When I was two years old, I was still studying at university. I have a younger brother, Mustafa, who is three years younger than me. We lived a simple life, like most families, and I had a grandmother who lived alone in a village far from our city. My brother and I rarely visited her, but my mother would go to visit her from time to time, at least once a month. My grandmother refused our visits because she had fallen ill and grown old, and she no longer wanted to leave her old home. One day, after returning from college, I entered the house and found my mother upset and my father sitting beside her, looking confused. I asked him, "What’s going on?" but neither of them answered. I went to the room I shared with my brother Mustafa and asked him, "What’s happening?" Mustafa sighed and said, "We don’t know, but Mom has been trying to call Grandma for the last two days, and she hasn’t answered. This is unusual for Grandma because she always carries her phone with her." I asked Mustafa, "Have you called any of her neighbors to check on her?" He replied, "Yes, we called one of the neighbors, and he went to check her house. He knocked on the door, but she didn’t answer, and he couldn’t get in." At that moment, my father called us. We left our room and went to the hallway. I found my mother crying. I looked at her with pity, unsure of what to say. Then my father said, "Get ready, we’re all going to the village. I’ll drop you off there, but I won’t stay long. I have work to do and need to come back. You will stay there with your mother to check on your grandmother, and I’ll come back to get you in a few days, assuming everything is fine. Come on, what are you waiting for? Pack what you need for the trip." It was about five in the afternoon, and my father planned to drop us off and return the same night to resume his work the next day. My brother Mustafa was complaining about the trip, and he said, "Why don’t we both go? Isn’t it enough for you to go with Mom?" I replied, "What kind of thinking is that, man? Can’t you wait in difficult situations? We’re going to check on Grandma and accompany Mom. It will only be a few days, and we’ll be back." Mustafa continued to grumble, and I added, "We should both go. You know Grandma lives in a secluded house in a village even more isolated and remote." He replied, annoyed, "What am I supposed to do?" I smiled and said, "You’ll keep me company, and you’ll keep yourself company. Isn’t that enough?" Then I urged him, "Come on, hurry up and pack your bag. Dad will be upset if we make him late." We quickly packed our clothes. I took some books and a small Quran to read there, as I didn’t have a phone at that time. The village where my grandmother lived was located between towering mountains, so much so that the sun only reached it at midday. I remember when I used to visit her, the sight of the village perched on the mountainside, surrounded by those mountains on all sides, was both awe-inspiring and eerie. Now, we were on our way there, and we would likely arrive at night. Worse still, my grandmother’s house wasn’t in the middle of the village; we had to pass through a rugged path, a narrow slope, and a forested area, where scattered, very old village houses could be found. My grandmother’s house was the farthest. During the journey, my mother kept praying, her anxiety clear. The distance between the city and the village was about 100 kilometers, but the road was long because of its roughness, darkness, and narrowness in some places. After sunset, we were nearing our destination. We noticed cars coming from the opposite direction flashing their lights at us. My father wondered, "Why are they signaling us?" They must be warning us about something ahead. Suddenly, my father noticed that the road was blocked by many rocks. "Did these fall from the mountain? Maybe," he thought. My father slowed down and then stopped. My mother said, "You need to get out with the kids and move these rocks so we can pass." My father responded quietly, "We can’t continue on this road; we have to go back." My mother was surprised, but my father turned the car around and then was shocked to see four masked men standing in front of him. We were all stunned, and I nervously asked, "Who are these people? What do they want from us?" My father decided to act boldly and not care about them, but they quickly threw a net full of nails in front of the car, forcing my father to stop. One of the men approached the car and said to my father, "Do you want to leave before we get to know you and you get to know us?" My father smiled and placed his hand beside his seat. Yes, my father had a weapon with him due to his job, and he was ready to use it if necessary. At that moment, another masked man came forward and said to my father, "We understand you’re a family traveling. We won’t hurt you. We just want you to give us money or anything valuable you’re carrying." My father replied, "Yes, but if I give you something now, do I have to give you again when I return? Am I supposed to pay you twice?" One of them asked, "When do you plan to return?" My father said, "Tonight. I’ll drop off my wife and children, then come back." The roadblocker was puzzled and said, "But why? You still have a long way to go to the nearest town." At that moment, I said, "We came to visit my grandmother. She lives in a village not far from