Alnihayya

||D e a t h H o l e||

Comment here a weird thing you do on eid that no one else does.

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This one is for myusuff
:)

Say, 'If the sea were ink for [writing] the words of my Lord, the sea would be exhausted before the words of my Lord were exhausted, even if we brought another [sea] like it as well.'

-Translation from-
-Al Quran-
-18:109-

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F  i  f  t  y   T  h  r  e  e

Mashal
The sky rushed by in a blur.

"Stretch your arms!!" Zeyara had shouted, probably a trick for a safer falling.
For those morbid seconds we were suspended in the air, limbs swaying, mouths agape, I closed my eyes falling in the darkness to an invisible floor. A floor meant to kill us if we continued to fall at that speed. My hijab whipped around as the air pushed against my face, making it impossible to breathe. However, Minahil had even managed to scream.

An instant later, there was a deafening blast from where the missile hit the abandoned helicopter. The dreadful blow of the explosion pushed me and Zeyara, the force flinging us away in a different direction than Ibrahim and Minahil. They had been fortunate to jump first for they had escaped the mass of terrible sensations as the broken pieces of glass and aluminium showered down on my husband and I.

Time seemed to slow down for a bit, causing a rush of flashbacks of my normal life which had turned into an inevitable adventure since the emergence of Zeyara in it, since I had felt the highly meddled feeling of being in love with someone whose face I had never seen.

Like a blind bulbul who could only smell the rose, not perceive it's beautiful features.

There was me praying for a Muslim neighbour, unmindful that I was actually praying for my husband, there was the sticky note in the prayer room, Minahil's red car. There was 'Zainab' as well and Mrs. Shamim. There was the full moon in Pakistan who witnessed me running away from the protection of the one who had been written for me, probably before the moon was created.
There was Sanan and Al Shams, there was Marwa and Uncle Suleiman. There was Ibrahim and there was baba.
Then there was a rose as well.

And the other flowers had complained
there's more beauty to praise around.
One day loving the rose all along
You'll find, was entirely wrong.

The bulbul said, I know where I belong
For nothing else can give my heart a song.

"Mashal!!" That scream of Zeyara again. "I said stretch your arms!"

I allowed my arms to stretch, giving myself wings. Making myself the bulbul.

The helicopter, a ball of fire being pulled more strongly by gravity than us rushed past me and the last thing I witnessed was how the helicopter blades sliced through the branches of a tree, reducing to nothing but a wretched mess of metals.