That particular afternoon at Al-Hikmah Islamic Boarding School was unlike any other; the typically serene and composed atmosphere, often punctuated by the gentle hum of student chatter, was transformed into an eerie stillness, as if an invisible shroud of solitude had descended over the entire boarding school complex. The dry season wind wafted through the air with a delicate touch, softly caressing the parched leaves that lay scattered across the expansive yard, their rustling a mere whisper against the profound silence that reigned. In a secluded corner of the sprawling campus, an aging library building stood quietly, its once-vibrant beige paint now faded and reminiscent of better days, a testament to the passage of time. This building, often neglected during the languid afternoons, especially by the students who preferred the sunny outdoors, was now home to only one solitary figure. Syarifah, a dedicated junior librarian, remained steadfastly at her post, encircled by a fortress of worn yellow books that had seen countless readers come and go and aging wooden shelves that creaked increasingly under the weight of their history.
Yet, on this particular day, something stirred within that otherwise tranquil space. Since the early noon hours had rolled in, whispers had begun to circulate among the junior students, particularly among Zahra and Nisa, who were both fueled by youthful curiosity and a sense of adventure. They had been exchanging hushed stories about a mysterious "strange sound" that emanated from the depths of the library — a soft, almost haunting whisper that seemed to echo as if someone were intently reading a book aloud, even though no presence was visible to the naked eye. The rumors spread like wildfire, igniting a spark of intrigue similar to the infamous but now faded Memory of Room 13, only this time, the atmosphere felt even more unsettling, adding a layer of thrill that drew students from their routines.
Compelled by a mixture of trepidation and exhilaration, Zahra and Nisa discreetly made their way toward the library corridor after their calligraphy extracurricular activities came to an end. Their hearts raced with a mix of anxiety and anticipation as they crept closer to the source of the sound. "Nis," Zahra whispered urgently, her voice quivering with both fear and bubbling excitement, "the voice we heard this afternoon was real! It sounded like someone softly reciting 'Inheritance jurisprudence,' but Syarifah claimed she was alone in there. Do you think there could actually be a book ghost residing in this very library?" Meanwhile, Nisa, ever the pragmatic one and ready with her cell phone, had it poised to record while she attempted to eavesdrop through the slightly ajar door. "Za, don't jump to conclusions! Perhaps Syarifah is merely practicing her Arabic reading skills. But… let's listen a bit longer. Aira mentioned that if we hear anything unusual, we should report it immediately," she replied, trying to keep their imaginations in check even as their excitement surged.
With bated breath, they pressed their ears against the creaking wooden door, which groaned under the weight of secrets past. It was then that they heard it: a faint voice floated into the corridor, clear enough to discern yet eerie enough to send chills down their spines: "...the inheritance of a son is twice that of a daughter, Quran Surah An-Nisa 11... What if it's crypto zakat..." It was not a ghost's utterance but the unmistakable voice of a human, albeit interrupted and uneven, like an imperfectly preserved recording. Slowly, opening the door revealed a startled yet pale Syarifah standing there, clutching a thick Fathul Qadir book, the very embodiment of surprise. "Za? Nis? What are you doing peeping in here? Come in, but please, you must keep this a secret!" she implored with urgency.
Inside the dimly lit expanse of the library, the musty scent of old leather and fading ink hung heavily in the air, intertwining with the crisp echoes of history. Tall, towering shelves were lined with dust-covered yellow books, while the solitary reading table flickered under the yellowish glow of a neon light, casting a peculiar ambiance around the room. After ensuring they were alone, Syarifah cautiously locked the door and, lowering her voice to a near whisper filled with tension, revealed, "This is a secret I've discovered. Since yesterday, there's been a recording playing from behind the bookshelf in the corner. When I investigated, I found it was an old cassette tape, forgotten and hidden away within a broken cassette player from the 90s, tucked neatly among Imam Syafi'i's works. When played at a slower speed, it contained the voice of a senior ustadzah who once taught here, diligently reading fiqh—but with one oddity—it was stated, 'This voice is for future students; if the boarding school needs a leader.'"
Zahra, eyes wide with intrigue, picked up a weathered brown cassette tape, its label barely legible, reading: "Secret Fiqh 1995." "Fifah, whose voice could this be? And why was it hidden away like this? This feels exhilarating, like we're on a treasure hunt!" she exclaimed, her excitement palpable. As Nisa plugged her headphones into her phone to play the recording, the old voice began to resonate softly within the room, reverberating with the weight of history: "...future female students, you are the representatives of Al-Hikmah at the World Quran Recitation Competition. This Fiqh is the key: the ustadzah's household is the foundation; do not let there be any cracks…" Suddenly, just as abruptly as it had started, the recording cut off: "...the library holds the secret... In the blue book..." and then silence enveloped them once more.
