Wrote something just now.
(I didn’t take this picture it was friends display pic on WhatsApp.)
A very simple post about status update. I use WhatsApp alot and since now it has a way to share your story or your status for 24 hours I use that. Instead of sending people pictures and clips separately.
Be sure to read till the end.
In the morning as I was checking some grouo chats, I came across a lovely video with the following words:
Thus, I shared it as my status.
In the afternoon, I ended up posting this with a caption.
It was my DREAM to take a picture like this and I did! In my DREAM. (Which is true.) Now I’m just waiting for that dream to become reality. 🌼
But that’s what’s wrong, am I right? We wish, we dream and then we wait. We don’t do much about it. But the day we push ourselves to do what pleases us and what seemed like a dream we will feel courageous. When we do what we thought we couldn’t is when we realize our might. When we finally do that with time the thought of not doing it seems like a dream. Because of how real our dream becomes on the end because of our struggle.
Here is another status update. I took the picture early morning, it might have fit the prompt glow…maybe? Anyway, here it is and of course with a caption! 😎
Haha I’m still here.😂
Why do we bound creativity?
To places, times, tools, mood, environment. To encouragement, motivation, inspiration. To thoughts, ideas and appearances.
Creativity is to create and when you have the fire in you to do it nothing else matters. Your way of expressing creativity can be by anything like perhaps painting, writing, cooking, designing, teaching, photography.ANYTHING.
I think sometimes I’m good at creative writing. When I get an idea or thought in my head that I think about it and just try to save it somewhere. But when I have words flowing through my head there is no way you can stop me from writing start to finish.Last year as we were learing about Cables and electricity I ended up writing the following. 🙂
Don’t let anything to stop you from unleashing your creativity. (But also pay attention in class. Haha)
With time her thoughts became as dangerous as poison and as dark as a grave, leading her into a maze with no way out.
Except for one, that was to unlock the door of hope.With the lost key being poetry?which she had forgotten. Yet she picked up the pen filled with ink as dark as her heart and spilled poetry. Letting the white paper soak in her thoughts, emotions and misery and lighting her soul.
Mrs. Ahmed carefully placed the polished diamond ring into the ultramarine velvet case, smiling to herself as she pictured her daughter’s wedding. However, a few seconds later, thought of her daughter moving out of the house into another city made her heart ache. Her mind was entangled in deep thoughts as she tried to mentally prepare herself for the big change. The sound of her husband broke the train of saddening thoughts and she headed to towards the bedroom. Thus, the last light still on in Mr. Ahmed’s house was turned off.
In the morning Mr. Ahmed was awoken by a loud scream. He jumped out of his bed and toward his wife who was now sobbing. The room that was silent a few minutes ago was now filled with Mrs. Ahmed cries. ‘Ahmed, it’s not here, I swear to God I the locker was locked last night, I…I can’t believe it.’ She paused. ‘How could this happen? What are we going to do?’ Her face had now turned read and her eyes swollen. Mr. Ahmed tried to calm her down and he quickly phoned the Inspector.
Within half an hour the Inspector had arrived with a team of two. After being explained that the precious item had been missing. The Inspector said to them, ‘Well this ain’t surprising.’ Mr. Ahmed was alarmed and had to ask, ‘What do you mean Inspector? ‘The inspector began, ‘This is the third case this week. There is a thief going around stealing different things. Mostly people have lost electronic gadgets, money and bicycles. But I’m sorry this happened to you Mr. Ahmed. We’ll try our best to track down the thief.’
The inspector was about to say something when his colleague approached, ‘Sir, we’ve found a clue that might help us catch the culprit. There is a red candy wrapper. ’A smile came across the Inspectors face as he ordered, “Well, get to it then.’ Mr. Ahmed was about to ask when the Inspector explained, ‘Sir, don’t worry we’ll track the teen thief. Apparently, this time the thief was in a hurry it seems, the candy wrapper must have slipped or of his or hers pocket. We’ll scan the finger prints found on this candy wrapper. Don’t worry, you’ll have your diamond ring back in the afternoon. That is a promise.’
