Al-Ameen, a boy of sharp wit and keen mind, said to his two companions, Hisham and Amer:"Yesterday, my grandmother told me a most wondrous tale.
She spoke of the mountain lying east of our village, and of an abandoned house that rests upon its peak. From that house, on a certain day, there came forth an old man: his hair was white as snow, his beard long, flowing down nearly to his belly. His back was bent, and he leaned upon a thick staff of bamboo.
When he reached the outskirts of the village, the children gathered around him, shouting and jostling, until they led him into the very heart of the village, beside the ancient dwelling of Sheikh Abdul-Rahman.
The old man began asking about certain names and certain homes, and soon it became clear to the villagers that these were the names of their forefathers. Sheikh Abdul-Rahman pressed the stranger to be his guest, and the old man consented. He remained there for days, speaking little, withdrawing often into solitude, filling his hours with prayer and remembrance of God, and gazing silently at the faces of his visitors—his silence stirring wonder among all.
One day, as some visitors were present, Sheikh Abdul-Rahman asked him to tell his story. The old man, gentle of manner, agreed, and began to relate his tale. News of him spread swiftly throughout the village, and after the afternoon prayer men, women, and children alike would flock to the Sheikh's house, listening with deep attention to the words of the old man.
His story was this: that he had left the village in his boyhood, climbed that mountain, and entered the house upon its summit. Yet soon he lost his way inside. He searched for an exit, but none could he find. He wandered there throughout the days of his youth, then through the long years of his manhood, until old age overtook him. For eighty years he remained within, until at last God granted him deliverance, and he came forth from that house."
The tale of the old man continued for one hundred days, the people gathering after each afternoon prayer to listen in wonder. My grandmother, then but a child, was among those who heard him, and she cherished his words greatly.
Al-Ameen, recalling this, spoke to his companions of his desire to journey to the mountain and see that house for himself, for his grandmother's tales had only deepened his yearning. He invited Hisham and Amer to join him. Hisham accepted at once, but Amer hesitated.
Hisham then said to Al-Ameen:"We shall need many provisions for such a journey."
So the two agreed to prepare and fixed their departure for Thursday morning, though that day was still three days away. Yet Amer found no rest in those nights. Each evening, anxiety visited him, and he lay awake pondering the thought of being left behind by his friends.
At last, on the appointed day, Al-Ameen and Hisham met at a well outside the village, called al-Naddah. And there, to their joy, they found Amer awaiting them, knowing full well the place and the time.
Thus the three—Al-Ameen, Hisham, and Amer—set forth upon their journey toward the mountain.
And the mountain, though it lay far from the village, seemed already aware of what the three had resolved. They walked with firm steps, full of vigor and determination. Yet, once they had crossed beyond the village bounds, a strange thing occurred—though none of them perceived it.
The mountain itself began to move toward them, drawing near in silent mystery. The earth did not tremble, nor did the stones, sand, or scattered plants shift from their place. All remained as it was.
The three, meanwhile, rejoiced, marveling at the speed with which they seemed to approach their goal, proud of their strength and quickened pace. This delight urged them on, and soon they found themselves at the mountain's foot, gazing upon a clear path that wound upward to the summit.
All before them seemed easy, free of hardship, enticing them onward to adventure. Within the hour, the abandoned house stood before them. Its walls were worn, some stones crumbling, others collapsed, yet still it loomed high.
The three circled around it, finding nothing amiss. They shouted and called, their voices echoing back in clear response. Amused, they cried louder, delighting in the play of sound:
"Ha! Ha! Ha!""Ho! Ho! Ho!""Sham! Sham! Sham!"
Then, as boys will, they began casting stones at the walls, challenging one another to strike a protruding stone above the old entrance. They did not notice the door itself as it slowly gave way, opening just enough to allow a single man to pass. This happened when Hisham's stone struck the protruding rock. Yet the boys, absorbed in their shouts of triumph, did not see.
They sat then to rest, eating joyfully beneath a clear blue sky, where scattered clouds drifted in the gentle breeze. Around them lay wildflowers among the green grass, and birds alighted upon the earth, singing sweet melodies that filled the air with delight.
As they spoke, they mocked the tale of the old man, saying:"Perhaps it was but a fable he brought to the villagers. For here we find only beauty, though the house itself is ancient and broken."
Al-Ameen added, "And look—this door holds no mystery." He turned his gaze toward it, lowered his voice, and fell silent. Long he stared at the door, until at last he whispered:"Hisham…"
"What is it, Al-Ameen?" asked Hisham.
"Was this door not shut when we were throwing stones at the wall?"
Hisham replied, "I did not notice."But Amer said quickly, "It was as it is now—it did not change!"
