-=May be You are the Next ! Are You Ready [story]=-

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-=May be You are the Next ! Are You Ready [story]=-

Post by *LosT* on Thu Sep 02, 2010 9:20 pm

Assalam o alaikum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuhu.JazakALLAH Khair for reading such a touchy story..

It was Halloween night. I made plans with my friends Omar and
Malik to go watch SAW 3 at a nearby theatre in Santa Monica,
California. We were running late and I realized that I had not prayed
Isha but I didnt say anything because I did not want to upset the mood.
"Ill just pray afterwards," I told myself.
only lived 26 years. My 27th birthday was exactly two weeks away. I
always imagined I would live long. At least until age 60. It just
wasn't imaginable that I would have such a sudden, unexpected death. I
graduated from the University of Southern California three years
earlier with a degree that means absolutely nothing right now. Shortly
after, I landed a job as the marketing director of a major clothing
company. Aside from the usual life problems, I was living a normal
life. My girlfriend of 4 years was starting to pressure
me into us getting a place together. I knew I wasn't supposed to have a
girlfriend in the first place but I enjoyed her company and
friendship. I wasn't ready to give that up. I used to always tell
myself that eventually I would marry her. Plus, what would these few
years of living a sinful life mean by the time I got older? My
job, girlfriend and life-friends took up the majority of my time. It
seemed I never had time to pray. I hardly even had time to sit down
and eat. Offering prayer was always something that irritated me. I did
give an effort to keep up on my prayers but for the last two years of
my life I gave up. I pretty much stopped praying altogether. I
never made it home in time to pray that night. SAW 3 was a walk
through the rose garden compared to what I was about to experience. I
was doing 80 on the route 10 freeway. At 12 midnight, 80mph is not
considered speeding. Omar flipped through FM radio stations searching
for the song he liked. Malik had fallen asleep in the back seat. I
began to doze off too. I used to hate when that happened. I shook out
of what seemed like a 10 second snooze. I tried to keep my eyes open.
But again I dozed off. Omar screamed, "HEY!" It was too
late. The car struck the center divider and spun back into the flow of
traffic. An on coming car hit my door. That car was also hit by
another vehicle. We finally came to a halt somewhere in the middle of
the freeway, a hundred yards from the spot of the collision. I didn't
feel any pain. I was just dizzy. I heard Omar and Malik moaning as
good civilians tried pulling us from the wreck. I wasn't
rescued until the fire fighters arrived. It was quite a task
recovering my battered body from my totalled car. Breathing became
difficult. The fire fighters huddled around me and frantically applied
device after device. "He's not gonna make it," I heard one of them
say. I'm not gonna make it? How? I didn't feel like I was dying. I
felt nothing. My heart started pounding. I was soaked in sweat and
blood. I saw Malik standing over the top of me with tears in his eyes.
"Don't quit on me", he told me. At that time I knew it was over. I
started to cry. The fire fighters moved him away as they
made last attempts to revive me. I died. An angel came to me and
removed my soul. I watched him fly away with it in disbelief. "How
could you? I'm not even 27," I pleaded. "It's time," he told me and
left... Two minutes later they pulled a white sheet over
me. Omar and Malik, apparently doing better than me, pulled the sheet
back to look at me one last time. They cried their eyeballs out. I
had known them ever since I was 13 years old and had never seen either
one cry. It was a depressing sight. The ride to the
morgue, until then, was the worst experience I ever had. I was alone.
It was dark and cold. I missed my mom. I missed my brother. I missed
my sister. I wished I had spent that last night with my family instead
of with Omar and Malik. I worried what my mother was going to do when
she saw me in this state. I was ugly. When we finally arrived, I was
placed in another cold room with dozens of other dead people. I
missed my family so much. Every so often a family came in to view
their dead. I always thought it was my family but it wasn't. Hour
after hour passed. No mom. No dad. I started to cry again. Then one
