Abdul Qayyum
Bio
I Abdul Qayyum is also a passionate advocate for social justice and human rights. I use his platform to shine a light on marginalized communities and highlight their struggles, aiming to foster empathy and drive positive change.
Stories (178)
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Concentrate on Your Life
Concentrate on Your Life A trainee monk once confided in his master, saying, "Master, I have to leave this Temple. I wish to depart from this location and enter a serene monastery." Why, the abbot monk inquired? What is this Temple's problem? Tell me what transpired. "You see, Master, everyone in this Temple is toxic to me," exclaimed the young monk. There are monks who are overly involved in politics, and there are other monks who are constantly criticizing me, you, and other monks.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
Lost Romance
Lost Romance There were things that happened in my life about ten years ago that still have an impact. Even though I lived in a busy metropolis, the summer heat made me long for the peace and quiet of the countryside. My wish to meander among verdant surroundings and tall trees intensified. Armed with a little red automobile and a reliable map, I set off into the nighttime countryside.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
My Boy Sold me for money to A Hungry Landlord
My Boy Sold me for money to A Hungry Landlord I married someone after fleeing my house, but just from there. Every day, when my sex stirred and I was restless, my house landlord would dip his legs and put his cock in my palm. As a result, I also started having sex with him.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
My Boy Sold me for money to A Hungry Landlord for Young Ladies
My Boy Sold me for money to A Hungry Landlord for Young Ladies I married someone after fleeing my house, but just from there. Every day, when my sex stirred and I was restless, my house landlord would dip his legs and put his cock in my palm. As a result, I also started having sex with him.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
In body, I am a boy, but in spirit, I am a girl.
In body, I am a boy, but in spirit, I am a girl. I am Shad Maan, a soul neither bound by conventional gender norms nor confined to them. At the tender age of six, I found myself navigating a world where my physical form mirrored that of a boy, yet my essence resonated with the spirit of a girl. The allure of adorning myself in garments traditionally associated with femininity was undeniable, a source of solace amidst societal perplexity.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
THE VALUABLE LESSON
THE VALUABLE LESSON Once upon a time, there lived a weathered farmer who had aged beyond the ability to toil in his fields. Instead, he whiled away his days upon the porch, a silent observer to his son's continued efforts in the farmstead. The son, engrossed in his labor, would sporadically cast a glance towards his father's seemingly idle form.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
Love Unveiled: A Billionaire's Unlikely Union with his Servant
Love Unveiled: A Billionaire's Unlikely Union with his Servant Love knows no bounds. It transcends barriers of distance, culture, and time, weaving its way through the fabric of existence without constraint. It is a force that defies logic, a feeling that knows no limits or boundaries. Whether near or far, in moments of joy or sorrow, love remains steadfast and unwavering.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
Echoes of Time: Unraveling the Mysterious Past
Echoes of Time: Unraveling the Mysterious Past Raindrops danced against the window panes of the quaint cottage, orchestrating a symphony of nature's lullaby. Inside, nestled in the embrace of a cozy armchair, ten-year-old Maya found solace beside the crackling fireplace, its flickering flames painting her face with warmth. Across from her sat Grandma Elara, her skilled fingers weaving tales as effortlessly as the threads of her half-finished scarf.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
I was sold to a millionaire by my family.
I was sold to a millionaire by my family. In the midst of pressing the final wrinkled shirt, the iron let out a low rumble. A protest echoed from within me, mirroring the emptiness of my wallet. It was another month looming, another month where Mom conveniently "forgot" to mention the rent. With a sigh, I released a familiar sound, escaping my lips into the cluttered air of our tiny apartment.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
