Giant Of Jumuah

Late, he was late for the Jumuah prayers. Desperately, he weaved his way to the front row. Too late. He ended up against a wall, a tiny space but at least it was the third row. It was a tight squeeze against another fellow worshipper. But it didn’t matter, the congregation prayer had already begun.

It was all good, peace in his heart.

Until it was time to prostrate.

A sudden weight came crashing down on his right shoulder. Instantly, he was squashed against the wall.

What happened? Did the dome of the old mosque finally collapse? After all, the ancient building had been standing since the colonial times.

He couldn’t breathe. He must hold up against the monstrosity. A hot pain seared his arm as the weight pressed down further. But he held his prostration. He must focus on his Friday prayer. It was important.

But it worsened with each prostration. By the final one, he was gasping for air. If he couldn’t hold this monster up, who will save him then?

And suddenly, the weight vanished. Cool air rushed into his lungs. The bright light of hope soothed his agony. He turned to the brother beside him. A huge hairy mass of muscles stood several heads above him.

“Thank you, brother.” The giant growled then left.

“You’re... welcome?” He whispered.

Perhaps it was an appreciation for the great battle of strength. The giant had found a worthy rival in him.

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