here." The roadblocker asked, "Are you from the area?" My mother was crying then, and the man said, "We won’t harm you, don’t worry, Aunt." She replied, "I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid for my mother. I need to go see her." The roadblocker responded, "I apologize, Aunt, but who is your mother?" She wiped her tears and said, "My mother is so-and-so, daughter of so-and-so." At that moment, the man stepped back and said, "Please forgive us for our ignorance." We did not recognize you. We wish you had said that from the beginning. Your mother is a good, blessed woman; we know her well. Then the leader of the thieves said to his companions: "Move these stones so that 'Mar' (our people) may pass." He then said to my father: "If you need anything, we are at your service, and once again, we apologize and hope for your forgiveness." We later learned that these thieves were four brothers from the village, who were known for robbing travelers. May Allah guide them. They knew my grandmother very well, and after they moved the stones blocking the road, my father walked beside them. One of them said to him: "I hope you are reassured about the old lady's health." My father, without looking at him, replied: "Insha'Allah, Insha'Allah." As we continued on our way, I thought to myself: "What is this beginning? I ask Allah for safety in what is to come." We reached the village just before 9 o'clock. Some shops were still open, and the road became steeper. We arrived in front of the house, and there was an odd feeling weighing on all our hearts. But the strange part was that as soon as we got out of the car, the door to the house opened, and my grandmother came out. My mother ran towards her, crying. My grandmother seemed surprised, and my father greeted her. Then we greeted her and asked her: "Where is your phone, grandmother? Why haven’t you answered our calls?" At that moment, my father was determined to leave; he didn’t even want to go inside to rest after the long journey. He said to me: "In two or three days, I will come to pick you up. Take care of yourselves and your mother and grandmother, and thank Allah that I have reassured myself about her. That is the most important thing." My father spoke to me, and I was looking at my grandmother at that moment. She seemed different: quiet, not as welcoming as usual, and she didn’t greet us as she normally would. It seemed something important was on her mind. But why wasn’t she answering my mother’s calls? Where was her small phone? And even if the phone was lost, why didn’t she open the door when the neighbors knocked? Something wasn’t right about the whole situation. I noticed an old man sitting in front of his house, opposite my grandmother’s house. He was staring at us with his fixed gaze, not removing his eyes from us. Doesn’t this man feel ashamed? Doesn’t he have anything else to do but watch others? When I was about to enter my grandmother’s house, I was carrying the books I had brought with me, along with her small Quran. My grandmother noticed this and stopped me, saying: "My son, it would be better if you put those books back in your father’s car." I asked her: "Why, grandmother? I don’t understand." She said: "Put those books back now. Give them to your father before he leaves. Don’t bring them into the house. Listen to what I say." I replied, astonished: "As you wish, grandmother." I returned the books to the car. My father asked me: "Don’t you want to read while you’re sitting here?" I said: "Yes, but my grandmother asked me not to bring these books in. It seems she wants me to focus on something else." I greeted my father and headed towards the house. I turned around, and that old man was still sitting there, staring at us with his suspicious gaze. I entered the house and found my mother asking my grandmother: "Why didn’t you answer us? You scared us." My grandmother replied: "She is tired and doesn’t feel like talking." I noticed how cold my grandmother was and how indifferent she seemed to us. Even my mother felt that. Then I heard my grandmother say: "What brought you here?" I said: "We were worried about you. We were very concerned." She replied with conditions: "Worried about me? And who are you, my son?" I kept thinking: "Has my grandmother started losing her memory?" My mother said: "Come on, Abdelkader, take your brother and go to the other room. Let me stay with your grandmother for a little while." We went into the room, and then Mustafa asked me: "Did you notice how the house looks excessively neat? All the mattresses and blankets are piled up in one corner of the room." I said while spreading the bedding and arranging the pillows: "But the strangest thing is my grandmother. Her behavior has changed a lot." He said to me: "It’s the signs of aging. Don’t forget, she’s reached a very old age." I said: "Did you forget the big Quran she used to read from in the living room? And the prayer beads that never left her hand?" He said: "Maybe she’s reading and praying in her room." He laughed and said: "I’m starving! Will mom prepare us dinner?" At that moment, my mother called me, so I hurried out and found her in the kitchen. She said to me: "There’s nothing to make for dinner. Go to one of the shops in the village and buy what I need if you want dinner." My mother gave me a paper with all the items written on it and said: "I