Crash

Crash Gideon blew out slowly. It was a rough day. Not only was Gideon in a cooped up glass box but everything was pressuring him into almost-submission. He couldn’t speak from the effort. Standing up from meditation he took stock. It had been a difficult day. He had felt distant and angry. Too much was happening and he was struggling to keep control. Breathing in once more he formed words in his head, random words. Then let them out. It was soothing. Only the sound of the fridge and traffic from the highway a kilometer away could be heard. And his breathing. Standing still he felt every part of his body move and react. His heart was slower now, and his mind still. Only his actions came to mind now. Only the movements, the moment. Somehow Gideon wished he could get into this mindset any time he liked but it never happened, he felt emotions boiling over and volcanoes erupting every moment of every day and the only struggle was to keep it all at bay. Then boom, it would explode and he would further bottle it up; visibly shaking and dangerously silent. This was his dark side. This was his time bomb. And time was soon running out. … “No dawn, it won’t happen in a year’s time. It’ll be done tomorrow. No later, and it won’t happen any earlier. I can’t help it that our service provider decide to have office parties for December in November. Okay. Speak to you tomorrow.” The phone was put down. Gideon had nearly slammed the phone but managed to stifle his frustration. It was one of those days. The scar on his shaven head was showing quite openly and shone in the light of the LCD in front of him. His brown eyes were dark and his skin was turning red. He was twitching and he knew it, but he clicked the shut down button on his laptop and began packing his equipment away. There were two other technicians working in the glass encased monkey cage that was the IT department. It had occurred to Gideon that his time in this company had been good till the merger with that other company. He felt frustration build inside him and imagined the manager’s heel break (the same manager who had threatened to speak to the director of the company and fire him if he didn’t sort out that telephone box within thirty minutes, that could only be replaced in two hours) and he imagined her fall and break her pale white right knee walking out of the lift on the ground floor. He put aside the hateful thought and invested it for a time when she truly deserved it. The laptop was off and he packed his bag. His team leader, Simon, an African man with dark eyes and the smile of a teenager who just learned what the words “blow job” meant. He also had overly observant eyes and an uncontrollable tongue. “Hey Gid, what’s up with you? You don’t look to good.” Gideon didn’t look good, and he realised that it was true, but he kept it all in and just gave Simon a dirty look and said “It’s nothing.” And began to step off his chair when Simon asked “Did you update your calls?” Another burst of anger. And another burst stifled. Gideon closed his eyes and held it in some more. Gideon put on his Adidas hoodie. “Yes.” Replied Gideon angrily. Simon stepped back. “Fuck you. Don’t get angry with me. I didn’t do anything.” Simon carried on looking at Facebook as Gideon packed up. That wasn’t true though. Simon had been one of the prime causes of stress for Gideon for the last six months. If he wasn’t sucking up to the IT Manager, he was giving Gideon’s team flack for anything he deemed unworthy or he simply vented out his frustration on them. And if he wasn’t doing those things, he was making some very nasty and unnecessary comments. Gideon looked away, resisting the urge to punch Simon in the face and simply walked to the door. He scanned his ID card on the access control sensor and walked toward the entrance of the ninth floor. Gideon realised he forgot his car keys at his desk. He walked back to his desk. Simon was talking to his girlfriend and looked at Gideon as he came back. “What’s wrong? Thinking too much about fucking your girlfriend to remember your car keys?” Gideon said nothing, picked up his car keys and walked back out of the doors past his office. Simon had to mention Gideon’s girlfriend. There was tension between him and Elise in the last week. It was the last thought he needed. He had enough. Between dealing with clients swearing all day and Simon’s crude comments Gideon was fast becoming a ticking time bomb. Before Gideon left the office he went to the window facing De Korte street. He glanced at his watch to see the time. It was Seven P.M. and the street was almost abandoned apart from some night buses and small vehicles crossing every few minutes. He had an ill feeling. Gideon began to sweat under his arms and his fists clenched. The thoughts of Elise lit the wicks on his dynamite birthday cake. Thoughts of Simon’s chair breaking under him were materializing in Gideon’s mind, his mind formed pictures about the plastic snapping beneath the legs and the chair suddenly losing