A prayer is a lonely call

I read the first few paragraphs and scrolled back up to look at the photo. This is written by a girl, so why is the photo of a boy? I ignored my confusion and finished the story, and then I realise… I’ve been tricked! In a good way, of course. Because when a writer can pull you into the story, make you feel like the character is a real person, and make you empathise with the character, then that’s one hell of a good writer!😀

This struck a chord with me. I’ve been that girl who somehow always felt she could never satisfy her mother. I’ve been that girl whose parents hurt her. I’ve been that girl who struggles with acne (and still do, nearing thirty, though its effect is more of annoying me rather than destroying my self-esteem). And to have a male writer ‘trick’ me like this… that’s some great talent he has!

Love, InshAllah

Eds. Note: We’re featuring the stories and perspectives of Muslim youth between the ages of 18-25 this month! Today’s feature is our first short story.

Tune in on Twitter to join the #MYRising conversations and check out our sister sites Muslimah MontageComing of Faith and Muslim ARC for more #MuslimYouthRising features.InstagramCapture_85d812f9-c92a-4829-9ac2-c2b37e7ae141_jpg[1]

I used to write poetry. Don’t worry, I am better now.

During those days of angst, my life consisted of Tumblr posts, Instagram, little pastel graphics I’d make that were nothing really (but got quite a few likes), quirky romance movies with oddball characters, and guilty pictures of actors on my iPod touch that I begged my parents to buy for me. And of course, poetry. My secret was Pablo Neruda:

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”

Ah, how my heart flutters. Of course…

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