For Love, A rewrite! Options

[Siren]

a rewrite... TY Cathy for the help


Silence bounced off the walls in her elaborately furnished bedroom. White chiffon curtains draped carelessly over wide balcony doors as moonlight tumbled through, highlighting the center of the room in silvery kisses. Layana sat there on her prayer rug. She had just finished her usual set of nightly prayers, thumbing the cool pink beads of the rosary in her hand while mumbling words of thikr, waiting for another dawn's call for worship. Her large oval brown eyes spilled tears as they roamed the intricate design of her special rug made of lazuline velvet with a likeness of the Ka'ba broidered upon it in golden thread. Closing her eyes, Layana fingered the design, mentally transporting herself to that black cubic stone building in Mecca... to the heart of Islam. She felt herself crumpled before it. A mere mortal who's significance is in the purity and honesty of her intent, actions and worship. Stripped naked, cloaked only by her refined thread of faith.

It took Layana years to reach this inner peace. Her adherence to God and the just call of Islam was always there, but her immersion was incomplete. Layana's unwavering belief had helped through life's disappointments, and losses. The utter acceptance that there is a higher ground where you will find peace called to her, beseeching her soul to cohere to it in order to be worthy of that gift. But Layana always stood at the portal making excuses. Many prayer times would go by, the rug folded in the bottom of her closet, gathering dust, and Layana in her fast-paced world.

Then once upon a dream, she saw the end of creation.

Fiery balls devoured the quiet night sky as Layana looked on from her seat in the garden. She heard her friend's piercing cry , "It's judgemant day!" followed by crackling sounds, and anguished screams.

Layana woke up panting, heart racing. The screams-- an incessant echo-- unrelenting as the smell of burnt flesh invaded her nostrils. Fear punctured at the self-confidence in her own mortality as the acrid taste of death enlaced every waking thought. Suddenly time was a luxury she couldn't afford to let slip by. The Koran and rug became Layana's constant companions, pushing up the earth from her grave and dousing the fires of hell that plagued her dreams.

Between Layana's job as a receptionist in a prominent law firm and daily errands, the devotion to her faith and worship filled a distinct void. That was till Layana found love.

Love came in a unique 5' 9'' tanned package, an engaging lopsided smile, thick wavy brown hair and the deepest blue eyes Layana had ever seen. Her interest flared after hearing his infectious roaring laugh come out of one of the lawyers' offices. Matt Casale, as she soon learned, was an unattached, half Italian, half Irish private detective. Their first eye to eye contact nailed Layana's guilt ridden soul to her prayer rug for long hours. A couple of weeks later, during a special luncheon for one of the firm's legal secretaries a discussion about the injustice of maternal leave fanned-out between the sexes. Layana having no intention to add her own two cents exited the group and made her way to the empty conference room, where the object of her unwarranted attraction was making himself so comfortable in the president's chair.

Matt piqued her curiosity, led her wandering mind behind every door, to what made him tick. That night started a series of chats, in person, on the phone and online. There came a point where there was nothing more to learn about each other. Smiling to herself, Layana remembered how magical that feeling was. It was a level of pure intimacy so intense, it shook her. A passing thought of him made her weak, and plagued her with a consuming desire for his company. Matt filled a different kind of void. He cast temptation her way, but Layana's faith held strong.

Matt came from a catholic background and understood religion, accepted the idea of faith but wasn't a practitioner. So Layana prayed for him and his soul. She even tried to explain the merits of Islam to him. Still Matt's conversion was as impossible as Layana's. The fantasy fell through. Letting go of her bridal dream Layana dove into a deeper level of worship. She grew to love God more as with each page came a new understanding of how merciful God is. She felt His light touch her soul in assurance. Her loved one would be spared.

Now, days are spent in finishing chores and juggling responsibilities. Yet, as nights melt into dawns with her frail form clad in white, every muscle moving in worship, Layana finds peace in the hush she lives, a worshiper in love.





Original

For Love


Silence bounced off the walls in this elaborately furnished bedroom. White chiffon curtains draped carelessly over the wide balcony doors as moonlight tumbled through, partly lighting the center of the room in silvery kisses. Lana sat there, in that light, on her prayer rug. She had just finished her usual set of nightly prayers and sat there, fingering the cool pink beeds of the rosary in her hand while mumbling words of thikr, waiting for another new day's dawn call for worship. Her large oval brown eyes spilled tears as they roamed the intricate design of her special rug. Made of robin's-egg blue velvet with the likeness of the Ka'ba drawn upon it in a golden thread.

Closing her eyes, Lana fingered the design, mentally transporting herself to that house. To the heart of Islam. She felt herslef crumpled before it. A mere mortal who's significance is in the purity and honesty of her intent, actions, beliefs and worship.She was stripped naked before it, cloaked by the thread of faith. It took her years to find this inner peace. Yes, her belief in God and the just call of her religion was always there, but her giving to that faith wasn't complete; wasn't whole. Faith in the Divine had helped her through life's disappointments, losses and grief. The utter acceptance that there is a higher ground you can reach where you will find peace called on to her, beseaching her soul to adhere to it in order to be worthy of that gift. But Lana always stood at the mouth of that door giving herself excuses. Many prayer times would go by, the rug closed, gathering dust, and Lana in her fast paced world.

Then once upon a dream, she saw the end of the world. A firey ball ate at the dark skies and as she looked upon it, her friend screamed :"It's judgement day!"... Lana woke up then, but was shaking. Shaking from the fear she felt in the dream. She began to fear death, torture of the grave and mostly hell. The screams followed her everywhere. Her worship intensified because of utter fear. Then she found love. For love she held on more to God, clinged to her beliefs. For love she fell in love with God.

Love came in the shape of a man. A man so unlike anyone she had ever met. One whom from the second meeting made her curious, wondering what was behind every closed door, what made him tick. After each meeting and discussion she fell more and more in love. There came a point where there was nothing more to learn about him. He had opened himself to her completely. He had given her the precious gift that was him. Smiling to herself, Lana remembered how magical that feeling felt. To know him so well, being capable of reading his mind and heart, she became him. It was a level of pure intimacy so intense, it shook her. A oneness of heart, mind, body and soul. It was then she believed in soulmates.

A passing thought of him made her weak in the knees and strong in the heart. She always felt a consuming desire for his taste, his voice and company. Yet, he was a non-worshiper. He understood religion, accepted the idea of faith, but didn't practice worship. So for him and his soul, Lana sat extra hours on her rug, praying for him. As she dove deeper into the Koran, she grew to love God as with each page a came a new understanding of how merciful God is. She felt His light pat her soul in assurance. Her love shall be spared.

Days are spent in finishing chores and juggling responsibilities. Yet, as nights pour into dawns with her frail form clad in white and every muscle moves in worship, Lana finds peace where in the hush she lives, a worshiper in love.

[Siren]

Hey Lori,

Thanks for dropping in and I say... all the more power to you in getting in front of the 8 ball... :)

I did some rewriting on this... I know it needs more work...

hope to hear from u soon...

Hugs
Daniah