don’t know how my mother was living. There’s nothing in her house that’s fit to eat." I said to my mother: "Okay, I’ll go, even though I’m extremely tired from the long journey. And now I have to walk all that distance to the village. The road is rough, but I’ll go alone. Mustafa complains too much and won’t be of any help." As I was about to leave, I asked my grandmother: "Do you want me to bring anything for you, grandmother?" She gestured with her hand, silently indicating that she didn’t want anything. I left the house, and that man was still sitting in the same place, staring at me with the same look. He was sitting in the dark, and even his house, although the door was open, was dark and had no light. I walked briskly past him, thinking, I don’t remember ever seeing this man before. When I used to visit my grandmother, this house was always closed. I passed through a sort of forest with many short trees, then climbed a steep hill, at the top of which was the village’s small mosque. Afterward, there was a downhill path leading toward the village. This was the shortcut, and there was another road where cars passed, but it was farther. I took what I needed from the shopkeeper, then passed by the vegetable seller, who greeted me but was a bit curious. He started asking me: "Who are you? Where did you come from?" I told him: "I’m the son of [Name]." He replied happily: "Yes, yes, I know which house you’re from. How is your grandmother now? I heard she hasn’t been leaving the house." I said: "Alhamdulillah, she’s fine." He said: "We feared she might have passed away. She’s dear to us, but we didn’t want to take responsibility for opening the door when her family wasn’t around. Your grandmother is a blessed and kind woman, and one of the old villagers who has lived here for ages." I thought to myself: "This man talks too much." I asked him about the man who lives in the house opposite my grandmother’s. I said: "I used to visit here, but I never saw anyone living there." The vegetable seller, looking a bit angry, replied: "That nasty man, no one likes him here. A good family used to live there, but they left a long time ago. A few months ago, this man came and said he inherited the house from the owners." I asked: "Did he prove this?" He replied: "He said he was the uncle of the deceased house owner, and he is the rightful heir. Since no one has come to claim the house, it’s most likely that this old, unpleasant man inherited it. But he’s a strange character, never speaks to anyone, and we’ve never seen him in the mosque or the market. He’s a mysterious man, in every sense of the word." I said: "Anyway, I’ll leave now. The road is long, as you know, and these descents are difficult at night." The vegetable seller asked me my name, and I told him: "Abdelkader." He said: "Be careful on the road. There are many foxes and wild pigs around here, and you might encounter one. If you want, you can wait for me. I’ll close my shop soon and take you with me." I said: "No need, my mother is waiting for me. Thank you." As I was about to leave, he said: "Wait, take this flashlight to light your way and return it to me tomorrow in the daylight." I said: "May Allah bless you." I took the flashlight from him. I started climbing the mountain toward the mosque and heard the call to Maghrib prayer. I thought: "This is good. Insha’Allah, I’ll reach home before dinner, and then continue on my way." I reached the mosque; it was old and small. I put the shopping bag by the door and looked around. The mosque was completely empty. As soon as the muezzin finished the call to prayer, I entered the ablution area, where I heard others performing ablution. It must be the imam or the muezzin. I wondered: "What time is it now? I think Maghrib time has passed, but I heard the call to prayer." I came out of the ablution area and hoped to find someone to ask about the time, but I was surprised to find no one there. I then entered the mosque, and it was empty. Here is the translation of the text to English: ________________________________________ I found myself alone inside, with even the Imam absent. I thought to myself: People will arrive one after another, and the location of the mosque on this elevation might delay their arrival. I stood up to pray the greeting of the mosque, and as soon as I said the Takbir (opening of the prayer), I heard a voice in my ear saying: "Continue your prayer, may Allah make what you do easier, and intend that it is the funeral prayer for your grandmother, so-and-so's soul." I stood still, unable to comprehend this message. It was the first time something like this happened to me. Should I turn around to see who’s speaking to me? Is it a whisper from the devil, or a hallucination from the night? I said, "I seek refuge in Allah from the accursed devil." Then I began to recite, my heart trembling, and my body shuddering. I recited the Fatiha in a soft, trembling voice, and when I reached the end of the Surah, saying "nor of those who are astray," I heard someone behind me echoing with me: "Ameen." It was as though I was not alone. It was as though a group of people was praying behind me, but I was praying the greeting of the mosque, not the obligatory prayer. And the funeral prayer has no bowing or prostration. Should I really pray the funeral prayer as the voice instructed me? I tried to calm myself, repeating