Written by: Fahd Abdullah

Peace be upon you and God’s mercy. In 2015, I experienced a story stranger than fiction. Today, I will share its astonishing details—ones I will never forget for the rest of my life. Since childhood, I had two close friends: Kamal and Yassin. Our friendship lasted for years and continues to this day. From a young age, we loved traveling and camping, embarking on many adventures and exploring various places. We camped in several natural areas. One day, we heard about a place called "The Cathedral" near Azilal in the Atlas Mountains. It was known for its untouched, breathtaking beauty and was visited only by a handful of mountain tourism enthusiasts. We decided to visit, unaware that we were about to experience some of the most difficult moments of our lives. We packed our bags and left our city on a rundown bus, old but sufficient to get us to our destination. The journey was long and exhausting, but our love for adventure made it all worthwhile. When we arrived at The Cathedral, it felt like heaven on earth: lush green mountains, towering trees, flowing streams and rivers, fresh air, and a cool breeze. Pure bliss! We searched for a spot to set up our tents, and it didn’t take long to find one. It was a quiet, secluded place, away from prying eyes, surrounded by the dense forest on all sides. As night fell, the temperature dropped, so we lit a fire and gathered around it. We placed a pot over the flames and began cooking chicken with onions and potatoes. The atmosphere was wonderful—we laughed and shared jokes. Then, suddenly, we heard rustling sounds coming from behind the trees. We fell silent and listened intently. Kamal grabbed a stick, ready to confront any danger. The sound grew closer and closer. Fear crept over me, and I could see concern on my friends’ faces as well. A black dog appeared, followed by an old man wearing a yellow turban. His beard and long hair, which reached his shoulders, were completely white. His back was hunched, and he looked well over a hundred years old. I gestured to Kamal to lower the stick—this was just an elderly man. The old man smiled and said, "I hope I didn’t startle you by passing through here." Trying to mask our unease, we replied, "Not at all, sir. No problem at all." The man introduced himself as Abdul Karim and explained that he lived nearby. Hearing our laughter echoing through the area, he decided to step out and see us. With slow, deliberate steps, he approached, leaning heavily on his cane. One of his eyes was completely white, without a pupil—he was partially blind, which explained his cautious gait. I felt sorry for him, as if he were my own grandfather. I took out a box of sweets and offered it to him. He accepted it with gratitude, thanking me and praying for me before slipping it into the pocket of his robe. Then, he sat near me, stretching his hands toward the fire for warmth. "Why, my sons, did you leave all the spots near the road, where people could see you, and come all the way here to this hidden place?" he asked. Yassin responded, "That’s exactly what we wanted! We wanted to escape the noise and the crowds, to relax and enjoy nature on our own." The old man stared into the fire and said, "The farther a place is from people, the closer it is to the inhabitants of the earth…"—without naming them explicitly. I asked, "Who do you mean, sir?" He replied, "The other beings who may see us while we cannot see them. They won’t harm us unless we cross our limits and trespass on their domain." I understood that he was referring to the jinn. Kamal scoffed, "But sir, we have traveled to many places—mountains, deserts, forests—and we have never encountered anything! No jinn has ever bothered us." Yassin added, "Yes, and besides, humans are stronger than jinn. That’s why they can’t harm us." A moment of silence followed as Abdul Karim stared at the fire. Then, he said, "No one is stronger than another except by God’s protection. And whoever oversteps his bounds only harms himself." Then, the old man stood up. Before leaving, he pulled something from his pocket and handed it to me. It was a folded piece of leather, like an ancient message from a bygone era. "Just as you gifted me sweets, I gift this to you. Keep it in your bag and do not neglect it," he said. He walked away with steady steps, then turned back and warned, "I advise you not to venture deeper into the forest. No matter what sounds you hear, do not turn toward them. As long as you stay here, you are safe." Then, Abdul Karim disappeared into the darkness, the black dog following behind him. I placed the leather piece inside my small bag, which I always carried. Kamal sneered, "That man must be senile! Warning us about jinn as if they have nothing better to do than chase after humans! What nonsense!" Yassin nodded in agreement. But I told them, "Maybe he’s right. He lives here and knows this place better than we do. We should be cautious." A heated debate broke out between us, but we eventually dropped the subject and returned to our cheerful conversation. We stayed up late, then finally went to sleep. The next morning, we packed our belongings and explored the