A very beautiful story written by me.

storytan (48)in Traveling Steem • last month

Hello..!!
My Dear Friends,
I am @storytan
I like to write about anything.

Hello my dear steemit friends, how are you.? I hope you are all well. By the infinite mercy of Allah, I am also well.I am a writer. I love to write about different topics. I write stories and poems. I like to hide myself from public places. Today I am here again with a new story or poem. I hope you will like the poems and stories I have written. Let's get started.......

As soon as he thought of it, he knew—he had to tell his mother. Shivering in the biting wind of the fog-soaked, bitter winter morning, Ibrahim ducked into the tent.

"Mother, do you know what Gul did today?" he said breathlessly.

"My precious Ibrahim, what has your sister done now?" Fatima asked warmly.
"If she’s brought down a warplane by throwing little stones, just tell me. She does that every day in her dreams."

"No, Mother. It’s not imagination this time. She actually did something amazing. Come and see. You’ll be proud."

"I'm worried about where you all will sleep, son. The tent is flooded with rainwater. If we don’t drain it, we can’t stay here."

"A Red Crescent vehicle entered the neighboring village. Uncle Khalid and Father went there. Gul Nahar and her friends went too. Please, just come with me for a bit. It will lift your spirits."

"Has something really happened that will cheer me up? Alright, let’s go see."

Fatima followed her son and was astonished when she saw the well her 13-year-old daughter had built. Ibrahim, four years older than Gul Nahar, explained eagerly:

"You see, Mother, Gul and her friends collected stones and rubble from nearby and have been digging this pit for days. Her goal was to dig a ten-foot-deep hole to store water. But her friends couldn’t bear the hard work for long. They only managed seven feet. Look around—five feet wide on all sides. When she realized that the water wouldn't naturally rise to that level, she lined the bottom with small stones and charcoal. Then she added some clean sand and more stones."

"Every day, they poured several buckets of clean water into the well to fill it. Then they stretched a tarpaulin over it, fixed it to poles at the corners, and covered it with weeds so that drones or aircraft would think it’s just part of the jungle. She feared that one day, our home would be destroyed. And then, clean drinking water would be a matter of life and death. Today, during the rain, she uncovered two corners of the tarpaulin and collected rainwater in the well. Now it’s full of clean water. Do you see, Mother? It’s Allah’s special blessing for us."

Fatima’s eyes welled up with tears. Her throat tightened with emotion. She couldn’t say anything; just nodded silently.

"My daughter is so wise. But tell me, what has my son done for us and our neighbors?"

"Mother, I built a toilet with my friends."

"Really? Where?"

"We gathered some large and small stones. You see that little rise beside the thorn bush? Right there. We dug a large pit next to it to carry the waste. When Uncle Noor was building his house, we asked for one of the large cement chutes. During our last trip to Dhaka, Uncle came to inspect it and said, 'If you'd told me earlier, I could’ve helped more.' But he didn’t stop there. He built two more toilets nearby, installed a water reserve tank, laid pipes, and even placed a motor hidden underground where no one could easily spot it. He provided a large battery to run it and even added a solar panel."

Hearing it all, Fatima embraced her son tightly. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Could one really feel so happy hearing such news? They had no food planned for the day. Ibrahim said,

"Mother, let’s arrange something to eat."

"What will we eat, my son?" she asked.

But Fatima was in for another surprise. Ibrahim explained how Uncle Noor, Uncle Zakaria, and his father Yusuf had secretly worked overnight in the open field’s lower area. Together, they built a storage room, a shelter for livestock, and a cooking room. They had gathered blankets, winter clothes, and mats too.

Fatima was overwhelmed with happiness. She raised her hands in prayer, thanking Allah.
"We must continue this struggle to survive, evading the eyes of the oppressors," she whispered.

Soon, Gul Nahar and her father Yusuf returned. They had received basic medical supplies, powdered milk, and a box of biscuits from the Red Crescent. As soon as she saw her daughter, Fatima hugged her tightly and blessed her repeatedly.

"My heart’s treasure, Gul, you've done something truly wonderful by building that well. To survive, we must be smart and resourceful like this, even in the face of enemies."

But then came sorrowful news—little Idris, the son of their neighbor, had passed away due to the cold.

"May Allah grant peace to this little bird of Paradise," Fatima said, weeping.

By afternoon, their tent felt far more livable. They had drained out the water, brought sand from the open plain, and made makeshift bedding on top of it. Wrapped in blankets, as the families prepared to sleep, they thought:

"Allah is Great."
He had provided for their food, rest, and shelter today. Their palatial home may have been reduced to rubble by airstrikes, but Fatima’s heart felt comfort—most of their neighbors were still alive.
If Allah wills, they would build their home again. But for now, their main prayer was to pass this test of faith.
After all, those whom Allah loves, He puts to the test.

Thank you so much for reading my post. Tell me how you liked the poems and stories I have written through the comments. I hope you enjoyed reading the poems and stories I have written A very beautiful story written by me.. Thanks again everyone, stay well.

◦•●◉✿ Thank You ✿◉●•◦

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@storytan