the refuge from the devil. I completed my prayer, but my mind was disturbed, and I couldn’t focus or find tranquility. When I was about to give the Salam (greeting of peace), I caught a glimpse with the corner of my eye of people wearing white shirts, sitting behind me. But when I quickly turned around, I saw no one. Instead, I found myself in front of the mosque door, which was closed. I had prayed on the dirt. The ground seemed to spin under me, and I didn’t know whether this was a dream or just some strange whispers. I wished I would wake up if I were asleep. I stood, my legs barely supporting me, and I could smell a pleasant scent, like musk, filling the air. I felt some peace, and the fear began to fade, but I was still in shock from what had happened. I picked up my bag and walked around the mosque. It had only one closed door, and its lights were off. I left the mosque behind and headed toward home. On the way, I noticed a group of people carrying something on their backs, as though they were carrying a coffin. I hurried toward them, but the closer I got, the farther they seemed to move away. I didn’t know why I was running after them, as though I wasn’t controlling myself. I called out to them: "Peace be upon you, wait, wait!" They were all wearing white and carrying the coffin on their shoulders. I grew tired of chasing them. Suddenly, I could no longer see them. Where did they disappear in this darkness? I need to go back home. But which way should I take? I had lost my way in these mountains. I didn’t remember where I had come from. I turned on the flashlight, searching for the path, but all I saw were stones and rocks, and the darkness was overwhelming wherever I turned. I could no longer see the village lights. I didn’t know where I was. I began praying to Allah to guide me back. I walked along the rough paths, hoping to see the house or village from a distance. I no longer thought about anything, and I ran with difficulty until I reached the top of the mountain, from where I could descend toward the house. Just as I was about to start walking, I heard my grandmother’s voice calling me: "Abdul Qadir, oh Abdul Qadir." I said: "That’s my grandmother’s voice! What brought her here? Did they get so late that they went looking for me?" I said to her, though I couldn’t see her: "Grandmother, I am here, where are you?" She said: "I am here, my son." Her voice was so close. I turned around, and there she was, her back to me, looking in the direction of the mosque. I walked toward her, saying: "I apologize, I was late coming back, something strange happened to me. Where is my mother now? She must be angry with me." She turned to me and said: "Your mother may be angry with you, but I am angrier than her." When I slipped into my room, I threw myself onto the hard bed, and quickly fell into a deep sleep where I felt nothing. I woke up to the sound of my grandmother waking me, saying: "Wake up, Abdul Qadir." At that moment, I remembered what I had heard in the mosque the previous night, that strange whisper that came to me during the funeral prayer... My grandmother’s funeral! But how?! She was waking me now! Something was not right... For days, I had noticed strange changes in my grandmother’s behavior. She was no longer herself; her features, her gaze, even her words... It was as if the person in the house wasn’t my grandmother! Maybe... maybe it wasn’t really her! I jumped up in panic from my bed, rushed to my mother, and shouted: "Mom, please, I’m losing my mind!" She dropped what she was holding and hurried to ask: "What’s wrong?" I said: "The old woman with us... I suspect she isn’t my grandmother!" My mother gasped and said sharply: "What are you saying? Are you accusing your grandmother of being a jinn? What has happened to your mind?!" But I insisted on my doubts and repeated the strange behaviors of my grandmother that we all witnessed yesterday. My mother fell silent, and I felt that some doubt had crept into her heart. She grabbed my hand and took me to my room, saying: "Sleep... It seems what you saw has affected you deeply." I lay on my bed, but my chest was tight, as though someone was pressing on it. Every time I almost fell asleep, I would be awakened by a voice I couldn’t see, and I would scream in terror. My mother came in, worried, and said: "Your condition is getting worse... Should I call the Imam of the village to recite over you?" I said: "No, just... knock on my grandmother’s room door and check if she’s there, please." She hesitated, then said: "What are you talking about? Seek forgiveness from Allah! Remember your Lord so that you may calm down." I said: "I swear that the person who was with us yesterday is not my grandmother! Didn’t you see her leave this morning? Just make sure she’s still in her room." My mother thought for a moment, then said: "She can’t leave without me seeing her. I was sleeping in the hall opposite her room." After some hesitation, she agreed and said: "Let’s go together, but if we disturb her, you’ll bear the consequences." We went together, and when my mother tried to open the door, she found it locked. She looked at me and said: "She locks it from the inside, as usual." I said: "Just knock on the door." My mother knocked and called: "Mother... Mother!" But there was no answer. I said: "It won’t open because she simply... isn’t here!" My