There’s a Jinn in Our House!!
By Abdulkariem Aljrbi
Little Sarah had grown, and her bed in our room was no longer enough for her. Her mother decided to prepare a room just for her, and so began our search for a new bed. The budget didn’t allow for buying a new one from the store, so I started browsing Facebook Marketplace daily until I found a purple bed adorned with lovely children’s cartoon designs. It looked practically new. The price? Only fifteen Canadian dollars.
I went to see it, and was greeted by a woman whose face bore clear signs of sorrow. She said softly, “It belonged to my daughter… before she died.” I paused, offered some words of condolence, paid the price, and returned home. On the way, my heart remained heavy, imagining the little girl who once slept in that bed and was now gone.
I told my wife the story, and we agreed not to tell Sarah or her sister Hajar, who is especially afraid of anything supernatural. But just a few days later, we began hearing things falling in Sarah’s room. We’d rush in only to find objects scattered on the floor for no clear reason. Then, one night, my wife saw a black shadow pass through the room. From that moment, Sarah never slept there again.
Fear began to creep into the house. Hajar locked her door, and the children refused to use the bathroom unless someone stood outside “to keep them company.” Even I… began to feel that something was moving in the darkness.
Then one night, while Hajar was showering, she screamed and collapsed. I read verses from the Qur’an over her until she calmed down. After that, I decided to get rid of the bed. I dismantled it, left it outside the house, and wrote on it: “Free bed, excellent condition.” Before nightfall, someone had taken it.
But what happened next was even stranger: Hajar began fainting frequently and, at times, would speak in a man’s voice, claiming his name was “John”, a non-Muslim jinn assigned to guard a spell that she had unknowingly consumed. I tried many times to treat her with ruqyah, but she would convulse, choke, and cry. Some healers told me it was a “jinn in love,” and removing him would be extremely difficult.
Five years passed, and John never left. Hajar became pale; her hands and head trembled every time she heard anything about jinn or sorcery. Even her mother began showing similar symptoms.
Recently, Hajar had a dream that the spell was buried in the corner of a mosque in my village. She wrote down what she saw in detail, and when I asked artificial intelligence to draw it, it recreated about 80% of the vision from her dream.
Since I no longer lived in the village, I asked my brother to look into it. A few days later, he called me: “I found the place, but it’s beside a mosque under camera surveillance.” He managed to convince the officials to let him dig there. What they found shocked everyone—a dead child with black talismans and strange scrolls inside his body. The police were called. It turned out the murderer was a foreign man who had already left the country after a string of crimes. An international warrant was issued for his arrest through Interpol.
I pleaded with the prosecutors to open the talismans and neutralize the spell, explaining that it was harming my daughter—but they refused, citing the law.
That’s when a friend of mine came to me and said, “Only iron cuts iron.” “You mean sorcery?” I asked. “Yes. Go to a sorcerer who can break a spell with another spell,” he replied.
I initially refused. But watching my daughter’s suffering left me with no choice.
I traveled to a distant country. The place was grim, with statues, skulls, black dogs, a foul stench, and strange eyes watching. They brought me in to see the sorcerer. He demanded a thousand Canadian dollars in cash. I paid him and waited outside.
The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital. My money and passport had been stolen, and I had passed out. I contacted the embassy, and they arranged for me to return home. But the plane malfunctioned and crashed. Most of the passengers died. I survived—miraculously—because I fell into a pool of water.
After recovering, I left my job in medicine and began studying the science of the occult. I discovered that the world has two faces: One that we live in and see, and another that surrounds us, unseen.
I eventually managed to cure my daughter by threatening the jinn with destruction through the recitation of specific Qur’anic verses that ignited fire in his form. From that moment, I decided to establish a research center for metaphysical studies, to explore this hidden realm and analyze ancient texts that reveal how civilizations like the Pharaohs used it to build their empires.
But one question still haunts me: Did the person who took the bed suffer as I did? I don’t think so. He doesn’t know who it belonged to… Or how it came to be.
The End