a la Rawry.

Just so everyone knows 'the man who lives forever' idea was "admin"'s

I'll add more on as I go along if I feel it's worth bothering to.

As always, I welcome feedback Pardon

So Here goes.

Dr Stanfield sensed the old man's impatience and frustration but there was no getting around this-he had to know what he was getting himself into;the risks he was potentially taking.
"So?" he demanded " Can i have it then? will it work?" he was babbling now, agitated and excited.
Dr Stanfield frowned. " It's not quite as simple as that Mr Rye, you have to understand the complications and risks, i mean once you've decided to go through with it, you have to know that there's just no- "

The long walk home

It was a cold daark winters night. The streets were empty and uninviting and I had to get home. The bus was late so I thought I would walk it home through the GRAVEYARD.

The graveyard was big and dark, but it was the fastest way home and I wanted a cup of hot chocolate. nice and warm.

There is no one around so this walk will be short and uneventful. Its not like there are ZOMBIES are there? the graveyard is empty. There will be nothing there that can hurt me.

Hey what's that? an open grave? so weird. why would it be open? I thought they only buried people during the day... so where the coffin? is that a ladder I can see in there? why?


A little boy asked his mother, “Why are you crying?”

“Because I need to,” she said.

“I don’t understand, “ he said.

His mum just hugged him and said, “And you never will”.

Later the little boy asked his father, “Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?”

“All women cry for no reason,” his dad answered carelessly.

The little boy, still wondering why women cry, finally asked the old wise sheikh. “He surely knows the answer,” he thought. “O sheikh! Why do women cry so easily?”

The sheikh answered: “When Allah (swt) made the women she had to be made so special. He made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world, yet gentle enough to give comfort.

He gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that comes from her children.

The boy and the king

Suhaib reported that Allah's Messenger (may peace be upon him) thus said: There lived a king before you and he had a (court) magician. As he (the magician) grew old, he said to the king: I have grown old, send some young boy to me so that I should teach him magic. He (the king) sent to him a young man so that he should train him (in magic). And on his way (to the magician) he (the young man) found a monk sitting there. He (the young man) listened to his (the monk's) talk and was impressed by it. It became his habit that on his way to the magician he met the monk and set there and he came to the magician (late). He (the magician) beat him because of delay.

Why do I read the Qu'ran?

Iv noticed people are putting up poems up as their blogs. I dont understand poems. So Iv decided to put up a nice and simple story, Iv read which Iv found inspirational Smile

Why do we read Quran, even if we can't understand a single Arabic word???? This is a beautiful story.

An old American Muslim lived on a farm in the mountains of eastern Kentucky with his young grandson. Each morning Grandpa was up early sitting at the kitchen table reading his Quran. His grandson wanted to be just like him and tried to imitate him in every way he could.

One day the grandson asked, "Grandpa! I try to read the Quran just like you but I don't understand it, and what I do understand I forget as soon as I close the book. What good does reading the Qur'an do?"

A beautiful story

He almost didn't see the old lady, stranded on the side of the road. But even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was stills puttering when he approached her.

Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so … was he going to hurt her? He didn’t look safe; he looked poor and hungry.

He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill which only fears can put in you. He said, “I’m here to help you, ma’am. Why don’t you wait in the car where it’s warm? By the way, my name is Khalifa.”

The tale of the two tasbeehs


This is from a dream I had this morning. It was all grand and adventurous, so I thought it merited being written up into a short story. Dreams can be a bit weird here and there and not connect in places, so I'm using artistic license to help the flow. For those who don't know, a tasbeeh or subha is a rosary/'necklace of beads' used for dhikr.

It was night in the market place but traders still crowded around the stalls. In the shallow light of flaming torches, men in turbans and coloured robes traded goods and information.

Writing a Story

While sitting on the microbus (only 10p to ride, but no oyster card system; I'm not sure if this means its better than London or not...) I started thinking about a far-off, fantasy world (as I often do)...but suddenly, it came more and more 'alive' inside my mind:

Characters, islands, history, all part of this 'made up universe'

Specific scenes developed, and slowly an overall plot formed.

Later on in the day, I was walking around town (lost), and I was thinking more and more about this...In my opinion it has the potential for a 'proper' story, like a novel.

So should I start to write it? Or is this a big waste of time, which I will give up on in a few weeks and then find the file on my computer and be hopelessly embarrassed of?


heres one of my homework assignments on co-wives:


Miriam ran through fields of daffodils and crocuses and lilies and every other flower you can think of, the pollen stained her laced dress orange. Her golden hair bounced above her shoulder in ringlets, she lay on the bed of flowers and stared at the masses of clouds above her, trying to make out a picture of some sort. A smile spread across her pretty face as she made out a rabbit wearing a dress, sunbathing on a book. Suddenly, the sky turned black and rain clouds invaded the sky, the rabbit hurried off, and water began pelting down, except the rain wasn’t normal, the droplets were hot, boiling hot…

Rate My Writing: Blind Vision

This is basically something i did back at school and i just found it on ma PC so i thort lets find out if you lot think its any good.. PARENTAL ADVISORY: EXPLICIT CONTENT lol
Its sort of to do with Islam, about things that make people wake up, Gangsters wake up lol


Blind Vision is a short story, fundamentally in derivation of the universal concepts regarding revolution. The story explores of how even the worst of men can be delivered from “blindness” unto “vision” and how hope drenched societies and personalities encompass a seed of sanctity. Seeds weathered with convincing elements such as calamity or that of awakening events; stimulate growth out of “darkness” and unto “light”.

Blind Vision: