Abdul Muhammad
Stories (44)
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The Unsent Message
The Unsent Message The glow of her phone illuminated her face in the dim light of her bedroom. Emma stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the “Send” button. She had typed it, deleted it, retyped it, and paused again—frozen by a cocktail of fear, hope, and uncertainty. The words were simple: I miss you more than I thought I ever could. But in the silence of the night, those words felt monumental.
By Abdul Muhammad 3 months ago in Humans
The Last Cup of Coffee
The Last Cup of Coffee The café was almost empty when she walked in. Rain slid lazily down the wide glass window, tracing lines like tears that refused to fall. The air smelled of roasted beans and soft nostalgia — the kind that only quiet places carry after the morning rush is gone.
By Abdul Muhammad 3 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker’s Daughter
The Clockmaker’s Daughter When time itself falls in love, the universe must hold its breath. The gears of the old clock tower sang their steady hymn through the fog of London’s dawn. Beneath its brass ribs, where dust shimmered like captured sunlight, lived Elias Renn, the city’s last true clockmaker. His hands — scarred by years of delicate craft — shaped time into beauty.
By Abdul Muhammad 3 months ago in Fiction
When Dreams Become Memories
When Dreams Become Memories I woke up this morning remembering a birthday party. There were balloons, a cake with pale blue frosting, and a woman laughing softly as she smeared a bit of icing on my nose. I could smell the vanilla, feel her hand, and hear a child’s giggle echoing behind us.
By Abdul Muhammad 3 months ago in Fiction
The Silence That Answers Back
The Silence That Answers Back By: Abdul Muhammad The knocking began the night after they scattered her grandfather’s ashes. It was a soft, rhythmic sound from within his old oak wardrobe, a patient tap-tap-tap like a heartbeat muffled by wood and time. It wasn’t a sound that frightened Elara; it was a sound that ached. It was the echo of his pocket watch being wound, the tap of his pipe against the ashtray, the sound of him puttering in his sanctuary.
By Abdul Muhammad 3 months ago in Fiction
The Weight of Unanswered Doors
The Debt of Regret By: Abdul Muhammad Silas was a collector of ghosts. Not the kind that rattled chains, but the kind that settled in the soul with the weight of lead and the chill of forgotten mornings. He was a Regret Eater, the best in the city. For a price, he would listen, absorb, and take. He would carry the burden so others wouldn't have to.
By Abdul Muhammad 3 months ago in Fiction
My Bones Pick Up the Signal
My Bones Pick Up the Signal By: Abdul Muhammad The silence had teeth. It was a cold, gnawing thing that bit at the edges of Elara’s consciousness the moment she turned out the light. For three years, since the Great Unraveling of her life—a divorce, a funeral, a quiet shattering—sleep had become a foreign country she could no longer visa into. Pills left her groggy and haunted. Meditation was a cruel joke. The only thing that worked was the static.
By Abdul Muhammad 3 months ago in Fiction
One Rainy Receipt
One Rainy Receipt The rain had been falling since morning — a slow, steady drizzle that made everything look blurred, softened, and somehow lonelier. Maya sat by the window, her fingers wrapped around a cup of now-cold coffee. The scent of rain mixed with the faint bitterness of espresso, and she thought about how silence had its own kind of noise — the quiet hum that fills the space when someone is gone.
By Abdul Muhammad 3 months ago in Psyche
My Anxiety is a Bad Roommate
My Anxiety is a Bad Roommate We moved in together out of necessity, not choice. I don’t even remember signing a lease, but Anxiety has been my live-in roommate for as long as I can recall. And let me tell you, they are a nightmare to share a head with.
By Abdul Muhammad 3 months ago in Psyche
The Man Who Remembered Tomorrow. Content Warning.
The Man Who Remembered Tomorrow Ethan woke up with the same unsettling certainty he had learned to accept: he already knew what today would bring. The sensation was always disorienting—memories of events that hadn’t happened yet, as vivid as dreams but sharper, more insistent. At first, it was subtle: he’d know which song would play on the radio, or what small argument he’d have with his neighbor. But over time, the visions had grown longer, more detailed, and impossible to ignore.
By Abdul Muhammad 3 months ago in Fiction
Love in the Last Train Car
Love in the Last Train Car The train rattled down the tracks, its dim lights flickering across the empty car. It was the last ride of the night, the one most people avoided, leaving the weary or the restless to occupy its lonely seats. Emma sat by the window, her coat pulled tightly around her, a paperback novel resting unopened on her lap. She wasn’t reading—not really. Her mind was tangled in the thoughts of the day: work emails, her mother’s call, and the small ache of loneliness that had been creeping in for weeks.
By Abdul Muhammad 3 months ago in Fiction
The Stranger Who Saved My Day
The Stranger Who Saved My Day A Story of Kindness That Changed Everything It was one of those mornings where nothing seemed to go right. The alarm didn’t ring, the kettle broke halfway through boiling water, and by the time I rushed out the door, the bus had already pulled away from the stop. I remember standing there, clutching my bag, staring at the red taillights disappearing into the distance, feeling like the whole universe was conspiring against me.
By Abdul Muhammad 3 months ago in Humans