The story is full of flaws. I know. But hey I at least there is something for Day 4 haha. XD
This was a post for DAY 4. If you’d like to participate in the ‘October Writing Challenge’ check out the word prompts here.Enjoy. 🙂
A mixture of misery and anger could be seen in her eyes. She was dressed in torn clothes, her dark dust covered hair hid her innocent dimpled face. Walking slow as ever into the darkness called home, managing to force half a smile as she spotted her one and only companion. It was her pet cat named Cherry. She clumsily walked towards it, as the furry animal welcomed her with a muffled meow. She gracefully sat next to Cherry and started to pet her.
Swallowing down her tears she spoke hesitantly, ‘No one cares about me, Cherry have you ever felt that way?’ In response Cherry blankly stared at her. This reaction made her giggle but the wave of laughter faded away as soon as it had come. ‘They all consider themselves to be above me. Why is my life so hard?’ she question not only this but the purpose of her existence.
‘Why am I never given a chance? Just because of my appearance. Because I don’t own better clothes? Can’t afford food!’ Do I not matter? her voice trembled as she attempted to control the whirlpool of emotions stirring inside her weak body. ‘I guess they follow that rule.’ She uttered the words with bitterness, as tears started to roll down her fragile face. Then with her mind tangled in thoughts and holding on to her aching heart she whispered, ‘We are what we eat. I eat nothing and so I am.‘ There was only one thing left to do, she used her hand as a pillow and tried to close her eyes shut to stop the tears from flowing. Sleep was the only way to fight the hunger, until the blazing sun in the morning forced her to wake up.
Once upon a time….umm half a decade ago? During holidays my mother insisted that I get up from bed because I had slept enough.There was no use of protest because she wouldn’t give up and make sure that I’m out of bed. So I thought she wants me off this bed and I did that.And still half asleep walked silently into her empty bedroom and fell asleep there.As I fell asleep my thoughts awakened and were running wild and I was assembling words in my dream after I had made up two sentenced that made a little sense, I couldn’t stop.Thus, a poem was born in my head.
However, the only problem now was to remember the poem.We all know that there are tonnes of dreams that we forget as soon as we get up. I didn’t wish to forget this.The sound of my mother calling me distracted me from my thoughts and concentration of trying to save the poem in my mind.Finally, I got up and with my eyes half closed went to my bedroom and without doing a thing grabbed a piece of paper and clumsily searched for a pencil and jot down every word I could remember.Some may think that was a clever thing to do nonetheless no one knows how horrible my handwriting was plus, the amount of time it took for me to actually decode the text later one.Anyway, here it is.I won’t explain it I’ll let you wonder.
P.S it was a gift for my parents.They were proud of it. 🙂 (Obviously it’s kiddish but it is also raw.My sister actually suggested that I share a picture, but I don’t want your eyes to get a heart attack by looking at my handwriting. You’ve welcome. 😛 )
As told by the rose
Don’t let the thorns fool you
I am a fragile bud
Just give me some time to settle in
and have some fun
Surely after all this
I’m sure a day will come
I will be all grown up
with petals like pink bubble gum
Though my thorns will be pointy
they won’t matter much
Ad by seeing the petals
they won’t be remembered much
I’m sure a day will come
when all this won’t be the same
My thorns won’t be stiff and strong
my petals won’t to look the same
Also that I’ll look wrinkled and dry
and my petals begin to fall
don’t worry about me because
that is what’s going to happen to all
even though they might be better than
or they may not be good at all
This ‘is’ what will happen to all
l just leave me and let me fade away
and don’t worry about me at all
But before all this I want you to know
I want to ask for forgiveness from you
for doing wrong to you all
Because you are the best parents anyone
could ever wish hope to wish for (at all)
*Be sure to remember me in your prayer
And In sha Allah! we’ll meet in heaven
where all those who ask for forgiveness before they die are.*
Read the INTRO here.
Ahh guys so sorry this so late.I told a few people that I will upload this soon or Saturday…but yeah didn’t exactly specify which Saturday.Haha. XD Life is like squeezing every ounce of energy out of me.
Thank you so much everyone for your words of encouragement. They mean lot!
Anyway here it is, I hope you like. 🙂 Let me know what you think of this.