balance and Simon falling face first into his laptop keyboard bloodying his nose with terrifyingly satisfying sounds. Gideon heard Simon swearing in the distance and laughed. It was his lucky day. Gideon was still twitching and had realised the twitching was becoming worse. Something was rearing out of control within him but he held the calm within him with great difficulty. Gideon took the stairs. Running down the stairs made his legs work. Eighteen flights of stairs was hard work after a long day at the grindstone but Gideon needed it. Gideon exited the ninth floor and began to talk. His legs began to run down ten steps to half of the first flight and his legs gained a life of their own. His anger was still building, thinking back to the time Elise used his savings to buy a pair of shoes and a jacket after using the excuse that she needed to buy groceries. Then his mind shifted harshly to when the IT Manager blamed him for Simon’s stupidity resulting in a disciplinary hearing which was later rescinded. His mind then turned harshly to Elise’s dangerous blue eyes wandering glances to the accounts guy named Jonathan at the company year end dinner. It’s all coming out, thought Gideon. And I can’t control it. The anger was rising slowly causing the rage to rise within him like acid. His body shuddered with pins and needles. Tonight was someone’s judgement night. The exercise of running down the stairs warmed Gideon and he found himself enjoying the warmth on a winter’s night. The blood was tolling now, and it tolled for someone. This was the dark side of the moon, and the eclipse was coming out. Soon the ground floor was reached and Gideon scanned his ID card on the sensor to the building exit. Gideon felt the hairs on his chest rise like hairs of a werewolf. He could swear they felt longer. Gideon gritted his teeth as if waiting for some prey. This scared him but the feeling inside him was becoming addictive, as if he wanted to get back at every bad action, every moment of embarrassment and every suppressive compromise ever pushed onto him. The visuals were coming stronger now. The time his father nearly bashed him on his car window flashed like red across his vision in anger when he had confronted him about being drunk the night before. He winced. Gideon was nearly out of the building with the backpack on his shoulders that he forgot he was carrying in the flurries of emotions. It felt heavier tonight. He showed the security guards at the entrance of the building his equipment pass and moved out toward the parking lot. More memories flooded his mind. He saw the expression of the taxi driver laughing when he ground his Hi-Ace against Gideon’s Renault as he was driving off never to be seen again. The moonlight was out and the stones shined almost beautifully on the tarmac of the parking lot of the building in Braamfontein. The parking lot was empty and the main gate was closed. Gideon had control, it just wasn’t the control he thought was there. It was ugly control. It was flood gate control. All he had to do was press a little button and a little bolt of lightning would strike anyone he wanted to be struck by lightning or a storm of bees or wasps, or other horrible little things. Gideon knew he could do it but he controlled that. Tonight was different though, Gideon felt free. This was his Dark Phoenix. His fists were tighter clenched as he approached the guardhouse next to the main gate. Another memory flooded by. This was his father pinning his mother down and raising his hand on the verge of beating his mother. There was another flash of red on Gideon’s vision. The guard nodded as Gideon approached and let him through. It won’t be the guard, thought Gideon. The guard’s name was Phineas, a light brown skinned man with a strong build and face. Many years ago, this man could’ve been a Zulu King but in modern times such things are rare. Gideon liked him, he was always friendly toward him and Gideon liked to give the man his leftover lunch. Other times he’d buy the man some food before leaving work so he’d eat something good that night. “Howzit Phineas?” Asked Gideon. “Sharp boss. You orite?” Replied Phineas “I’m good my friend. How’s work tonight?” “I’m tired bra, but its my job.” Sighed the guard. “Know what you mean.” Gideon and Phineas talked a short while before crossing the road. Then they both crossed the road. Gideon smiled, this man was likeable, dependable and the kind of person you’d feel safe with. Though tonight a darkness seemed to cloud around the man. Phineas never saw it of course. Gideon wondered if he had been able to see this before and shivered. The Dark Gideon grinned inside him knowingly. How long had he been able to see like this? Gideon shook a glance to his left to see a man standing next to a fire hydrant about ten meters away from across the second parking lot. The gate to that parking lot was locked and the streetlights illuminated the chain and lock. Gideon looked further up to see his silver Renault Megane