none were close as he had been to Yanal and MuhammadAli…..
The End

 

[Re.TiReD]

AssalamuAlaykum

Done. Feel free to comment insha'Allah

WassalamuAlaykum

 

[~Taalibah~]

'
Long list! be back tonight to read, insha'Allah.

 

[Re.TiReD]

AssalamuAlaykum,

And if you're a judge....shame on you for viewing this thread :mmokay:

You ought to be in the other one

WassalamuAlaykum

 

[Yanal]

Nice stories (considering one of them is mine).

 

[IbnAbdulHakim]

whoah some o them sound really interesting!

defo gnna giv em a read! i love stories

 

[Re.TiReD]

Btw it'd be helpful if you guys choose a fave insha'Allah, just so that the judges get a general idea.

 

[Yanal]

I dont think i should chose because i am young and still am taking english our english teacher hasnt started lessons on grammer,in other words i have bad grammer so i cannot judge properly (good thing you took me out).

 

[Re.TiReD]

I dont think i should chose because i am young and still am taking english our english teacher hasnt started lessons on grammer,in other words i have bad grammer so i cannot judge properly (good thing you took me out).

ur allowed a personal opinion

 

[Güven]

:salamext:

OMG whats with all that grammar !?:skeleton:

 

[MinAhlilHadeeth]

:salamext:

I haven't read them all, or in order, just a few here and there that caught my eye. So far my favourite is 'The Crow'.

 

[Muezzin]

Wow. A lot of variety.

There seem to be slight technical issues - in many of the stories, words are not spaced correctly (e.g. 'theswan' instead of 'the swan'). I checked mine in the PM I sent and the spacing was fine. I imagine that's the case for the other entries affected. So that's a little odd.

But anyway, I look forward to reading all of them.

 

[Re.TiReD]

Wow. A lot of variety.

There seem to be slight technical issues - in many of the stories, words are not spaced correctly (e.g. 'theswan' instead of 'the swan'). I checked mine in the PM I sent and the spacing was fine. I imagine that's the case for the other entries affected. So that's a little odd.

But anyway, I look forward to reading all of them.

I'm sorry, I've realised that too but didnt have the time to edit them all. It has something to do with the other forum they were posted on (I copied them from there)... If your entry has probs like that please let me know and I'll edit my post....alternatively akhee, you could do that yourself...being a mod and all.

WassalamuAlaykum