area. It was a paradise beyond words—flowing valleys, meadows brimming with life and beauty. We had completely forgotten Abdul Karim’s warning. Driven by curiosity, we ventured deeper and deeper into the forest and decided to spend the night there. We found a suitable spot for camping. While Yassin and I prepared food, Kamal gathered firewood. The forest was eerily silent, the darkness thick between the towering trees. Then, suddenly, we heard it—music. It sounded like singing and the beating of drums, coming from somewhere deep in the forest. We froze, glancing at each other. "Where is that sound coming from?" I asked. It was rhythmic drumming, accompanied by men’s voices chanting in a strange, Berber-like melody—unlike anything we had ever heard. "Maybe there’s another group camping nearby," Yassin suggested. "But we spent the whole day exploring and didn’t see anyone," I replied skeptically. "Perhaps it’s a wedding," Kamal added. "No," Yassin countered. "There are no villages here, and we’re deep in the forest, far from its edges." Curiosity gripped us. We had to find out who was celebrating nearby. I adjusted my small bag on my back. Kamal grabbed his phone, Yassin his camera. We zipped up our tent and ventured into the darkness, following the sound of the singing and drumming. We thought it was a wedding in a nearby village—maybe we could join the feast and enjoy the festivities. Through the dense grass and trees, we pushed forward. But something strange happened. Every time we got closer to the sound, it moved farther away… Yet, we were determined to find the revelers Celebrating with Them After we had moved far from our campsite, we saw a fire burning in the distance, and the sound was coming from that direction. Then, we noticed people dancing around the fire, their singing and drumbeats loud and clear. But what caught my attention was that they were singing in an unfamiliar language—neither Arabic nor anything resembling Amazigh. As we got closer, I felt a chill run through my entire body, accompanied by an unexplainable feeling deep inside me. I stopped walking and signaled to my two friends to stop as well. I said to them, "There is something strange about this place, and even stranger is this party in the middle of the forest. Something is not right!" However, my friends ignored my warning, as curiosity had taken hold of them. But fear had taken hold of me. I told them, "We need to leave! We need to go back I Told Them: "There is something suspicious about this place, and even more suspicious is this party in the middle of the forest. Something is not normal!" My two friends ignored my warning, as curiosity had taken hold of them. But fear had taken hold of me, and I said to them: "We need to leave! We need to go back—" Kamal replied: "We're almost there, so why turn back after coming all this way?" Yassin agreed with Kamal: "I'm not going back, even if I have to stay alone!" Seeing their determination to move forward, I said: "If we must, then let's at least approach cautiously and find a spot where we can observe the celebration. If they seem safe and we see no harm from them, we'll join in. Otherwise, we retreat." Kamal and Yassin agreed with my suggestion. We climbed to a higher vantage point where we could overlook the gathering. The sound of drums and singing still echoed through the place. It seemed like a wedding, and the people looked like simple locals from the area. I noticed that most of them wore green clothing, while the bride and groom stood out in white attire. As we observed, Yassin turned to me and said: "What do you think now? Everything looks normal, and you're still afraid! That old man just scared you with nonsense!" Then Kamal said: "Come on, let's go down and join the celebration! They'll surely welcome us, and maybe we'll even have dinner with them!" I thought to myself, Maybe I did overreact. Then I told my friends, "Alright, let's go!" We walked downhill on a sloping path. I noticed that the sound of singing and drumming was gradually fading as we got closer—until suddenly, it stopped entirely. We reached the spot where we had just seen the people, but the shocking surprise awaiting us was that the place was now completely empty! Not a single soul remained, even though it had been crowded with dancing and celebrating people moments ago. Where did everyone go? I had no idea! Only the fire remained, still burning. Our shock was overwhelming. We stood there in bewilderment, looking at each other with confusion and worry. We had no explanation for what had happened, as if the earth had swallowed them whole! Moments later, a cold wind blew, sending chills through our bodies. The flames of the fire started to dwindle until they finally went out. Then, we heard footsteps approaching from the dense trees—heading toward us. At that moment, we remembered the warning of Sheikh Abdul Karim, which we had dismissed. We didn’t think twice—we turned and ran as fast as we could through the forest, heading back to our campsite. Our legs barely carried us from sheer terror. By the time we reached our tents, our hearts were pounding furiously. We sat there in shock, trying to