mother’s face showed astonishment, and she kept knocking with no result. I said: "Move aside," and kicked the door hard... It didn’t budge. My mother screamed: "You’ll frighten her!" I said: "Even Mustafa woke up from his sleep, but I swear that my grandmother isn’t inside." I asked her: "Where does my grandmother keep the keys to her room if she leaves?" She said: "In a small clay pot on the table." My mother hurried to search... and found it there. Her hand trembled as she held it, then she turned the key and opened the door... She screamed suddenly, a scream that terrified me, and I ran to her and entered the room. It was tidy, clean, with no trace of anyone. Only my grandmother’s Quran and prayer rug were near the bed. My mother said, stunned: "Impossible... She never leaves without her prayer beads. I saw her enter yesterday and close the door behind her! How...?" My mother hurried to call my father to come immediately, and she went out searching for my grandmother, thinking she might have visited one of the elderly women in the village, but no one had seen her. The villagers started searching, and everyone was worried... except for one man: the old man who lives in the house across from us. His situation is strange... I hadn’t seen him since yesterday. I felt strongly that the secret lay there, in that dark, suspicious house. I told my mother my suspicions, but she silenced me and said: "Stop talking like this, your mother is lost, and we don’t know where she is!" I tried to calm her down, asking her to think about what had happened to me the previous night and connect it to my grandmother’s disappearance today. I had seen a jinn take the form of my grandmother, and another jinn had tried to help me. But my mother didn’t believe me. The authorities came, and panic spread throughout the village. Everyone searched in vain. I went to the Imam of the village, told him everything that had happened, and everything I had seen and felt. He didn’t fully believe me, but he said: "Honestly... this old man across the way has been suspicious for a long time. He barely leaves his house except to sit outside and watch passersby with hateful eyes. And your grandmother was a righteous woman, may we not elevate her above Allah. She was always engaged in remembrance and Quran, and good deeds, she might have a place with the Muslim jinn, that’s why they tried to guide you. She might have passed away." I wasn’t shocked by the Imam’s words because I had felt it myself, especially when I heard the whisper in my ear yesterday about the funeral prayer. Then the Imam said: "But forgive me, my son, I might agree with you on all this, but the law and tradition prevent us from entering homes without permission from the authorities. How can we search inside that strange man’s house?" Then I said: "He hasn’t shown up since yesterday, and it seems—by Allah’s will—that he is connected to the underworld. It also seems that I was in the midst of a war between the Muslim jinn and the devils last night, but who would believe this?" I said to the Imam: "You are right. If my mother—who knows how truthful I am—doesn’t listen to me, who else would?" When my father arrived, I greeted him and said: "I have something to tell you, will you listen?" He said: "My son, this isn’t the right time." I said: "But I need to tell you... where will we find my grandmother?" My mother then said to my father: "Don’t listen to him, he’s been touched by the devil. He’s babbling and doesn’t know what he’s saying since yesterday." My father said: "Leave him, if what he’s saying will help us find his grandmother, then why silence him?" I told my father what was on my mind, and he was silent for a moment, then nodded and looked at me. Then he turned to my mother and said: "So the woman we saw yesterday wasn’t your mother, is that correct?" I said: "Yes." He added: "And you suspect she is in that old man’s house?" I said: "That’s it." He smiled mockingly and said no more. I said: "We haven’t found my grandmother in the village or anywhere around it, let’s go search that house before the old man escapes." My father refused the idea and insisted on continuing the search, saying: "Maybe your grandmother is losing her memory and went out but couldn’t find her way back, maybe she’s lost somewhere in these mountains." The search continued throughout the day and part of the night. The next day, some of my uncles arrived, and everyone was confused, not knowing where my grandmother had disappeared to—was she above the earth or below it? Three days passed, and the sorrow in the village deepened, everyone was preoccupied with the fate of the grandmother. On that day, the Imam spoke to the villagers and said: "Isn’t it strange that the old man disappeared the same night my grandmother did? Could he be involved in her disappearance? That strange man, we don’t know where he came from, and we’ve never seen him inside our mosque. We should be suspicious of him." When I heard this, I knew the Imam was smart. He hadn’t told them what I had seen, because they wouldn’t believe me anyway, but he tried to plant doubt in their hearts. At that moment, when the Imam was talking to the people, my father and I were present. He turned to me and realized that I was the one who had told the Imam about it. The people began questioning the strange man. Some said: "Even if he had nothing to.