The Not-So Perfect Muslim Twins [COMPLETED]

Chapter Twenty-Two: Being Ridiculous

Assalamu Alaikum warahmatullahi wabarakaatuhu, here is this week's chapter! But please don't forget to pray. Whether it be Fajr, Zuhr, Asr, Maghrib, or Isha. Please don't miss it. 

Yadirah 

When I woke up on a Saturday morning at 11am, I heard Muhammad, my baby brother, crying his head off. I don't exactly remember Suwaydah crying this much. I got out of bed, reading the dua for waking up to another day. 

الحَمْدُ لِلهِ الَّذِي أَحْيَانَا بَعْدَ مَا أَمَاتَنَا وَإِلَيْهِ النُّشُورُ

All praise is for Allah who gave us life after causing us to die, and unto Him is the resurrection.

When we were kids, our parents told Binyamin and I that every time we would go to sleep, we would die. Well... actually we were eavesdropping on our parents conversation. And that's way too scary for a child to hear. But imagine my brother and I... we stayed up the whole night, trying not to die! When my mom woke us up the next day, she knew we didn't sleep, and we got a huge scolding from her. But that didn't stop us from falling asleep in all the other classes except her class. She was a scary teacher, but most of all she was a ridiculously scary mother when it came to proper sleep... and her pudding. When she found out what kept us up that night, she couldn't stop laughing. But she didn't make any fancy fantasy to cover it up. 

"It's true." She said that day. 

"But we breath when we sleep, don't we?" Binyamin asked her. "How is it that we die when we sleep? Mom, I think you're just exaggerating." He said, acting all smart. Our mom flicked her forehead and scowled at him. 

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Mister. You're too young to know what's right and what's wrong in this life. Yes, you are still technically breathing. But sleep is a type of death. Your soul is connected to your body, but it's not exactly in your body. And everyday you wake up from your slumber, you should be grateful." 

"Why?" I asked, not understanding a word. I was only eight years old and I too dense to even think like my brother - sometimes, I used to think that he too more of my smartness in the womb than he should have... if that even makes any sense. 

"Because Allah gave you another day to live!" Our mom said, grinning. "Every night the angel of death takes our soul and everyday he returns our souls to our body in the morning by Allah's permission. Are you scared yet?" She asked, still grinning. 

"Are you trying to put us to sleep or are you trying to make us never sleep a wink ever again?!" I yelled. I almost felt like crying that day. Now that I think about it, there was no regret, no remorse on that woman's face. Binyamin and I were afraid. While Binyamin used to think my mom would exaggerate, I thought she always spoke the truth. Our mom used to scare us with Jinn stories when we got a little older - whether we asked for it or not. But as we began growing older, we did start asking for it. 

"Of course not." She replied, smiling. "When will Allah love you?" She asked. 

"When we do good." I said. 

"So no matter what age you're at, do good. Sure, death can be scary. But Jannah isn't. Meeting Allah isn't. If you're too afraid of death, are you afraid of Allah as well?" She asked. 

"No, Allah's the nice one." I said, biting my lips. 

"Exactly." She said, calmly. "If you do good, you should be happy to meet Allah."