Dimas awoke once again at precisely four in the morning.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he recited a prayer of gratitude to Allah SWT for bestowing upon him another day of life.
Next, Dimas climbed out of bed and made his way to the bathroom to cleanse himself.
Before entering, he silently said a prayer, hoping to avoid another encounter with the mysterious woman who had disturbed him the previous morning.
Upon finishing his prayer, Dimas stepped into the bathroom leading with his left foot, then his right, adhering to the proper Islamic practice for entering such a space.
As he closed the door behind him, Dimas still felt uneasy, scrutinizing every corner of the room.
The experience from the morning before had made him extra cautious, realizing that neglecting the entry prayer might have invited the unseen presence.
According to belief, praying before entering the bathroom should compel any beings within to depart.
However, failure to do so could mean the Jinn remain, observing all our actions, even when we are undressed.
A shiver ran through Dimas as he reflected on this thought.
But it seemed that he was alone in the bathroom.
He exhaled a sigh of relief and commenced his cleansing ritual.
After bathing and wrapping a towel around his waist, Dimas performed his ablutions to prepare for the Fajr prayer.
As anticipated, there were no disturbances during his time in the bathroom.
Stepping out and closing the door, Dimas murmured to himself.
"Indeed, the power of prayer has a profound impact on our endeavors," he thought, grateful that his morning was free from supernatural disturbances.
Dressed in his koko shirt and sarong, Dimas set out for the mosque before the call to prayer had even sounded.
But he knew it would soon resonate through the air.
And just as Dimas was leaving his home, the sound of the Adhan filled the morning.
Before stepping out, he did not forget to recite the prayer for leaving the house, seeking protection for his day ahead.
"Bismillahi tawakkaltu 'alallahi wa la haula wa la quwwata illa billahil 'aliyyil 'adhîm"
*
Following the congregational Fajr prayer, Dimas stayed behind in the mosque to engage in Dhikr, seeking to keep his heart tranquil through remembrance of Allah SWT.
During his devotional practice, he noticed the imam, who also served as a religious scholar in town, deeply engrossed in his own lengthy supplications.
An inquiry regarding a supernatural disturbance he had experienced crossed Dimas's mind.
Approaching the now rising scholar, Dimas asked if he might have a moment for a private conversation.
"Pak Ustadz, may I have a word with you about a particular matter?" he began.
The Ustadz's gentle smile met Dimas's gaze.
"Of course. What would you like to discuss?" the kind teacher inquired.
Dimas took a deep breath before resuming.
"I am troubled by a matter concerning spiritual entities," Dimas divulged solemnly.
"Has one such being troubled you personally?" probing gently, the Ustadz sought clarity.
With a nod, Dimas confirmed.
"Innalillahi ..." the Ustadz uttered a phrase of consolation.
"If I may ask further, why do they disrupt humans, myself included? Is it merely for fright or is there another purpose?" pursued Dimas.
"The motives vary; many are restless souls, perhaps seeking assistance from you to resolve the mystery of their demise," the Ustadz speculated.
"Is that so?" Dimas sought affirmation.
"My advice: strengthen your faith further. It's not uncommon for them to also tempt us away from the righteous path," cautioned the Ustadz, leaving Dimas's thoughts in turmoil.
Throughout his walk home, Dimas pondered over the possibility that the apparition in the bathroom was a restless spirit seeking his aid.
Why else would it disturb him so?
Reaching the gates of his residence, Dimas pushed the gate open and caught sight of the large banyan tree before him.
Drawn to it, he inched closer. The dim light added an eerie quality to the already ominous view of the banyan.
Three steps away, a familiar tap on the shoulder halted him—just like the previous day.
Assuming it was Riko's prank, Dimas sighed, reluctant to glance back.
"What are you up to, Mas?"
The soft, feminine voice caught Dimas off guard. No women lived in the quarters—whose voice could this be?
Mystified, Dimas slowly turned his head.
With no one behind him, Dimas's skin crawled at the realization.
"Here, Mas," the voice moved to his front.
Chills surged through him.
Whipping his head back around, Dimas screamed when confronted by a woman in a traditional kebaya, her long hair cascading down. Shock sent him tumbling to the ground.
Dimas witnessed the woman's pallor and vacant stare. "Who—what are you?" he stammered. "Help me! I am in pain," she pleaded.
Dimas scrambled backward, his fear mixed with a desire to unravel the mystery behind the woman's plea.
He then stood and dashed into his house.
SLAM.
The door shut swiftly, as fear of the figure following him surged. Locking it promptly, Dimas slumped to the floor, his back to the door.
Panting and heart racing from terror and haste, he was sure the figure was not human.
As he tried to collect himself, a scream erupted from the living room.
Clamping his ears shut, Dimas wished for silence, craving escape from the inexplicable horrors that had befallen him.
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