Syarifah pointed toward an enigmatic shelf positioned in the corner. "Yesterday, I sought out that blue book—and it was indeed there! The title reads 'The Secret Book of Islamic Boarding School Leaders,' authored by the founder back in the 1960s. Within its pages were filled with handwritten notes detailing ancient da'wah strategies, alongside a will that emphasized: 'Choose Widyaiswara's Student to be the head of the boarding school in the future.'" Zahra's disbelief transformed into exhilaration as she processed the gravity of their discovery. "Could this be a vital clue for Aira? But why is it surfacing only now?"
Suddenly, the tranquility was shattered by a loud knock at the library door. Laila from the Al-Fath team burst in, panting heavily as if she had just raced across the campus. "Fifah! I just heard a voice outside—is this recording actually the ghost of the deceased Ustadzah?" Syarifah, her heart racing in response to the sudden intrusion, quickly clarified, "It's not a ghost, sis! It's just an old cassette that happens to be linked to the founder of our boarding school. We merely uncovered it; perhaps the battery was nearly dead before and has now revived." Intrigued, Lina and Salsabila, drawn by the commotion, quickly joined their friends. "Hey, this feels like an adventure, friends! Let us all come together to uncover the mysteries hidden within that blue book!"
With renewed determination, they began scouring the shelves in the corner. It was there that they unearthed a thick blue book, brimming with handwritten notes, detailed maps regarding the organization of the future Islamic boarding school, and a final letter that read: "To the student who finds this, lead the boarding school with a strong sisterhood and determination. Aira… or her successor… the secret lies on the bottom shelf." A chorus of excitement erupted as Aira unexpectedly appeared at the door, her face a mix of confusion and curiosity. "Hi, everyone? I was searching for Syarifah, and it's quite noisy in here! What's happening?"
With fervor, Zahra pointed to the blue book. "Aira! This tome holds a clue for the future leader of the boarding school—look, your name is mentioned right here! The voices echoing from this library are the key to something significant!" Aira's surprise was evident, but she accepted the book gingerly, her expression shifting to one of solemnity. "Subhanallah... This is an incredible responsibility, but what exactly does the secret on the bottom shelf entail? Let's delve into this together!"
As the afternoon surrendered to evening's embrace, the once-quiet library became transformed, buzzing with anticipation and curiosity; it turned into a clandestine headquarters for a band of friends united in their quest to unveil the enigma that had long lain dormant in the shadows of silence. The mysterious voice, once perceived as a mere disruption, now emerged as a beacon guiding them toward the profound secret surrounding the leadership of the Islamic boarding school—a revelation that had remained hidden for untold years, waiting patiently for the right seekers to uncover its truth…
***
As night quietly descended upon the Al-Hikmah Islamic boarding school library, creating a shroud of mystery and intrigue, it transformed into a secret detective headquarters of sorts, where slender beams of cell phone flashlights danced across the dusty lower shelves, casting ghostly shadows that seemed to whisper forgotten tales. The confined space heightened the thrill in the air, imbuing the atmosphere with an exhilarating energy, as if the group of friends found themselves at the very core of a grand conspiracy waiting to be unraveled. The entire team—Aira, Zahra, Nisa, Lina, Salsabila, Salsabi, Syarifah, and Laila—kneeled on the creaky wooden floor, their hearts racing with a potent cocktail of excitement and tension, each thump mirroring the collective heartbeat of their adventurous spirits. The stuffy air around them carried the enticing scent of old paper, a nostalgia-heavy aroma that transported them to a time long past, while the old cassette player, now silent after its batteries had run dry, abruptly pulled them away from the romantic echoes of nostalgic music that had accompanied their mystery-solving endeavor. Lying open on the table was the blue-bound book of the boarding school's revered founder, with his cursive handwriting boldly declaring: "The bottom shelf holds the keys to leadership—for future Widyaiswara's Student," a phrase that seemed to beckon them to explore the hidden treasures that lay just beyond their reach.
Aira, whose name had been specifically highlighted in the will, slowly raised her hand, signaling both her readiness and alertness to the unfolding mystery. "Guys, be careful. This is not a game. The founder, Ustadz Hasyim, passed away in 1985. He was also the grandfather of Ustadzah Hamidah, who entrusted specific instructions for our generation. This bottom shelf may contain envelopes or confidential documents," she cautioned, her tone firm and filled with a sense of responsibility that impressed her friends. With resolute nods, Syarifah, the designated librarian, moved with care, her hands trembling slightly, as she shifted the rickety wooden shelf aside. The sudden creak that accompanied the action sent dust swirling into the air, unveiling a hidden gem: a small locked metal box, its surface covered in faded writing that read 'Amanah Pemimpin 1965' (Leader's Trust 1965). The excitement in the air surged as she exclaimed, "This is it! But, this padlock—where's the key?!"
