Open Question: Is my short story good?
?This is going to be the worst Christmas ever!? thought Monica. ?I?m barely going to get any presents this year, and it won?t be the same without Emily and Dad. Oh, I?m sure it?ll be just horrible!?
And you would have thought like that too, if your parents had just divorced like Monica?s and you lived with your mom in Ontario while your little sister lived with your dad in California and your mom had just lost her job. There were going to be less presents, and it would hardly be Christmas without Emily and Dad. And the presents that Monica did get would be practical gifts, like clothes or shoes. And even though people think little sisters are bothersome pests (and that?s a big insult, especially since they?re not), Emily wasn?t. She and Monica were best friends. They had both tried to change their parents? minds about separating them, but their parents wouldn?t listen. Monica missed Emily so much. There was an empty spot in her heart that only Emily could fill. But Emily was gone.
Monica kicked a stone and continued her walk home from the store. It wasn?t fair, she thought, that since her mom had lost her job, Monica had had to do all of the shopping for food. No other kids her age went shopping for food. Monica had hoped that the store would be closed because it was the day before Christmas. But it wasn?t. She tried to stop thinking of Emily. Thinking of her cheerful, blue eyed little sister always made her want to cry. It wasn?t the same with her dad. He had been a workaholic, never spending any time with her. She didn?t miss him like she missed Emily. She wondered if Emily was missing her, too. And her dad. Of course, she could just email Emily and ask, but it wasn?t the same as seeing her.
Monica trudged up the driveway. She opened the door to her house. ?Mom, I?m home!?
?Hi, sweetie. Can you help me with the laundry?? asked her mother.
Monica groaned inwardly. That was another part of having Dad and Emily gone that she hated. More chores. But to her mother, she said, ?All right. Just a minute.?
She brought the groceries into the kitchen and forced herself to put on a cheerful face for her mother. Monica didn?t want to upset her hardworking mother, who was doing all that she could to keep Monica happy. She was out almost every day looking for a job and doing work for the neighbours whenever she could.
Monica walked into the laundry room and got down on her knees, helping her mother sort the clothes by colour. Looking closer at the clothes, she came to a sudden realization that the clothes weren?t hers, but looked like they would fit her. ?Mom, whose is this?? asked Monica, holding up a green and pink dress.
Her mom looked embarrassed. ?It?s yours. The Children?s Aid, um, gave it to us.?
Monica was silent after that. She knew that the Children?s Aid provided necessities for underprivileged children. She hadn?t realized that they were that poor. It scared her to think of that. So she forced the thought out of her head and tried to concentrate on something else.
?
Monica couldn?t sleep that night. Besides the obvious fact that she could never sleep on Christmas Eve, thoughts of her family?s poverty haunted her mind, and she was sure that they would invade her dreams, too. Monica knew that the best present she could ever have was to see Emily again, but it was impossible. Emily was in a different country. Monica had always taken having a little sister for granted. But, as the old saying goes, you never realize what you have until you?ve lost it. The saying was too true. And with those thoughts, Monica fell asleep.
?
The next morning, Monica awoke hearing a knock on her door. ?Come in,? she murmured sleepily.
It was her mother. ?Hey, sleepyhead. Merry Christmas. Don?t you want to come down and see your presents??
?Yes,? Monica said.
?No,? she thought to herself.
Monica followed her mother down the stairs and to the Christmas tree. In her stocking was a candy cane, an unexpected treat. And of course the usual, some socks, some hair elastics, and stuff like that.
?Now open your presents,? her mother ordered with a smile.
Monica picked up the one nearest to her. It was shoes. Predictable. But she thanked her mother with a smile. The rest of the presents were mostly clothes, but there were also two books. There was one more tiny, tiny, tiny present. Monica opened it unenthusiastically. It was a single piece of paper with something written on it. It said ?look behind you.? That was it. Just ?look behind you.? Monica looked behind her.
Someone jumped out at her. ?BOO!!!!!!!!? It was Emily!
?Emily!!!!!!!!? cried Monica. ?Emily!?
?Merry Christmas, Monica!? said Emily.
?Here,? said Monica. ?I made something for you. Merry Christmas.?
Emily unwrapped it. Then she started to laugh. It was a doll that Monica had made that looked exactly like her.
?I have something for you, too,? she told Monica.
Monica unwrapped it. ?Great minds thi

Sun, 15 Nov 2009 18:51:21 GMT
Open Question: ramadhan: Servitude of ‘Self’?
SIGNS OF HYPOCRISY
Servitude of ‘Self’
If, contrary to this, a person says: “May this be the injunction of God and His messenger, my mind does not accept it because I consider it harmful. So I shall put aside the directions of God and His messenger and act according to my own opinion”.
Obviously the heart of such a person is bereft of faith. He is not a Momin but a hypocrite because while he verbally asserts that he is a servant of God and a follower of His messenger, in reality he is a slave of his own self and a follower of his own opinion.
2.Adherence to custom
Similarly, if a person says that whatever may be the injunc

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