comprehend what we had just witnessed. It felt like a terrifying nightmare. We added more wood to the dying fire near our tents and sat down to decide what to do. "Should we pack up and leave immediately, or wait until morning?" I told my friends: "The way out of the forest is dangerous and rough, especially at night. We could put ourselves in even greater danger!" Kamal asked, "Then what do we do?" I said, "We'll stay here for the night and leave with the sunrise." By daylight, we sat in silence, lost in thought. There was only one explanation for what had happened: We had trespassed into the land of the jinn, crossing the boundary between our worlds. Would this pass peacefully? We couldn’t sleep and remained huddled around the fire. Moments later, we started smelling a strong incense—an overpowering fragrance that only filled us with more fear. We looked around, searching for the source of the scent. "Where is this incense coming from in the middle of the forest?" we wondered aloud. Then, our ears were struck by the sound of drums—deep and echoing, shaking our hearts before our ears—accompanied by chants and songs identical to what we had heard at the jinn wedding. At that moment, we knew for certain: They were coming… coming for us! Fear paralyzed us—we couldn't stand or flee. Moments later, Yassin suddenly stood up, let out a horrifying scream, and collapsed to the ground, convulsing. Kamal and I rushed to him, trying to calm him down, but he was staring intensely at the dark, dense trees. He screamed, "He's coming for me! He wants to kill me!" When Kamal and I turned in the direction he pointed, Kamal gasped, then let out a terrified scream and bolted into the forest—Yassin following right behind him! Both of them ran as fast as they could. But I saw nothing. What did they see that I didn’t? Had they lost their minds? I chased after them, calling out, "Stop! There's nothing there!" But they wouldn’t stop or look back. They only ran faster until they disappeared into the darkness. I couldn’t catch up to them. So, I decided to return to our tents—surely, Kamal and Yassin would come back once they calmed down. As I reached our camp, the scent of incense had vanished, the sounds had faded, and silence returned. I sat by the fire, asking myself: What did my friends see that terrified them so much? And why didn’t I see anything? An hour passed, but my friends did not return. I started to worry that something bad had happened to them. Then, I heard footsteps approaching. I thought, They’re finally coming back! I focused my eyes in the direction of the sound. But instead of my friends… someone unexpected appeared. It was Sheikh Abdul Karim, walking with his staff, his loyal dog by his side. He fixed me with a deep gaze from his one good eye. Past Midnight… The forest was engulfed in pitch darkness. We had walked for a long distance until we arrived at an old mud house, built in a traditional style. This was the home of Sheikh Abdul Karim and his wife, Hajjah Dhahabiya. Her name, Dhahabiya (meaning "golden"), was one of those old names that had faded over time, though some grandmothers in the kingdom still carried it. She welcomed us warmly and served us a delicious soup with dates. But we could barely eat, still shaken from our ordeal. Sheikh Abdul Karim tried to ease our fears: "You are not the first to experience this. Many before you have faced the same, or worse." He added that he always warned strangers not to venture too deep into the forest, but most ignored his advice—just as we had. Hajjah Dhahabiya told us that her husband had brought many people to this house before—people who had been possessed by the jinn of the forest—and treated them. The night passed peacefully in Sheikh Abdul Karim’s home. The next morning, he led us to a small, simple, yet clean room filled with various herbs—some familiar, most unknown. We all entered, and soon Hajjah Dhahabiya followed, carrying a small leather pouch of water. Sheikh Abdul Karim took it from her, added herbs and oils, then began reciting the Quran over it. His voice was melodic and powerful. Then, he poured the blessed water into cups and handed them to Kamal and Yassin to drink. As he continued reciting and performing ruqyah on them, their expressions changed. Their faces contorted with anger. They glared at the sheikh with hostility and hatred. Then, a voice—inhuman—spoke from them: "We are the jinn of the forest! We do not forgive those who trespass upon our land unless they suffer our wrath. And you know this well!" The sheikh ignored the jinn's threats and continued the recitation, raising his voice. Hajjah Dhahabiya entered with fragrant incense, circling the room while the jinn shrieked in fury, vowing revenge. But the sheikh remained steadfast. "You know these young men did not enter your land with ill intent. They found themselves among you by accident. Why possess them?" The jinn replied, "A judgment has been passed! They must suffer!" The sheikh shouted, "No! Either leave willingly, or be burned!" Silence. Then, the jinn finally screamed: "Stop! We will leave!" And with that, the nightmare ended. Praise be to Allah… we had survived.