Lanterns Don’t Need To Shout!

Hasanah heard the front door swing open and the thunder of shoes piling into the hallway long before she could close her math notebook. As salaamu alaikum the children said in unison, Abdul-Rahman burst into the living room first, backpack half-unzipped, cheeks flushed with excitement. Marwa followed, hopping sideways like a sparrow.

"Guess what, Hasanah!" Marwa sang. "We’re having a costume parade! Ms. Carter’s a pirate with a shiny hat and a fake parrot. Plus, mountains of candy!"

Abdur-Rahman wiggled his fingers like ten dancing ghosts. “And everyone’s decorating pumpkins with scary faces. We can make our porch super spooky. Pleeease?”

Wa alaykum salaam you two, Hasanah smiled and patted the couch cushion beside her. At thirteen, she’d only just outgrown last year’s sneakers, but some days she felt a hundred: old enough to know the answers, young enough to still ask the questions. She waited while they flopped down one on each side, like two eager satellites orbiting a small planet.

“Okay,” she said. “Tell me everything.”

Words tumbled out: cobwebs made of yarn, classroom cauldrons for paper bats, sign-up sheets for candy bags, a neighbor offering to take the kids trick-or-treating. Their excitement fizzed and popped like soda. Hasanah listened until the bubbles softened.

“It sounds fun,” she said honestly. “I know why you’re excited.”

Marwa’s smile dimmed. “But… we don’t celebrate Halloween, do we?”

“Baba said no,” Abdur-Rahman mumbled, eyes on his shoelaces. “But he didn’t explain a lot. He was rushing to a meeting.”

Hasanah took a breath. She thought of Mama’s gentle reminders, of Baba’s careful words, of the way their parents never just said “No,” but tried to help them understand the why. She wanted to do the same.

“Can we have story-time?” Hasanah asked. “Except, it’s a true story and we’re in it.”

They nodded, small foreheads creased with curiosity.

“Once upon a Wednesday,” she began, “three Muslim kids came home from school. The youngest two were offered something that sparkled like treasure costumes and candy. The oldest, who had been offered it before, had learned something precious: some treasures look shiny, but they don’t lead to the kind of happiness that lasts.”

Abdur-Rahman slanted her a look. “Is this about Halloween?”

“It is,” Hasanah said. “Many Muslim scholars say Halloween is haram, something we don’t take part in because of where it comes from and what it’s about. A long time ago, people had festivals linked to beliefs about many gods and spirits. In Islam, we worship Allah alone. Shirk, putting anything next to Allah as a partner, is the biggest thing we stay far away from. And Halloween is still wrapped in stories about ghosts and spirits, and sometimes it plays with fear and evil to make it fun.”

Marwa hugged her knees. “But it’s just pretend. Like a game.”

“I hear you,” Hasanah said softly. “But sometimes pretending can make the wrong things feel normal. Our Prophet ﷺ taught us to be careful about which celebrations we join. When he arrived in Madinah, the people had two special festival days from before Islam. He asked about them, and when he learned they were from the old times, he said Allah replaced them with days better for us: Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha. So, we don’t need other festivals. We already have the best ones.”

Abdur-Rahman grinned. “Is candy haram now? I might need to repent.”

Hasanah laughed. “Candy isn’t haram. Sharing treats isn’t haram. Dressing up isn’t automatically haram either, like in a school play or for fun at home with clothes that are modest. It’s the celebration itself that we avoid, because it’s tied to ideas we don’t agree with, and because it imitates a festival not from our way.”

Marwa’s voice turned small. “If we don’t go, everyone will think we’re weird.”

“Maybe some will,” Hasanah said, and her voice was kind. “But people also respect when you know what you believe and you’re clear about it. Remember what Allah says in the Qur’an about His servants, that they don’t witness falsehood. The scholars explain it as staying away from celebrations rooted in wrong beliefs. We’re not trying to be better than anyone. We’re just trying to be true.”

The house creaked as the heat turned on. A thin stripe of afternoon sun slid across the rug. Hasanah remembered the first year she understood. She had cried in secret because she wanted to belong. Baba had sat with her and said, “You belong to Allah first. That’s the safest belonging.”

Abdur-Rahman exhaled. “So what do we do instead?”

“Who stole your inner poet?” Hasanah teased, nudging him. “We can do a lot. Some families stay in, play games, read Qur’an, or have movie night. But I have another idea.”

Marwa’s eyes widened. “What idea?”