parked on the left hand side of the lot. Gideon and the guard crossed the empty road. Braamfontein was a quiet place at night and it seemed peaceful. But something was in the air tonight, Gideon could feel it. Better judgement would’ve told him to go back into his office and tell Phineas to go back to his post safely behind the gate but The Devil was in him so he continued walking toward the parking lot gate. “Phineas, Be careful.” Warned Gideon. Phineas nodded at him and looked around. It seemed as if the guard was also picking up on the deadly atmosphere of the night. He’s going to die, you know. Gideon felt ill. It seemed as if there was a warning in the air and the Dark Gideon were giving him information he wasn’t privy too before. Gideon knew there was nothing he could do. He knew the new Gideon was right. He didn’t know if the man would die now or later but he would die, that was a guarantee. Gideon walked briskly to the Renault, unlocked it via remote and packed his laptop in the boot. He looked back toward the gate of the parking lot. Then Gideon glanced right toward the street to see the man who was by the Fire Hydrant walking toward the gate and that was when he knew what was going to happen. Gideon froze for a moment seeing something shimmer slightly in the man’s hand. Then the item disappeared. The man began to talk to Phineas and within a heartbeat the two men looked like one and Phineas fell silently to the ground. The man was now walking toward Gideon. It was more than a walk. It was a lope. This was no mere criminal. He was a hunter. The Hunter wore a balaclava, Gideon could see that much. He was hunting Gideon. Gideon’s mouth went dry and he ran toward the car. The man with the weapon was fast approaching and Gideon banged the door shut as he jumped in, locked the vehicle from the inside and looked in his rear view mirror. Fear struck him for a second begging him to flee but something happened. The Dark Gideon took control. So He waited for the man to come. As he looked in his rear view mirror he saw something else appear in the man’s hand. The dull metal sheen stood out in the darkness. Gideon wasn’t afraid now. He simply waited for the gun barrel to get pointed to his head and somehow knew that this was merely tonight’s beginning. The barrel came, as expected and Gideon opened up the window. “We’re going for a ride” stated the man matter of factly. “Now be nice and open the door unless you want your car to get a pretty crimson interior.” The would-be criminal sounded far more purposeful than any petty criminal Gideon had ever heard about. He was too collected for that. As Obligated Gideon unlocked the passenger side of the vehicle and the man stepped in. This was a white man with a gun. This was definitely no ordinary hijacker. His knuckles looked hardened and was holding the gun so hard that the veins on his hands were standing out blue-green. There was a silver ring with an image of an elongated body of a snake engraved on it on his right index finger. Gideon closed his eyes a moment and something spoke inside him. Look in is heart. Gideon effortlessly saw it, fear and guilt. Gideon started the car and reversed out, moving slowly out of the parking lot. “You didn’t need to kill him.” Said Gideon coolly. The grip on the pistol hardened and the gun was pressed barrel first on Gideon’s temples as if to speak words that no mouth here needed to say. “You want to die?” A sudden flash occurred and Gideon saw it, a white man kissing Elise with his hand on her ass. His right hand. On the right hand was a ring, with an image of a snake’s elongated body engraved on it. So it was you you asshole. Gideon waited to say something, or to find something profound but had nothing to say, so he waited. And still no words came. “We’re going to every Standard Bank ATM we can get till you give me every cent in your savings account. Now Drive.” Gideon knew that asking how the man knew that Gideon had a rather large sum of money was ludicrous. So he waited and said nothing. Instead Gideon would start visualizing every weakness in the man’s body, starting with the heart, traveling through and finding the blackness from the nicotine and tar from the smoking the man did to the potentially poisonous scum that lay in the man’s colon. Then Gideon saw it. His nose, he had a painful sinus problem. He could hear it in his breathing and the wheeze in his chest. He could feel it blocking up. Gideon drove, taking the M1 North highway onto the Oxford Road offramp. He felt the gun pressing against his side. Gideon then moved his vision to the gun itself. There was a problem with the gun. It was rusted inside, and the mechanism was worn. He knew that the gun was not maintained. He could feel that too. And so, moisture began to produce within the gun rapidly, rusting some more, causing friction within the barrel itself once the gun would be fired. Then he loosened the cocking mechanism quietly. “I’m going to Rosebank Mall.” Confirmed Gideon. The man in black