The Boy Who Returned After 40 Days — But Not As Before

The Boy Who Returned After 40 Days — But Not As Before

His name was Usaid.

Three years old. Chubby cheeks. Curious eyes. The kind of boy who chased butterflies, laughed at birds, and cried every time his mother left the room.

He went missing on a Friday afternoon — playing just outside the family’s farmhouse near the forest edge.

One moment, he was chasing his red ball.

The next… gone.

---

They searched for hours.

Then days.

The police brought dogs. The villagers lit torches. The mother, Asma, stopped eating. Stopped sleeping. Only crying. Only praying.

> “Ya Allah, return my child. Even if lifeless… return him.”

But there was no body.

No trail.

Just… silence.

Until the 40th night.

---

He returned.

Standing alone at the gate — barefoot, clean, smiling.

Not a scratch on him.

Asma screamed with joy, hugged him tightly, wept for hours.

But something was wrong.

He didn’t call her “Ammi.”

He didn’t speak at all.

And when she cried, he didn’t cry with her.

He smiled.

---

At first, they said trauma had silenced him.

Maybe he forgot. Maybe he was just confused.

But then the strangeness deepened.

He no longer liked toys.

He sat staring at walls for hours.

His eyes didn’t blink as much as they should.

And sometimes… at exact 3:00 AM, he would stand up, walk to the backyard, and face the woods — smiling.

---

One night, Asma followed him quietly.

She watched her son walk to the tree where he was last seen.

He touched the bark and whispered something in a language she didn’t recognize.

She called out, trembling:

> “Usaid?”

He turned slowly.

> “I’m not lost anymore, Ammi.”

> “What… what do you mean?”

He smiled again.

> “They showed me things. They gave me a name.”

> “Who? Who gave you a name?”

> “The ones who live behind the green.”

---

Asma screamed and ran back inside.

She told her husband. He called a scholar.

The scholar met the boy — and immediately felt uneasy.

He asked Usaid to recite Surah Al-Fatiha.

Usaid smiled… and recited it backwards.

Word for word.

Perfectly.

---

The scholar declared:

> “This is not your child. Or rather… not entirely.”

> “What do you mean?”

> “Some beings — jinn, or worse — take children. Not to harm, but to copy. They send back what looks like yours… but carries their mark.”

---

They took Usaid to a raqi (spiritual healer).

He recited Qur’an for hours.

The boy didn’t cry.

But every time Surah Al-Jinn was recited… his skin went cold.

And on the third night, he finally spoke again:

> “You can’t remove me.”

> “Who are you?” the raqi asked.

> “I am not one. I am many.”

> “Where is Usaid?”

The boy grinned:

> “He sleeps… in the green.”

---

Asma fainted.

The raqi gave strong ruqyah water, placed Qur’anic inscriptions on the child’s chest, and warned:

> “He may return. Or he may not. But keep reciting. Never stop.”

---

And so, they began again.

Day and night.

Recitation.

Tears.

Begging.

For seven days.

On the eighth day — the boy woke up screaming.

Crying.

Calling:

> “Ammi! Ammi! The trees! They were taking me again!”

---

She held him like she’d never let go again.

They thought the horror had ended.

But even now… sometimes, when Usaid laughs…

His mother pauses.

Because there’s still something in his smile she can’t explain.

---

And in the backyard… the tree he touched?

It’s always green.

Even in winter.

And every year, on the same day he returned…

The tree bleeds sap that smells like roses.