Zahra, brimming with determination, swiftly retrieved a piece of paper from the open blue book, her fingers tracing over her hastily written notes: "The key is behind the photo of the founder on the top shelf. Look for the one featuring the first mosque." With unhesitating enthusiasm, Nisa leaped onto the small ladder, her excitement causing her hands to tremble as she delicately extracted the black-and-white photograph of Ustadz Hasyim. To her delight, as she pulled the aging photo down, a small iron key slipped out and clattered to the floor. "Gotcha! Here's the key!" she exclaimed triumphantly, eliciting a chorus of quiet cheers from her eager friends. With urgency in her movements, Laila inserted the key into the lock, and a satisfying 'click!' echoed in the stillness of the library as the box opened, revealing an original will, the land certificate meant for the backup Islamic boarding school, and an additional cassette tape labeled 'Message for Future Leaders.'
Without wasting a moment, Aira deftly slid the second cassette into the old player, and as it whirred to life, Ustadz Hasyim's soft voice began to drift through the air, echoing faintly yet clearly: "Assalamu'alaikum, students of Al-Hikmah. If you find this, the boarding school needs a new leader. I appoint the female student with the initial 'A'—the successor to Widyaiswara—as deputy head of the curriculum department. This land certificate is to be used for the construction of an international MTQ hall. But with one condition: prove your sisterhood at the MTQ. The final secret: it's in the librarian's desk drawer…" Abruptly, the message terminated as the device fell silent once more, indicating that the battery had failed yet again.
Lina's eyes widened in astonishment, her voice barely above a whisper as she gasped, "Aira?! Deputy head? Are you serious! But where can we find the old librarian's desk drawer?" In a flurry, Syarifah opened her own desk drawer, only to find it empty and devoid of clues. "Wait! The old desk is in the archive room! That was the one used by Mrs. Siti two decades ago," she recalled swiftly. Salsabila and Salsabi chimed in with eager agreement, "Let's go to the archive room right now! We can reach it through the back door of the library; we must hurry!"
They carefully slipped through the dimly illuminated back door, stepping into the archive room, which was a veritable time capsule filled with cardboard boxes labeled 'Books from the 1990s.' A rickety wooden table stood sentinel in the corner, its drawers firmly locked, presenting yet another puzzling riddle. With determined focus, Zahra scoured the area and found a clue: beneath the table, her fingers brushed against a small carving that read, 'Key under the chair.' Excitedly, they lifted the heavy chair aside, unearthing a yellow envelope marked 'New Leader Instructions.' Inside, it was packed with detailed letters proclaiming: 'Female Student Aira—you have been chosen for your exceptional memorization skills, your calligraphy, and your deep understanding of MTQ Asia ukhuwah. Starting in 2026, take over the curriculum. Utilize the reserve land to construct the MTQ building. But there is one final stipulation: don't forget to hold an emergency meeting with the founding alumni.'
With trembling hands, Laila held the letter, her voice quaking as she uttered, "This... this is a heavy responsibility, Aira. You're currently only in 11th grade! Does Ustadzah Hamidah even know about this?" Aira shook her head slowly, eyes glistening with unspoken weight of the challenge she was to bear. "Not yet, sis. This is all part of Allah's will. However, we must report this tomorrow morning—together. This reserve land can transform the boarding school, allowing us to create a world-class MTQ arena!"
Nisa could hardly contain her excitement as she exclaimed, "Imagine: we could be representatives in Egypt! And when we return, Aira will be the deputy head! How exhilarating that would be!"
Just then, the atmosphere shifted abruptly when the warehouse lights flickered on with a bright intensity! Mrs. Siti, the elderly librarian they all admired, appeared at the doorway, broom in hand, with a bemused expression. "Students! What are you doing in the warehouse at night? What is all this commotion?!" Syarifah quickly stepped forward to explain: "Mrs., we discovered the founder's clue! This is a letter intended for Aira!" With an air of wisdom, Mra. Siti only smiled mysteriously, her eyes sparkling with meaning and depth. "I already know... Ustadzah Hanifah, the wife of Ustadz Hasyim, entrusted me to keep this secret for three decades. You all have truly earned the right to discover it. Tomorrow morning, I will present this to Ustadzah Hamidah. An alumni meeting will be scheduled very soon."
Filled with renewed enthusiasm and ambition, the group made their way back to the dormitory, joyful expressions illuminating their faces, with the inspiring letter of trust now securely in Aira's caring hands. Zahra whispered, "Aira, from the cassette tape to the vice principal—what a wonderfully crazy opportunity and adventure in this library!" Aira nodded, feeling both amazed and prepared to embrace the new challenge ahead. "This is a significant responsibility, Za. But a fresh chapter begins tomorrow at the alumni meeting—what other hidden secrets might await us?" she mused internally, her heart alight with an insatiable curiosity.
Although the night enveloped the boarding school in calmness, the library's secrets had only just begun to unfurl, poised to create ripples of excitement and revelation at the forthcoming meeting...