merely looked at him and nodded. He pressed the gun harder. Driving on, Gideon drove onto Rosebank Mall to get to the first Standard Bank ATM closest by. A teenage couple had just come out from the cinema area past Steers from watching a movie together and were stumbling drunkenly. Gideon looked around surveying the people around. There was a security guard standing by a boom facing Ninos but he was talking to some customers of the mall. The man in black had a coat on where he hid his gun. Gesturing toward the building with the ATM machines in it, he said “Get out. We’re getting me some money.” Gideon stepped out and waiting for the man. “Move.” Commanded the man in black. Another flash happened in front of Gideon’s eyes. Elise was at a jewellery store in Rosebank, she was buying a ring. See? She used your money for him. The voice echoed in Gideon’s mind. He felt his urge for vengeance rise. Just wait. His time is coming. So Gideon waited some more, with more anger rising but nothing showing on the surface. The man followed Gideon to the ATM under the escalators and Gideon said “I can only take out five thousand rands.” The man waited and said nothing. Gideon took out the money. The money came in a thick bundle of two hundred rand notes. Crisp and never used before, except maybe by a Nigerian drug dealer. The acid was building inside Gideon. It was coming he thought, Dark Gideon also knew. There was five thousand rand left in his account. He’d get shot after that and then the man would run away with Elise with that small sum of money. Well, that could happen though Gideon. But not under my watch, he declated. “Let’s move on. You’ll be quick if you want to live.” And the man followed Gideon into the car. Gideon drove on now. Another flash of red. He’s naked and screwing her in Gideon’s bed. After they both come they drop the condom on Gideon’s pillow. The twitching is coming back now and Gideon’s nostrils began to flare. His breathing was becoming deep. Not yet. Gideon waited again, growing impatient. Another flash of red. The man in black was hitting his mother after she told him to get a job. Beating her down and taking all her valuables and leaving her there. He took her car and left her there. It was Eight-Thirty P.M. and they were traveling to Hyde Park. Gideon drove onto Jan Smuts Drive and turned into the Hyde Park parking lot. Then the voice spoke. It’s time. He thinks he has you. He thinks you’re scared of him. Do it. Gideon felt the words come to him in thick venomous rivers. The Acid began to build. It was Gideon’s turn now “You think you’re going to live Peter? After you shoot me getting the rest of my money? You think you’re going to be rich and you and Elise can do each other while I lay on the floor with my brains splashed all over my car? Do you? Do you think that after what you did to your mother you can get away with taking away my money and life? Not on my watch.” “What the fu-“ And Gideon cut him off. “No swearing on my watch you bastard. You want to feel pain like you caused for poor Phineas? I can help you with that. See that gun? It’s not going to work. Shoot me.” And Gideon stopped the car in a parking bay. Gideon felt the man’s heard began to beat like congas and the gun pointed to Gideon. Click. No bullet fired. The mechanism failed just as Gideon had promised. “Now it’s my turn you prick. You and she belong together. Greedy, selfish and nasty people. You think you can just take and live with it.” And so the revenge began and Gideon stared at the man named Peter. At first he scratched inside with invisible claws and then began to slice at the man’s sinuses. Blood began to flow down his nose and the screaming began. It was the kind of scream that made you scream if you heard it, but Gideon kept quiet as if nothing happened. He was giving this man a dose of his own medicine. Then Gideon began to remove the tar and nicotine from Peter’s lungs, making it flow upward out of his mouth and opened up the car’s passenger window. He coughed it up in splutters onto the parking floor. It was then that Gideon squeezed the man’s heart and constricted the veins, ventricles and vessels. Then it all stopped. Gideon looked at the man whose eyes were now filled with terror. The man had nothing to say. He tried to explain but every time he explained more of the black stuff would come out and he would spit it out. Even if he tried to get out of the car more bilious black stuff would taper out of him as if that were all that was in him. “Take off that mask.” And the mask came off within a heartbeat. “Look at me and look well. You and her. You don’t ever come near me again. Look out that window and see what else I’ll take out of you and her. Now get out of my car.” Gideon threw a R200 note at him and he grabbed it and ran away. Gideon closed the window and resolved to get the car washed tomorrow. He stepped out of his car and went to go buy some ice cream. After all, it was Friday, and let’s face it. Who wants to work on a Friday?

