Setting: Two friends, Fahad (superstitious) and Rami (rational), are sitting on the roof of their house in Riyadh on a breezy Friday evening, sipping qahwa (Arabic coffee) and munching on dates. The wind is rustling through the palm trees nearby.
Fahad: (glancing nervously at the swaying trees)
Did you hear that? Wallah, the wind is strong tonight. This is exactly how it starts—with the rustling palms… Umm Al-Saaf and Al-Leil is probably watching.
Rami: (laughs, sipping coffee)
Fahad, bro, not again with the witch in the palm trees! You seriously believe she’s out there hiding among the leaves like a budget Tarzan?
Fahad:
Hey! Respect the legend, man. My grandmother swore she saw her once—long hair, red eyes glowing, floating between the trees. It’s not a joke. She said if you go out in windy weather, especially alone, she might snatch you up and whisper your fate.
Rami:
Your grandmother also thought sneezing three times in a row meant the jinn were gossiping about her. With all due respect, anecdotes aren’t exactly data, my guy.
Fahad:
Come on, Rami! These stories didn’t come from nowhere. They’ve been passed down for generations. You think all our ancestors were just making up bedtime horror stories for fun?
Rami:
Pretty much, yes. Most likely to keep kids like you from running around outside and falling into wells or getting lost during sandstorms. Scaring children into safety—classic parenting strategy.
Fahad:
But the details! The wind always picks up before sightings. And those footprints in the sand that suddenly stop near the tree? How do you explain that, Mr. Science?
Rami: (grinning)
Physics, bro. Wind erases footprints. And as for the sound in the palm trees—ever heard of the Venturi effect? The wind speeding through tight gaps makes creepy howling noises. It’s not a witch—it’s science with a dramatic soundtrack.
Fahad:
You’re too logical for your own good. What if one day she does show up and you’re too busy quoting Wikipedia to run?
Rami:
If I ever see a floating woman with palm fronds in her hair whispering prophecies, I’ll apologize, convert to full-time superstition, and join your grandma’s ghost story circle. Until then, Occam’s razor says: it’s just wind, shadows, and overactive imaginations.
Fahad: (mock-offended)
Occam’s razor? I bet that thing wouldn’t help you if Umm Al-Saaf decided to braid your beard while you sleep.
Rami: (laughing)
Only if she uses coconut oil. But seriously, I get it. These stories have cultural weight. They kept people safe before streetlights and GPS. But don’t let tradition blind you to reality. Fear should be based on real danger—like crossing King Fahd Road on a Friday evening, not a fictional forest witch.
Fahad: (smiling, but thoughtful)
Fair. But can I still believe in her… just a little? Like, enough to not walk alone by the date palms at night?
Rami: (chuckling)
Sure, as long as you don’t start burning incense and chanting when we run out of Wi-Fi signal.
Fahad:
Deal. But if the power cuts out during a sandstorm and I hear whispering in the trees, you’re sleeping downstairs.
[They both laugh, and the conversation drifts toward lighter topics as the wind continues to rustle the palm trees above them.]
Science Vs Superstition 
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