Whispers of the Mist
One rainy weekend morning, the whole town was cold and dewy, and a strange sense of gloom settled upon our little village. As usual, I woke up early, nearly before dawn, but there was a very uneasy feeling in my chest; a feeling that troubled me throughout my day. Forget about it, I told myself, and so I ran a two-mile lap on the treadmill and made my family a splendid breakfast of pancakes and my mom's best smoothie. After that, I sat down, jotting a Ghouraiby recipe in my journal, when I got a call from my soon-to-be mother-in-law. When I answered, her voice was trembling. Adding to my panic, I could clearly hear the screeching screams of women and ambulances behind her; an enormous pit formed in my stomach. Quickly, I said, "Hello, yes, my Aunty," ; I was silently praying that nothing had happened to my very dear fiancè. Trying to calm herself down, she took a deep breath behind the phone and said, "Asher was deeply wounded and is currently unconscious in The Khadraa hospital. Sweetie, don't panic, everything will be totally fine." Consoling her, even though I swear I was the one who needed consoling, I said, "It is okay, Aunty, I will be coming in half an hour with my brother. Do you need anything?" She said no, and I hung up, fighting back a raging waterfall of tears. I felt that my whole world was shaken. I wanted to break down and sob, but he was more important; he was more important than I, and my sobbing. So I took a deep, painful breath and called out to my brother.
The house was filled with silence, a deep, deep pain was filling my heart; for some reason, I could hear the rain outside much louder, but it wasn’t eerie, it was comforting. My chest was pounding very, very hard; it felt like exploding, and every second felt like an eternity. I looked outside the window in front of me, and it was navy colored with beautiful twinkle lights lined all around the windowsill. The rain was pouring warmly outside, not in a gush, but in calm, slow mist. After what seemed like forever, my brother finally answered, in his lazy what do you want attitude. “Come over here, it’s very urgent, please”, I said in a cautious tone, and with that, my brother (Evander) felt the urgency in my voice and came sluggishly over. “Fine…what do you want?” he said with an arrogant flip of his shoulder-length, dark brown hair. I looked directly at his eyes and said, “Listen, Asher is wounded, he is currently in the hospital, and I want you to take me there.” He looked at me in complete shock, in horror, with a sense of disbelief. Asher has been his friend for a very long time; he, too, cared about him very much, but still, not more than I did. “Ok, get dressed, I’ll be out in five seconds, you either be ready before then or I will leave you!” He said. I nodded, then dressed quickly in my abaya and khimar, and last, I put on my niqab. I was ready and in the car waiting before him. After five more minutes, he came hurrying while zipping up his jacket, looking pretty messed up, one hand zipping his jacket and the other starting the car. We recited the (Riding prayer, Ruqoob Dua) and he pressed his foot onto the accelerator.