Al-Ameen shook his head. "No—I was certain it was closed."
Their eyes met, full of doubt, fear, and silent questions. They spoke not, but the tale they had heard seemed to flash through their minds like a sudden lightning bolt.
Then Al-Ameen rose and stepped cautiously toward the door, his gaze sharp, his movements measured. His companions followed, their hearts weighed down with unease.
He reached the door, peered beyond, and placed his hand upon its ancient handle. He pushed gently, and it opened wide, creaking like the groan of a waterwheel.
Beyond lay a vast courtyard, roofed only by the sky, where nothing grew save patches of grass and scattered wildflowers.
The three stood upon the threshold, peering into the stillness of that forsaken dwelling.
Al-Ameen entered first, treading carefully, turning this way and that, until he reached the center. Around him were only ruined chambers, their walls fallen to decay. Nothing seemed strange, and so he drew nearer to them, while his friends lingered at the door, watching.
Suddenly he called to them with delight:"A nest! A bird's nest!"
The two hurried to him and together they beheld a wild bird, its plumage bright and radiant, resting upon two eggs. The bird gazed at them without fear.
They marveled at its beauty, and Al-Ameen urged them:"Do not harm it—let us only look."
Meanwhile, Hisham noticed ants crawling in long lines at his feet, carrying their burdens with great struggle toward a hidden dwelling near the courtyard wall. Al-Ameen and Amer joined him in watching the ants' patient labor, fascinated by their persistence and unity.
Yet within the ruined chamber where the ants disappeared, two sharp eyes glimmered in secret, fixed upon the three boys since their first step inside.
A hand, silent and unseen, reached out and touched a stone in the shadowed corner of that chamber.
And with the same quiet with which it had first opened, the great door behind them closed once more.
But the three, still absorbed in their wonder at the ants, did not notice. Their food and belongings remained outside, abandoned.
Hisham followed the ants step by step, his eyes fixed upon them, unaware of where his path was leading. Slowly, he drew nearer and nearer to the chamber…
Meanwhile, Al-Ameen and Amer were distracted, amusing themselves with the ants' labor. It occurred to Al-Ameen to place a few dry twigs upon their path, curious to see how they would force their way through. Amer joined him in this small diversion, and together they became so absorbed that they failed to notice their companion Hisham, whose fascination with the ants had led him farther along their trail—until, at last, he entered the chamber.
And all the while, a pair of sharp, watchful eyes followed his every step in silence.
Poor Hisham! His mother knew nothing of his venture to this place. He had told her nothing, nor sought her leave. What sorrow would pierce her heart if she knew the fate that awaited her only son, bereft of his father since the dawn of his childhood?
Amer straightened his back, weary from bending low to watch the ants. He twisted his body from side to side, as though readying himself for another round of idle sport. Yet his eyes fell suddenly upon the empty space where Hisham had been. He froze mid-stretch, and cried out:
"Hisham!"
No answer came. Al-Ameen sprang to his feet, alarmed, turning about swiftly and calling in haste:
"Hisham!"
Only the echo of their cries returned from the walls enclosing the courtyard. Desperate, Al-Ameen darted to and fro, searching frantically. Amer, on the other hand, rushed to the door, imagining Hisham had slipped outside.
But the weight of the truth struck him like a blow: the door was closed, sealed tight. His hands clawed at it in vain, for this was no ordinary door—it was fastened by some hidden device, impervious to his efforts.
He shouted the news to Al-Ameen, who still searched. The words fell upon his friend like a thunderclap. Both boys hurried together to the center of the courtyard, away from the looming walls. They gazed into each other's eyes, wide with fear, bewilderment, and unspoken questions.
Al-Ameen's thoughts raced: The opening of the door had not been a trick of his mind. His certainty when he had first questioned his friends was now confirmed by the cruel fact of its closing—and by Hisham's disappearance. Surely these were signs of events greater than they could grasp, secrets known only to God. And the tale of the old man seemed, at last, to bear the mark of truth.
"Amer," said Al-Ameen, his voice steady with resolve, "we must search for Hisham. Three are stronger than two, and he may even now be in dire need of our aid. We must think calmly, with care in every step. It comes to me now: let us follow his footprints, and see where they lead."
So they returned to the place where they had watched the ants, and together they traced the marks in the dust. The trail was clear, the prints leading toward the ants' hidden chamber. This gave them some small comfort, as though guiding their search aright. Amer's pace quickened in eagerness, and he pressed on until he reached the very chamber. Al-Ameen followed more slowly, scrutinizing every mark. And still those unseen eyes observed them.
But no sooner had Amer stepped inside than he recoiled in terror, his cry tearing the silence. He fled like a storm wind to the door, hammering upon it madly, seeking any means to break free.