Endless Wonders

Endless wonders never cease, 

Forever trying to iron this crease;

From my mind, my soul.

Always searching for my own.

Trying to be that which I have never shown

So that I may understand how much I have truly grown.

So in my heart, truly is;

That sense of peace with my life’s lease, never signed but to which I am bound.

In the end I await, hearing and listening for that sound;

For me to enter that space in the ground.

In which I will lie,  so that I may at last let out that contented sigh.

Sunrise

Sunrise, glowing anew.
Never has anything ever been so true.
Wake me, open my eyes
For in them does your light shine.

Call me with supernatural words,
In dreams to other worlds.

Hear my words, as they whisp and traverse,
As my the quenching of my thirst,
Slowly fades.

Wake me once more in places of dark,
Till my breathe’s last,
Slowly dissipates.

Then bring me to you at last,
Where my creation beckons with farce,
In the yellow light of dusk.

Rumbles..

Dust swirls in the particles of the air like sparks of brown static, shaking the trees, twisting them in dances of chaos. The tarred road lies dry in the wake of the storm’s eye, as if preparing to soak in the life giving liquids after a century of drought. Begging, I thought for the water of life. Gusts of wind throw the scenery left then right in zombified silhouettes. Strange bodies these natural things are, so complicated yet so easy to move in unison.

Rusty siderails on the road stood their lonely vigil. It was reaching evening time, around evening time and the sun was setting into the west.  Living in a place like this made you become more of an animal than human. It was primeval being here. Every day was a battle but the strength was building in me with every day. Ten years so far. Ten years more I say.

It’s been ten years since the last bomb fell. Since then the world changed, but in many ways stayed the same. The clique nature of human settlements stayed the same, the same segregation, the same guns and the same war over and over again. But there was more to it, people weren’t as much people any more. They changed physically and mentally.

Some had appeared with harder skin, smaller eyes and sharper teeth. Others had stayed the same but were monsters inside. Some say it was the radiation that changed them, but it was the poverty, the greed and then it was the need for survival. Survival of the fittest, and most mentally infirm.

They say that all you have to do is pay attention, lessons arrive when you are ready. And the next move becomes easier to see.  I wish they’d  have seen that when signs of the violence began a decade ago. But it’s late for regrets like that. It’s too early for too much hope either.

Soft foot pads shift impatiently in the grass long since cut by blades. A light snarl menacingly hides behind a film of grey grass. A young buck recently separated from its mother light munches on some old shrubs wearily. Its head cocks up in a burst of awareness fuelled by instinct and fear. A twig unnaturally snaps in the growth. It runs.

