The Hafiz Game

Chapter ٣

I went to a site I've grown to like since I finished the Quran. Www. Islamreligion.com. You get to talk to a live sheikh, which I liked. Plus it's anonymous so if I sound like a psycho, no one would know it was me.

I logged on and smiled when it said they were online and clicked it. It only asked for a name so I put a universal name, Mohamed, and waited until a sheikh logged on with me.

The sheikhs name was Talha. We got into a conversation and he asked me about my dreams. I told him everything, from the setting of the dreams and to the dress of my father.

I waited for a couple seconds for him to take it in when a long response came from him.

He told me that there are three types of dreams; one from Allah as guidance, one from Shaytan to misguide you, and some that you made up in your head. He told me that from what I told him, it looked like a dream that was sent from my dad. Sometimes when a person dies while they have unfinished business, or a loan that they didn't pay back they ask for someone to help them so they could live in eternal peace.

I frowned and starred at the screen. That made no sense. Dad has no loans or debts to pay back, so why do I have these dreams? Talha said his Salam and gave me his email if I had any other questions in the future. I thanked him and sighed while lying in my bed.

Dad. What are you trying to tell me? Could this all be a sick trick from the Shaytan? Could I just be making it up in my head because I miss dad?

Authubillahi Mina shaytaani rageem

I sighed and grabbed my shirt and put it on. I'm suspended today so might as well make the most of it.

It was already seven o'clock and time for Hana to get to school. I walked to her room and seen it empty. Before I called her name, I heard laughter from the living room and smiled. She's probably with mom.

I slowly walked down the stairs and stopped when a laughter I knew didn't belong to mom or Hana came from the living room. It was a girls voice, and it filled the living room.

I slowed my steps and peaked through a small space outlining the living room and smiled. It was Jafars mom, Aunty Aminah.

I rushed down the stairs and smiled when she gasped and stood up smiling at me..

"Imran! Is that you son? Or did you father come back from the dead and not tell me?" I laughed and smiled at her.

She was like a sister to dad and a mother to me. She helped raised me and Ja'far both. So basically she was a mom to me. I missed her after she went to hajj for the month. Jafar lived with Uncle Isa alone in the house and came to our house usually when he got tiered of the frozen food he and his dad would eat.

"Aunty Aminah your back!" She chuckled and smiled.

"Imran you've grown up Mash'Allah! How's school? I missed you and Abdullah so I went to a gift shop got you a little something as a gift." I sighed and smiled.

"Aunty you didn't have to." She snorted and searched her bag and ignored me.

"I don't have to do a lot of things in life sweetie but I do so be grateful." I laughed and waited until she stopped and smiled while pulling a wrapped up present from her bag.

"I had seen your father with this exact one so I decided to get you one. I hope you like it imran." I smiled and grabbed it from her hands.

It was heavy by not too heavy so I carefully unwrapped it and pulled the gift wrap away. It was absolutely magnificent.

She gave me a small journal that had the words 'Alhamdulilah' in beautiful calligraphy written on the front page. It was brown, small and looked ancient.