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Dua E Mustajaab / Dua E Mustajaab

 

Al hakimi 53 is a Dawoodi Bohra Blog. Here you will find all kind of Dua,Surah,Naat,Madeh,Maraasiy in Video & Audio Formats

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Bedtime is meant to be a cheerful event for a tired child; on behalf of me it had been terrifying. While some children might complain about being put to bed before they need finished watching a movie or playing their favourite computer game , once I was a toddler , already dark was something to really fear. Somewhere within the back of my mind it still is.

As someone who is trained within the sciences, I cannot prove that what happened to me was objectively real, but I can swear that what I experienced was genuine horror. A fear which in my life, I’m glad to mention , has never been equaled. i will be able to relate it to you all now as best I can, make of it what you'll , but I’ll be glad to only catch on off of my chest.

I can’t remember exactly when it started, but my apprehension towards falling asleep appeared to correspond with my being moved into an area of my very own . i used to be 8 years old at the time and until then I had shared an area , quite happily, with my older brother. As is perfectly understandable for a boy 5 years my senior, my brother eventually wished for an area of his own and as a result, i used to be given the space at the rear of the house.

It was alittle , narrow, yet oddly elongated room, large enough for a bed and a few of chest of drawers, but not much else. I couldn’t really complain because, even at that age, I understood that we didn't have an outsized house and that i had no real cause to be disappointed, as my family was both loving and caring. it had been a cheerful childhood, during the day.

A solitary window looked out onto our back garden, nothing out of the standard , but even during the day, the sunshine which crept into that room seemed almost hesitant.

As my brother was given a replacement bed, wont to be"> i used to be given the bunk air beds which we used to share. While i used to be upset about sleeping on my very own , i used to be excited at the thought of having the ability to sleep within the top bunk, which seemed much more adventurous to me.

From the very first night, I remember a wierd feeling of unease creeping slowly from the rear of my mind. I lay on the highest bunk, staring down at my action figures and cars strewn across the green-blue carpet. As imaginary battles and adventures happened between the toys on the ground , I couldn’t help but feel that my eyes were being slowly drawn towards rock bottom bunk, as if something was occupation the corner of my eye. Something which didn't wish to be seen.

The bunk was empty, impeccably made with a navy blanket tucked in neatly, partially covering two rather bland white pillows. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, i used to be a toddler , and therefore the noise slipping under my door from my parent’s television bathed me during a warm sense of safety and well-being.

I fell asleep.

When you awaken from a deep sleep to something moving or stirring, it can take a couple of moments for you to really understand what's happening. The fog of sleep hangs over your eyes and ears even when lucid.

Something was moving, there was little question that .

At first, I wasn’t sure what it had been . Everything was dark, almost coal black , but there was enough light creeping in from outside to stipulate that narrowly suffocating room. Two thoughts appeared in my mind almost simultaneously. the primary was that my parents were in bed because the remainder of the house lay both darkly and silence. The reconsideration turned to the noise. A noise which had obviously woken me.

As the last cobwebs of sleep withered from my mind, the noise took on a more familiar form. Sometimes the only of sounds are often the foremost unnerving, a chilly wind whistling through a tree outside, a neighbor’s footsteps uncomfortably close, or, during this case, the straightforward sound of bed sheets rustling within the dark.

That was it; bed sheets rustling within the dark as if some disturbed sleeper was attempting to urge only too comfortable within the bottom bunk. I lay there in disbelief thinking that the noise was either my imagination, or perhaps just my pet cat finding somewhere comfortable to spend the night. it had been then that I noticed my door, shut because it had been as I’d fallen asleep.

Perhaps my mum had checked in on me and therefore the cat had sneaked into my room then.

Yes, that has got to are it. I turned to face the wall, closing my eyes within the vain hope that I could fall back to sleep. As I moved, the rustling noise from underneath me ceased. i assumed that i need to have disturbed my cat, but quickly i noticed that the visitor within the bottom bunk was much less mundane than my pet trying to sleep, and far more sinister.

As if alerted to, and disgruntled by, my presence, the disturbed sleeper began to toss and switch violently, sort of a child having a tantrum in their bed. I could hear the sheets twist and switch with increasing ferocity. Fear then gripped me, not just like the subtle sense of unease I had experienced earlier, but now potent and terrifying. My heart raced as my eyes panicked, scanning the just about impenetrable darkness.

I let loose a cry.

As most young boys do, I instinctively shouted on my mother. I could hear something stir on the opposite side of the house, but as i started to breathe a sigh of relief that my parents were coming to save lots of me, the bunk beds suddenly began to shake violently as if gripped by an earthquake, scraping against the wall. I could hear the sheets below me thrashing around as if suffering from malice. I didn't want to leap right down to safety as I feared the thing within the bottom bunk would reach out and grab me, pulling me into the darkness, so I stayed there, white knuckles clenching my very own blanket sort of a shroud of protection. The wait appeared like an eternity.

The door finally, and thankfully, burst open, and that i lay bathed in light while rock bottom bunk, the resting place of my unwanted visitor, lay empty and peaceful.

I cried and my mother consoled me. Tears of fear, followed by relief, streamed down my face. Yet, through all of the horror and relief, I didn't tell her why i used to be so upset. I cannot explain it, but it had been as if whatever had been therein bunk would return if I however very much like spoke of it, or uttered one syllable of its existence. Whether that was the reality , I don't know, but as a toddler I felt as if that unseen menace remained close, listening.

My mother lay within the empty bunk, promising to remain there until morning. Eventually my anxiety diminished, tiredness pushed me back towards sleep, but I remained restless, waking several times momentarily to the sound of rustling bed sheets.