 

Four hooves galloping at blinding speed across a stretch of tar and asphalt. Gadoof, Gadoof, Gadoof.

 

A roar is heard in the distance and then and a gust of air is displaced followed by another. Large canines are bared and muscles are tensed, stretched and worked. Heavier steps thrust body into air, bursting with energy stored from catnaps.  Heartrates soar, instinct and reflex take over as the drumbeat of chase echoes through the war deadened landscape.

 

The buck bolts like an Olympian over an open field of sand, never pausing, cutting through the wind like a blade. Grass is jumped over, broken walls soared over quicker than any man could run. The cat runs faster, its burnt orange and black stripes a contrast in the urban jungle. Growls of frustration and hunger burst into the air, making is disperse as if avoiding the juggernaut breaking through it. Then the playing field changes and becomes far more technical, no long straights to catch its prey. Walls become lower but more unpredictable and the low energy levels coming from the cat’s strong legs drastically decrease.

 

The panting becomes ever more intense, dried parched throat becomes more and more daunting till it stops and the young buck disappears into the distance.

 

The resentment in the heart of the beast settles once more and is stored for a time of easier meals, and less energy expense. Mole Rats are becoming less and less appealing. It rests once more, then it catches a sense of something far more appealing then any buck. Man. It has been a long time since it has enjoyed a meal like that. Renewed energy fuelled by hunger and greed takes the scent in and it stalks ever so further toward that scent of deliciousness. Soft growls go unheard satisfactorily to none other than their owner.

 

Then there’s a bang. The cat stops cautiously as if in knowing what happened. It steps away slowly. There is no predator like man and his gun. It decides Mole Rats aren’t such bad prey after all. The scent of gunpowder is alluring but all too risky.

The buck falls hard, dying instantly.

There is a time and place for this it says. I will have my prey.

 

Meanwhile, a man called Cassius reloads a .44 rifle and wills the filling of his stomach. It has been a while since he has eaten. He looks around listening for danger and instinctively follows through to the corpse now bleeding.

 

“Ten years is a bloody long time to live with this kak.” He then radios into the base three kilometres away to his wife. “I’ve got some food. Start a braai. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” . His wife replies “You didn’t call me for the whole day, I was worried. Please hurry back. I’m worried.”

 

He lifts the buck with all his strength and follows his way to town. His family must eat first. They need to survive these hard times. His stomach rumbles at the thought of that meat. Tired, hungry and determined, he steps a little further toward living another day.

 

Speak kindly…

Speak kindly my child,

Child of future and times.

 

Speak of those whom have wronged with love,

For all that you may have now will never last.

 

Look to him, upon whom all depends,

For it his hand, from which he lends.

 

Make with your hands which you care,

For it may not always be there.

 

Treasure the gold which never appeared so,

For when it is cleansed it may go.

 

Ask nothing of others to which you never give yourself,

For it is them who’ve picked you up after you fell.

 

Then look above, smile and touch that heart,

For the greatness that in you is born, not you,

May be all that that will ever last.

Tender Moments

Touch of a hand, kiss on the cheek.

Whisperings of sweet nothings, eyes of adoration.

Make me smile, make me happy.

Make me grin, make me silly.

To you I dedicate this, a show of appreciation.

To you I give this, a gift of reciprocation.

Once again, a touch of a hand.

Once more, a pleasing thought.

Send me love, send me flowers.

Send me hope, send me peace.

For a while longer, a touch of a hand.

Whisperings of sweet nothings.

To me, you are no longer nothing.

 

A starlight in the gloom…

A starlight in the gloom never shone,

For everyone thought it was forgone.

 

That starlight in the gloom was never seen,

For everyone forgot it had ever been.

 

Today I looked for that starlight in the gloom,

And hoped very soon, That I would see it too.

 

It never came and I fell disappointed,

So I closed my eyes and thought of those anointed.

