Abbas Ali

Joined July 2025

24 stories

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Stories (24)

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When Objects Started Remembering Us
When Objects Started Remembering Us Nobody announced it. There was no headline, no breaking news banner, no expert panel trying to explain what had gone wrong.
By Abbas Ali15 days ago in Fiction
The Last Letterbox
In a quiet little village, where cobblestone paths wound between ivy-covered cottages, there stood an old red letterbox at the corner of Willow Lane. The paint had faded, its edges rusted, yet it carried with it an air of dignity — as if it remembered a time when it mattered.
By Abbas Ali5 months ago in Fiction
MARKS
Sofia had always believed that the marks she wore were the ones that defined her. Growing up in a small town where everyone knew each other’s business, it felt like every decision, every mistake, and every failure was a mark on her character.
By Abbas Ali5 months ago in Motivation
Hands of Heritage: The Hidden Histories of Pashtun Crafts
In a dimly lit workshop in Peshawar’s old Qissa Khwani Bazaar, the air smells of leather and dye. A craftsman bends low over his workbench, his hands moving with a rhythm learned not from books but from generations before him. The chisel strikes, the needle pulls, and slowly a pair of Peshawari Chappals—the iconic Pashtun sandals—takes shape.
By Abbas Ali5 months ago in Art
The Clockmaker’s Secret
The first time I noticed it was a Tuesday. The clock on Main Street struck noon, but my watch showed 12:17. The bakery’s oven timer buzzed, though no one had set it. Even the old church bells rang late, echoing across town like a warning.
By Abbas Ali5 months ago in Fiction
THE MIGRATION
The Hijrah — the migration from Makkah to Madinah — stands as one of the greatest turning points in Islamic history. It was not only a change of place, but a transformation that laid the foundation for a new civilization based on faith, justice, and unity.
By Abbas Ali5 months ago in History
The 1% Rule
Ali sat at his desk late one night, staring at the same notebook he had been using for years. The first page was filled with bold goals written in big, hopeful letters: Lose weight. Read more. Save money. Start a business. Become successful.
By Abbas Ali5 months ago in Motivation
The Stranger in the Mirror
Lena stared at her reflection, her eyes tracing the contours of her face. She had always been self-conscious about her features – the sharp jawline, the piercing green eyes, the mop of curly brown hair. But today, something was off. As she gazed deeper, a shiver ran down her spine. Behind her reflection, a figure stood.
By Abbas Ali5 months ago in Horror
The Train That Never Arrives
The station had no name. It didn’t appear on maps, and no road signs pointed to it. If you asked locals about it, they’d shrug or change the subject, as though it were something best forgotten. Still, every so often, a rumor would surface online—about the station where trains never arrive, where passengers step aboard and are never seen again.
By Abbas Ali5 months ago in Horror
The Lost Diary of a Soldier
When Margaret stumbled upon the diary, it was tucked inside a weather-beaten trunk she had purchased at an estate sale. The leather was cracked, its pages yellowed, but the handwriting inside was steady and deliberate. She had no idea that by opening it, she would be stepping into the world of a young man whose voice had been silenced more than a century ago.
By Abbas Ali5 months ago in History
The Woman Who Stood Against a Dictator
The sky over Munich was the color of steel that morning — cold, sharp, unyielding. Sophie Scholl pulled her wool coat tighter, feeling the bite of February against her skin. Her breath formed clouds in the air as she walked beside her older brother Hans. In her gloved hands, she clutched a stack of papers so tightly the edges cut into her palms.
By Abbas Ali5 months ago in History
When the Sky Fell in Love with the Ocean
They met every single day, yet they could never touch. From the first light of dawn to the fading glow of dusk, the sky stretched endlessly above, watching the ocean breathe below. Every ripple, every wave, every shimmer of sunlight upon the water was a language only they understood. The waves danced to the rhythm of the wind, and clouds painted shifting portraits on the ocean’s surface — portraits that vanished in seconds, but always left behind a trace of beauty.
By Abbas Ali5 months ago in Fiction