Since as long as I can remember, I have always loved stories. Stories made my eyes sparkle with joy. They made me believe in what others may not believe in or help me to imagine more, as well as to ignite curiosity. A friend of my father had told me a story of how a little girl in the village (I really forgot the name) had been taught by her parents to always pray two Rakahs to Allah for anything she needed/wanted. That little girl obeyed. Whenever she would pray she would mostly ask for candy. And her parents knew about it and therefore while she was busy, they would quickly put some candy under her prayer mat or behind her without her noticing.
However, one day she wanted candy in the middle of the night. She did what she had always done. She stood on the prayer mat and behind her were stood nervous parents who didn’t have any candy left in the house. Unfortunately, they couldn’t go out to the shops and buy since all of the shops were closed at this hour of the night. They anxiously waited for what will happen after she had finished praying. That is when a miracle occurred. As soon as the little girl finished praying and picked up the prayer mat she smiled from ear to ear because she saw that Allah had (as always) given her what she asked for. Lots of candy! Her parents were overjoyed to see her so happy and filled with satisfaction. This story influenced me to a great extent. The little eight-year-old me was eager to try this myself, I also convinced my four-year-old sister to join me.
The two of us put our prayer mats and prayed to get not candy, but a whole meal. We prayed to Allah to give us roasted chicken (or was it chicken Mandi?). I specifically remember we had turned of the lights of the room (thought it was evening time) and stood in front of the window. We waited impatiently as we watched busy people and zooming cars from the window. Our plan was to keep looking outside so that when Allah sends down some angels, the angels don’t shy away. In other words, we wanted to see the Angels with full meal that they would put under our prayer mats. When we couldn’t wait any longer or felt hopeless we would sneak a look behind us. What confirmed, that the angels had not arrived was that our prayer mats didn’t look swollen. Yes, logic.
The funny truth is that our parents had no clue about this and couldn’t possibly come and put the roasted chicken. We checked under the mat and waited for a long time. Alas, no sign or smell of roasted chicken. The only thing left to do was fold back the prayer mat and put it in its right place. However, when we were doing it, the doorbell rang and we rushed to the door. There we saw our lovely father with his hands full. He held two huge small bags which he had brought from the restaurant. It was exactly what we prayed for, roasted chicken (or chicken Mandi).
We were extremely happy that our prayers were answered. Even though they were answered in an unexpected way. Our mission was accomplished and we felt proud of our little magical achievement. This whole incident was inspired by the girl who wanted to candy. She taught my sister and I that asking Allah sincerely will result in happiness. Furthermore, our experience taught us that your prayers can be answered in a way that may be unpredictable. Nonetheless, we must hold on to hope and have faith that our prayers will sooner or later be answered.
It has been almost a decade since this incident yet I never forget. I can’t ever forget the feeling or the scenes of how we got what we wanted. Of how Allah SWT does know what is in every heart. Plus, how we might assume different ways of achieving something but ultimately what has to reach us will in the way that Allah pleases.
When I think about it now, I tell myself I have known how to get what I wanted. Yet, someday I do not get what I want. Why is that? Is is that my heart isn’t as innocent and faithful as when I was young? Am I distracted and begin to believe more in resources on earth than from above? Or maybe it is just that not all our prayers are answered immediately. Some may never we be answered on earth. BUT for them we will be rewarded for in Paradise (Jannah).
Do you think this story was influential? Do you remember prayers that were answered in an unusual way?
Many of us consider our lives to be a story. All what we truly wish is a happy ending. Correct? According to me it wouldn’t be wrong to say that like all stories, our life is also based on chapters. Chapters of many kinds, like the stories we read. There are always chapters which are unforgettable. They may be filled with joy and laughter or tears and misery. Some ordinary and some out of the blue. There might even be some which are a bit blurry yet very clear. The bits of memories, of vivid images or hazy scenes, and traces of emotions, along with the bridge of time make our lives worthy to be called a story. A chapter story in which we cling on to some lessons learned, as we cross the bridge and move forward. Some chapters, teach us valuable lessons and others teach nothing at all. Perhaps.
This is an attempt to start a series called ‘Memories.’Please give me your honest feedback via comments down below or through email.It will help me improve! 😀 Stay tuned! 😉
Edit: Read Chapter 1