Al-Ameen, startled by his companion's horror, rushed after him, his own heart seized with dread, though he knew not yet the cause.
"What did you see, Amer? Speak!" he urged, while beating upon the door himself.
Amer, gasping and trembling, struggled for words. At last he stammered:"As I was about to enter the chamber where the footprints ended, I saw—" He faltered.
"What did you see?" pressed Al-Ameen.
"Hisham's robe…"
"Did you see him?"
"No, not him—but I saw his robe and his shoes upon the ground, cast aside, as though—"
"As though what?"
"As though misfortune had befallen him…"
"Are you certain you did not see him with your own eyes?"
"I am certain. But his garments, scattered as they were, can mean nothing else!"
Al-Ameen's face grew pale. "Amer, your fear chills me, yet you have no proof. You saw only his clothing, not the boy himself. Perhaps it points to danger, yes—but perhaps not. We must see with our own eyes. Only then shall we know the truth."
"You mean to enter the chamber?" Amer whispered.
"To be sure."
"I cannot, Al-Ameen. Go alone…"
"And leave you here by yourself? No, Amer. Will you remain alone, trembling, while I venture forth? Consider—if I go alone, you are still left alone, and when night falls your fear will deepen. But if we go together, we may yet find Hisham, and then we shall be three once more, not two."
Amer wavered, torn between dread and duty. He could neither bring himself to step forward nor to stay behind.
At last, Al-Ameen turned toward the chamber and beckoned him. Resigned, Amer rose and followed, his heart heavy with fear. Al-Ameen began to sing aloud, his voice rising in a cheerful tune, striving to drive fear from his soul.
Step by step they drew near. Al-Ameen's song grew softer, faltering as they approached. Amer trailed a few paces behind, his courage not gathered for advancing but for flight at the first sign of peril.
The singing ceased altogether. Al-Ameen tiptoed forward, his eyes fixed upon the chamber. Amer's feet dragged in dread, his breath caught in his throat. Only a few steps now remained to the threshold…
Two steps remained when Al-Ameen halted, with 'Amer standing a few paces behind. Al-Ameen lingered, summoning his courage. Then, with utmost caution, he advanced the final steps until he stood at the threshold, peering into the chamber and scrutinizing the floor.
Indeed—there lay Hisham's cloak, and beside it, his shoes. Al-Ameen leaned forward slightly, his head slipping into the doorway. He saw the faint imprint of bare feet leading deeper inside, toward an opening at the far end of the room, just off to the side. There was nothing else—only that.
Al-Ameen called out:"Come closer, 'Amer."
'Amer approached hesitantly and stood at his side. He too saw the trail of Hisham's bare footprints leading toward the side passage. It seemed to both of them that Hisham had entered another chamber. 'Amer began speaking, echoing Al-Ameen's thoughts, when Al-Ameen suddenly gestured for silence. He tilted his ear toward the darkness. A faint sound reached them.
Al-Ameen sharpened his hearing."There… do you hear it? The trickling of water."
"Perhaps there is a spring within," he whispered, a thought flashing in his mind that might explain all.
"Maybe Hisham heard it, too. Perhaps he left his cloak and shoes here to go down and bathe."
With measured steps, Al-Ameen moved forward, his manner that of one probing the secrets of the unknown. The unseen gaze that had followed them did not relent.
He crossed into the inner chamber. 'Amer lingered by Hisham's discarded clothes in the outer room. Then it came—Al-Ameen's piercing cry, a scream that seemed to tear through the very walls:"Run, 'Amer! Run!"
At once, 'Amer flung himself away, throwing every ounce of strength into flight, fleeing to the open courtyard in frantic desperation. He became like a beast suddenly trapped in a snare, once free but now caged. He raced aimlessly, from wall to wall, circling the courtyard, darting in wild confusion.
He dashed to the heavy door, clawing for some way to wrench it open, searching for salvation. Strength he had never known within himself surged now in his arms. Yet his voice failed him; no cry came, only ragged gasps, for terror and exhaustion had drained him utterly. From time to time, he cast terrified glances toward the chamber, dreading what might emerge from its shadowed depths.
Night descended, drawing its veil across the world. Light departed, and with it, the comfort and reassurance it always brought. The darkness thickened, and 'Amer's eyes grew ever wider with dread, straining into the gloom. Still he ran, still he clawed, until his body betrayed him.
Fatigue crushed him at last; terror consumed him. His strength gave way, and he collapsed to the earth, sprawled upon the dust, surrendering to a fitful faint.
Thus he passed the night—lying upon the bare ground, between fear and exhaustion, beneath the cold cloak of darkness.