By Zainab Umarfor KidSpirit's Storytelling and Narrative issue.
Almost as if it were part of the story itself, I can recall the day my mother told us the tale of Hazrat Musa like it happened just yesterday, instead of a decade ago.
It was a typical Lahori summer night, soundless except for the droning symphony of mosquitoes. My little brother and I tossed around restlessly in our beds, fanning our flushed faces. A power line near our home had been damaged, plunging our street into darkness, and the wind from the rechargeable fan our father had positioned near our bed made a feeble attempt at cutting through the thick-as-custard air. Hearing our muttered complaints and huffs of exasperation, our mother entered the room. She knew it was impossible for us to sleep in this heat, so she told us to be patient, and began telling us a story which transported us from the humid streets of Lahore to the searing dunes of ancient Egypt, where a child called Musa (Moses) was born.