Imam Ghazali told story of a man walking in the jungle. A roaring lion ran towards him and the man ran as fast as he could to escape from it. He noticed a well in front of him and he jumped inside hoping to escape from the lion.
As he was falling inside the well, he grabbed onto the rope and saved himself. The man was so relieved but when he looked down he saw a big snake at the bottom of the well. It had its jaws wide open ready to swallow him up.
The man then looked up and saw two mice nibbling at the rope. A black mouse and a white were both chewing into the rope. The scary lion was still prowling outside the well.
It was his birthday tomorrow, he loved birthdays, mummy's little boy, is growing up, tomorrow he's going to turn six.
Mummy always baked the most beautiful cakes for his birthday, last year it looked like a soccer ground, with little plastic players and his name right in the middle. He lay awake in bed wondering what mummy's gonna do this time, and daddy always gave him the best presents. He just loved birthdays...
One of the greatest feelings on earth is the realisation that we are not alone. That there is someone equally as weird as you out there... and then you meet them, again and again and again. What are the chances of that?
I could tell by the way she lay across the pillow that she hadnâ€™t slept in quite sometime. It bothered me more than it should. The way her mouth fell slightly open made me laugh; it was hard to believe that she had almost been killed. I could hear her breathing slowly. I didnâ€™t know if I should consider this a blessing or a test; to be able to see her again. Of course I knew how this would end so why should it be anything less than the latter.
So the hordes of hell broke through into Earth for a moment and took over all levels of government. In one day everything went to hell. And now they're after a girl? And not just any girl. The girl. Jabber had always said there was no such thing as coincidences or luck. I guess this is what he meant.
I leapt from rooftop to rooftop, carrying the unconscious Noor wrapped in my long coat. Of course as soon as Iâ€™d seen her it had started to rain. Some things never change. It had been almost 3 years since Iâ€™d last seen her. I guess I should be thankful to the mask Iâ€™m wearing. It would be better for all if she didnâ€™t know who I wasâ€¦ not after our last conversation.
â€œIf thatâ€™s what you wantâ€ she had said. I remember the look on her face. The pain in her eyes.
Fifteen years ago a gateway to hell was opened and a plague of evil spread across the land. London was in complete darkness for days and in that time the hordes of hell infiltrated every level of government. Afterwards there was chaos. Against such opposition the Prime Minister became over-whelmed; people were being slaughtered, cities were in flames and in his panic he resigned. A new Prime Minister was elected: Prime Minister Ruban Gadriel and then the world changed forever.
published by Kunoichi on 18 December, 2009 - 14:05
The man who committed 99 Murders
On his 99th Murder
he heard someone say
"you'll be punished tomorrow
for the crimes you did today."
So he went to a man
who was respected and good
Told him what he'd done
would he be forgiven if he could?
The man shoook his head
and quickly he said
"Hell is made for people like you
God'll punish for the people you slew"
So the man said "oh well
if my final resting cell
is that fiery pit of hell
I might kill you as well"
But he still felt blue
With the fact that he knew
He was not worthy of Allah
And the tears fell down his face
As he felt out of place
In the house for Salah
Someone heard his weeping
"What painful secrets are you keeping?
Why are those your tears that are seeping
through your clothes?"
published by Seraphim on 15 November, 2009 - 23:55
And the not-so-anticipated sequel of 'Summer of 1994', the story continues from where we left off last time. Enjoy
"The Summer Of 1994" was mostly about my night life and nightmares. This story gives a little background on me and things that happened to me during the "waking" hours. If you have read "Summer of '94" you know a little about what I dreamed about and things of that nature.
I grew up in a very, very, very religious home. I grew up with an understanding of God and the teachings of the prophets.
I also realized and knew that there was a dark side to life as well.
I'm in uni today deleting old files and backing up what's important and I've come across something I wrote a couple of months back.
Remember that story about a rich sheikh torturing some dude who crossed him in business? When I read about it I felt sick and so that day I started to write a story...it was an interesting story and one that didn't get finished. But the prose was smooth and for that reason I didn't want to delete it. So here it is, me getting annoyed with injustice and subsequently getting creative: