The Last Adhan

The Last Adhan

It began after Isha prayer.

The old mosque of Al-Qadir had stood for centuries, its minaret reaching toward the heavens like a silent guardian of faith. But something changed that night. Something unholy crept into its sacred walls.

Bilal, the muezzin, had always felt peace standing in the minaret, calling believers to prayer. But tonight, as he raised his hands to begin the Adhan, a sharp chill ran through his spine.

He cleared his throat. The microphone crackled. Then, he began:

"Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar…"

A second voice joined him.


--

The Echo That Wasn’t His

Bilal froze. His voice trembled as he continued:

"Ashhadu an la ilaha illa Allah…"

The other voice followed him, slightly delayed, yet eerily identical to his own. But this was no echo. It was mocking him.

He gripped the railing, his heart hammering against his ribs. Below, the mosque was empty—yet the voice grew stronger.

Then, the lights inside flickered.

And he heard it.

A low, guttural laughter crawling through the speakers.


---

The Presence in the Minaret

Bilal stepped back, his legs trembling. He turned to leave, but the door behind him slammed shut. The minaret’s wooden floor groaned under unseen weight.

Something was there.

Watching.

A whisper drifted through the cold night air.

"Call them… call them all…"

His breath hitched.

Then… the lights went out.


---

The Forgotten Warning

He wasn't the first.

The old imam, Sheikh Abdul Rahman, had warned him.

"Never call the Adhan after Isha from the minaret alone."

But Bilal had laughed. "Why?" he had asked.

The Sheikh’s eyes had darkened. "Because something else listens."


---

The Final Call

Bilal clutched his chest. His lungs felt tight.

But he was a servant of Allah. He refused to give in to fear.

With shaking hands, he gripped the microphone and continued:

"Hayya ‘alas Salah…"

The laughter stopped.

The air shifted.

A shadowy figure stood across the minaret. Its eyes burned with an unnatural glow, its mouth twisted into an unholy grin.

It opened its lips… and spoke in his own voice.

"Hayya ‘alal Falah…"

Bilal dropped the microphone.

The figure lunged.


---

The Miracle in the Darkness

In his last breath of clarity, Bilal did the only thing his faith commanded.

"A’udhu billahi min ash-shaytan ir-rajim!"

The air trembled.

The figure shrank back, screeching as if the very words burned it.

Then—light flooded the minaret.

Bilal gasped, his body trembling as the weight lifted. The shadow was gone.

And for the first time in his life… he truly understood the power of the Adhan.


---

The Town Remembers

The next day, Bilal told the Imam everything.

The old Sheikh only nodded solemnly.

"Now you understand why we fear the night."

From that day, no one called the Adhan from the minaret alone after Isha.

And if you ever pass by the old mosque of Al-Qadir, stop and listen.

Some nights… when the wind is just right…

The Adhan calls itself.