Gather around the campfire, #MuslimGirlClique, as we countdown to Halloween with the spookiest stories our girl gang has to offer! Check back on the daily to jump in fright to a new story every day…
In our neat little complex of townhomes in the eastern city of Al-Khobar, Saudi Arabia, there was a nondescript little house, far in the recesses of the compound.
Nestled amongst the row of homes emanating a warm glow of light, this house sat, for the most part, in total darkness. It remained occupied, from time to time. But it was never inhabited for very long, a fact that struck the residents of the compound as fairly strange. Our little complex was an oasis!
Nevertheless, we moved past this little detail. What did we care? It was just a coincidence, right? The constant parade of families that lived there never stayed long enough for us, the kids of this happy little oasis, to ring the doorbell and welcome them to the neighborhood. So we went on with our lives; the continual flutter of activity associated with frantic games tag and hopscotch preoccupying our minds, day in, and day out.
We watched in utter confusion as the car raced away, with the little house on the corner looming in the background, like a shadowy beast, ready to send all who dare to enter, fleeing in fright. tweet
Until one day, the lights of that little house on the corner switched on, and stayed on for longer than ever before. “More friends for us!” chorused the children of the compound. And we were correct. The house on the corner, now inhabited by a welcoming family with two kids, became a beacon of friendliness to us.
Alas, it wasn’t meant to last. One blustery autumn day, the motley crew of compound kids, finally free for the day from the binds of homework, thundered towards the little house on the corner, only to find something we hadn’t expected: the couple who had recently moved in, wild-eyed, frantically loading a car with their earthly possessions. Their two children, already buckled into the car, had their noses pressed up against the car window, mouthing a silent goodbye.
We watched in utter confusion as the car raced away, with the little house on the corner looming in the background, like a shadowy beast, ready to send all who dare to enter, fleeing in fright.
Years passed before we ever received an explanation for the constant parade of families, in and out of the little house on the corner. As it turns out, each and every family who ever lived in that little house on the corner shared a common experience of the paranormal variety. Around Fajr time, every single day, each resident of the house would awaken to the uncomfortable feeling of pressure on their chests. It was almost as though someone was sitting, cross-legged, on their bodies. As the days progressed, the level of pressure tended to increase, steadily but surely, from mild discomfort, to total suffocation. Until one day, the feeling would be entirely unbearable.
Whether the presence in that nondescript little house on the corner was insisting on its residents rising for morning prayers, or whether the intention was more sinister, we shall never know.
For that little house on the corner was never to see occupants again.
Editor’s note: If you have a spooky story you’d like to share with us, email us at firstname.lastname@example.org, and we may just feature you!