 

Who led our pasts, and inspire our present,

And wondered if that was the lesson.

 

That I seek, or need or even pine,

Then I let past the time.

 

To see and to feel , perhaps to understand,

What it was to be Man.

 

So I closed my eyes once more,

Cast my eyes to the shore.

 

That washed aside and wore,

Then perhaps my soul saw or perhaps not.

 

That there was a starlight in the gloom,

That I did see soon.

 

For the darkness that all around us swirled,

Allowed for farsight to be earned.

 

In patience and strife,

That was the purpose in life.

 

To work and toil and tumble,

Only to realise after that last fumble.

 

That we, Man alone are,

Neither how much we suffer or fall, nor how far.

 

But the grace by which we stand,

And to whom we give our hand.

 

Time and Time again…

Tick tock, tick tock goes the clock,

When is it the right time?

Tick tock, tick tock does the clock,

What is it that will be mine?

Knock knock, knock knock,

Who is this I hear?

Knock knock, knock knock,

Why do I still feel this fear?

Drip drip, drip drip,

Falls the droplets of sweat.

Drip drip, drip drip,

How is it my eyes still remain wet?

Slowly, surely, comfortably,

I step on your path,

Dodging, stepping, running, falling,

To reach my home at last.

Breathing, inhaling, exhaling,

And in the end releasing,

Feeling, breaking, healing,

But in the end no more appeasing.

Once again, tick tock goes the clock

Yet another hard place, and a rock,

Won’t somebody give me the key to this lock?

No said he, who above me lives,

Why then, if I did that you would never learn!

But yes said he, who now next to me stands,

Be slow and steady, for here is my hand.

At the ocean with you

Standing alone, hand in hand.
Toes, feet filled in sand.
Warmth shared, heat given.
With you, I know I’ll never shiver.
First a smile, then a touch.
A hand intertwines, shares so much.
Floating sounds, bouncing waves.
After tonight we’ll never be the same.
Walk with me, hand in hand.
Body, toes and feet filled with sand.

A story I came across a while back

A young man had been to Wednesday Night Class of Quranic Studies.
The Mualim had shared about listening to Allah and obeying Allah through intuition.
The young man couldn’t help but wonder, ‘Does Allah still speak to people through intuition?’
After Lessons, he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message. Several different ones talked about how Allah had led them in different ways and that at the end you’ll know it was Allah(SWT) Who has directed you.
It was about ten o’clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, ‘Allah…If you still speak to people, speak to me. I will listen.
I will do my best to obey.’
As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk.
He shook his head and said out loud, ‘Allah is that you?’ He didn’t get a reply and started on toward home.
But again, the thought, buy a gallon of milk came into his head.
‘Okay, Allah, in case that is you, I will buy the milk.’ It didn’t seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk. He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.
As he passed Seventh Street , he again felt the urge, ‘Turn Down that street.’
This is crazy he thought, and drove on past the intersection.
Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street ..
At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh.
Half jokingly, he said out loud, ‘Okay, Allah, I will.’
He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi-commercial area of town. It wasn’t the best but it wasn’t the worst of neighborhoods either. The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed.
Again, he sensed something, ‘Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street.’ The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep. He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat..
‘Allah, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid.’ Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk.
Finally, he opened the door, ‘Okay Allah(SWT), if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for something, but if they don’t answer right away, I am out of here.’
He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man’s voice yelled out, ‘Who is it? What do you want?’ Then the door opened before the young man could get away.
The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt. He looked like he just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn’t seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep.
‘What is it?’
The young man thrust out the gallon of milk, ‘Here, I brought this to you.’
The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway.
Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.
The man began speaking and half crying, ‘We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn’t have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking Allah(SWT) to show me how to get some milk.’
His wife in the kitchen yelled out, ‘I ask him to send an Angel with some.
Are you an Angel?’
The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man’s hand. He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face.
He knew that Allah (SWT) still answers prayers..