Hasanah leaned forward, whispering like it was top secret. “Let’s ask Baba for a note to be excused from tomorrow’s Halloween celebration at school. And we’ll do our own Children’s Coffee Café Day right here at home.”

“Children’s coffee?” Marwa giggled. “That sounds fancy.”

“It’s just hot chocolate,” Hasanah said with a grin. “But we’ll make it special whipped cream, cinnamon, and chocolate shavings. We’ll also make some baked goods, make a little café menu and decorate the kitchen. We’ll read stories, play nasheeds, and write down all the good deeds we want to do this week.”

Abdur-Rahman perked up. “Can I be the barista?”

“Of course,” Hasanah said. “You can even make a sign: Welcome to the Khayr Café.”

Marwa clapped her hands. “And I’ll design the menu! ‘Hot Chocolate of Jannah,’ ‘Marwa’s Marshmallow Delight,’ and Fulaan’s Cappuccino Without Coffee.’”

Hasanah laughed. “Exactly! A cozy café day filled with good things. We’ll make our home bright while everyone else chases shadows.”

For a moment, the heaviness lifted. Three siblings on a couch, inventing a new activity, one that felt entirely their own.

The key turned in the front door. Mama stepped in, juggling a tote bag and a paper bag from the halal market. Baba followed with two gallon jugs of milk cradled in his arms.

“As salaamu alaykum, how are my adventurers?” Baba asked, setting the milk down. “Any exciting news today?”

“wa alaykum salaam Baba! We have a plan,” Abdur-Rahman announced, puffing his chest. “We’re going to have a Children’s Coffee Café Day tomorrow while everyone else does Halloween! We’ll drink hot chocolate, eat cakes and cookies, read stories, and make du’a for people. And I’m the barista!”

Baba blinked, then laughed. “Masha’Allah! That’s a wonderful idea.”

Mama smiled, her eyes soft with pride and her cool hands cupped his warm cheeks. “So no sadness about missing the parade?”

“No mama” Marwa said. “We’re making our own fun. And we’ll still bake cookies for our teachers at school. Café Khayr will have delivery service!”

Baba nodded approvingly. “I’ll write the note for your teacher tonight, Insha’Allah.”

They cooked together that evening, measuring sugar, cracking eggs, stirring batter until it glowed caramel-brown. The kitchen smelled like butter and joy. While the cookies baked, they prepared a cake. They wrote cheerful notes on bright paper: We’re thinking of you. We hope you’re warm and well. From Abdur-Rahman and Marwa.

After Maghrib, they packed the cookies into little boxes tied with twine. On each box, they tucked a small card Abdur-Rahman had lettered carefully: Muslims don't celebrate Halloween, here is something from our Children's Coffee Café Day. Enjoy!

When the oven cooled and the kitchen was clean, they gathered in the living room again. Baba set two candles on a tray and lit them, then turned off the lights. The small flames made soft halos on their faces.

“Once,” Baba said, “when I was your age, I felt left out on this night. My father told me: ‘Son, Allah gave you the best two days, Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha. If you cherish what He gave, He will put light in your heart.’ Tonight, I see that light.”

The next morning, while classmates wore capes and masks, Hasanah and her siblings sat at their homemade café table. A chalkboard read, Welcome to the Khayr Café: Serving Faith, Family, Hot Chocolate & Baked Goods Since 1447 A.H.

Mama poured steaming milk, Baba read Qur’an softly in the background, and Marwa scribbled “Customer of the Day” awards on paper hearts.

“See?” Hasanah said, stirring her drink. “Who needs spooky when you have sweet?”

Abdur-Rahman raised his mug. “To the first annual Children’s Coffee Café Day.”

Marwa giggled. “May it last forever.”

They clinked mugs and took a sip. Outside, the neighborhood glowed orange with decorations, but inside, their home glowed brighter, with warmth, gratitude, and faith.

Lanterns, Hasanah thought. That’s what we are. Lanterns don’t need to shout.

They just shine.

………………………………….

Author bio: Abu Hudhayfah Edwards is an author of Islamic children’s books dedicated to amplifying the voices and experiences of young Muslims living in the USA and Canada. As the creator of WKTL Radio, also known as IslamLife Radio, and Medina Educational Institute (MEI), he channels his passion for education and community into engaging stories that reflect the cultural styles and realities of Muslim youth. Once featured in Style Weekly in the article “After These Messages,” where he was described as “stoic and deep thinking,” Abu Hudhayfah Edwards continues to write with purpose and vision, committed to ensuring that Muslim children see themselves represented in the books they read