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| These last nights... Short Story |
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| Ayaatee |
| 11/28/03 at 16:14:36 |
| [slm] sisters and brothers, Here is the first chapters from a short story currently being worked on at Urban Islamic Writers' website. If you like it and want to read more Insha'Allah, please visit http://islamicurbanwriter.bravehost.com It wasn't a joke. Time does really fly, I thought while sitting on the floor in my room. I held the Qur'an in my hands, slowly reciting my juz for the night in my plaid pajamas. The wind tapping against the windows reminded me that I wasn't really alone, ever. I don't know what I've done this month. Where has time gone? Ramadhan was coming to an end and I knew, deep down, I needed more. More hours, more minutes, I would even take more seconds to be able to say more duas, read more Qur'an, and make more salat. Too late now to cry over spilled milk. I stood and placed my Qur'an back on my dresser drawer and grabbed my jilbab and made witr for the night. It was after ten pm and I had school in the morning. "You'll get it right next Ramadhan, Jameelah." I told myself out loud. Pulling back my cold crisp gold comforter, I eased my way into bed. Tossing my body, left then right, I grabbed my pillow and settled on my right side. I knew this was going to be a long night. ****** RING * RING Fighting my way out of the deep sleep that I had drifted into several hours ago, I opened my eyes hesitantly. The sounds of the phone ringing startled and angered me. Who in their right mind could be calling me this early? Glancing over at my night table, the neon clock read five fifteen. I reached over and grabbed the cordless phone, knowing exactly who it was. "As salaamu 'alaikum, Sabah Al Khaiiiiir,ukhti!" "Wa 'alaikum as salaam, Khadijah. Would you turn your voice down a couple of notches." I grumbled. "Oh, cheer up sleepy head. It's time for suhoor and the salat is right behind it. Another day, more blessings to get, more good deeds to do, lots of..." "Okay, Khadijah! Shukran for the wake up call. I'll talk with you later. As salaam 'alaikum." Rolling my eyes in the dark, I cut my carefree younger sister off before my mood could get any worse. "Oh, alright Jameelah! Wa 'alaikum as salaam." Crawling out of bed, I headed into the bathroom and washed up, threw on my bathrobe outside my closet and went into the kitchen to find some thing light to eat before my fast started. After eating two green apples and drinking one of those instant breakfast drinks, I dressed in my usual attire, a navy blue jilbab and a black hijab. I offered Fajr, the morning prayer, in my room. My book bag packed and on my shoulder, I wrapped my car keys on my wrist, snatched my purse up and headed out the door to my car. With Shaykh Abdur Rahman Huthayfee pumping out of my car's tape deck, I recited along with him as he recited Surah al Mulk while I search the parking lot with my eyes for a spot to park in. Seeing a guy pulling out of a good spot, I tried to back up and drive around to get it. Too late. An older woman took it before I got there. Breathing in deeply, I counted to ten and said Alhamdulilah. Usually I had a hard time dealing with my emotions. I angered quickly. I promised myself the other night that these last days of Ramadhan I would do everything in my power to keep things under control. Basically, I was going to control myself. Who knows, Insha'Allah, Allah just might cure me of my bad temper for being willing to go to battle with it for myself. Insha'Allah, it's a possibility. I walked into the lecture hall late, like always. © Copyright 2003 please visit http://islamicurbanwriter.bravehost.com |
| 11/29/03 at 10:45:11 |
| Ayaatee |
Madinat al-Muslimeen Islamic Message Board |