odd hour I recognized voices. My father walked in with my mother in
his arms. His face was worn from stress. Hers wet with tears. They
just stared into my eyes and cried. I stared back. I wanted to tell
them I loved them. I couldn't. I wanted to hug them. I couldn't. Mom
stroked my bloodied hair and kissed my forehead. Dad held her up from
collapsing. He slowly pulled her away. I was to be
buried the next day. When my parents left, it hit me. I never made
Isha prayer! My heart jumped out my chest. I owed Allah a prayer and
failed to deliver it to Him. I had hundreds of missed prayers over the
past two years. Now I was about to face Him. I felt powerless. For
those of youwho have never experienced guilt at death, there is
not a worldly feeling that amounts to it. It is guilt and sorrow at
another level. I tried getting up to make Isha prayer but I couldn't
move. It was over. I had no second chance. Then I began
to think back. I never knew my memory was so good. I had more than
enough time to ponder as I was awaiting my burial. I literally remember
every single prayer I missed and reasons why I missed them. Most were
laziness, procrastination and neglectfulness. I knew I was in trouble.
I wished they would take longer to bury me. I failed! I failed! My
girlfriend paid me a visit. She was a devil. When I was alive I saw
her as a pretty angel. My pretty angel who loved me and would do
anything to make me happy. If I had the ability, I would have cursed
her and demanded her to leave the morgue. She put her hand on my
forehead. I allowed her to do that for the past four years. Now that I
opposed to it, I could do nothing about it. The devil cried for hours
at my side. She just would not leave. I felt cheated. I felt like she
pulled a joke on me for the past couple of years of my life. I hated
this devil! She was ugly! She smelled horrible! She finally left... As
she walked out the door my heart was filled with fear and anxiety. The
funeral was simple. My body was washed. I didn't seem to care that my
naked body was exposed. My worries far surpassed my desire to be
modest. I was wrapped in three white sheets. About 300 people attended
my funeral. I was saddened not to see my mom at the funeral. I wished
she came to see me one last time before they put me in the ground. I
never knew so many people cared about me. Many just stared at the
tightly wrapped figure in disbelief. Others cried and cried some more. The
mass prayed for me. Thousands of individual prayers were made. They
asked Allah to have mercy on me. They asked Him to forgive me. I wanted
to pray for myself but I couldn't speak. I was helpless. I was
carried to the hole in the middle of the barren desert. The people
followed. It seemed like slow motion. I didn't want to go. If I had 24
bonus hours I would pray non-stop. They lowered me into the ground.
The anticipation was eating away at me. I had surely failed life. I
thought back on everything I had worked so hard to accomplish. I
earned a college degree. I had a well paying job. I spent hours and
hours in the gym ever since I was 16 years old developing my body. I
had a pretty girlfriend who loved me. In that life, that was a badge
of honor. But as they were lowering me into this grave, which seemed
like it took forever, I realized I couldn't use any ofthose
"accomplishments". If only I had been that dedicated to praying five
times daily, I would have been at peace right now. Instead I am a
nervous wreck beyond anything you all can comprehend. Dirt
fell in my hole. Darkness overcame my new home. The last shovels of
sand filled the grave. Everyone sadly walked away. The graveyard
started to empty. Family by family. Mine was the last to leave. I could
hear their footsteps as they walked away. By nightfall it was just
me. All alone. My wrapping was soaked in sweat. I nervously awaited
the angels to come and question me. They finally did. My
final judgment has not been reached yet. I am now waiting for
judgment day. Still lying here, alone, as day comes and night falls.
Soon I will meet Allah Himself and He will decide whether He will
forgive me or not. I can only lay here, wait and hope The All
Forgiving, The Most Merciful forgives me and does not punish me. I
hope. That is all I have right now. Hope. <blockquote>THIS

Female Virgo Number of posts : 1613
Age : 27
Reputation : 2
Registration date : 2010-07-04

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