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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**Evil House**
For generations, the dilapidated mansion had stood on the outskirts of the town, its overgrown grounds and decaying façade a sharp contrast to the immaculate homes in the area. Nobody dared to go there after sundown; it was a land of terrible tales and whispered legends. They said that evil itself lived inside the house and that it was cursed. To Emily, though, it was an alluring enigma.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
The Chrononaut
The constant beat of the Chronometer, with its brass gears muttering time's mysteries, filled Kai's workspace. Not only was she Kai, a young lady with hair resembling spun moonlight, but she was also the Time Weaver, the custodian of innumerable shimmering threads that unfolded from a massive loom in the middle of the space. Every strand, every unique life, pulsed with color: love was a deep, vivid crimson, regret was a dismal gray, and pleasure was a dazzling gold.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
The Curse of the Portrait
The strange had always piqued Marcus's interest. His preoccupation with the darkest sides of human nature is evident in every piece of art he created, which flourished on the macabre and the enigmatic. He knew he had to have an old and elaborate mirror he found in a dusty corner of an antique shop.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
The Quiet Eyewitness
The world of Mary Maloney was rendered in serene tones. The simple pleasures of home and the easygoing rhythms of everyday existence dominated her life. She was married to Patrick, a hardworking detective, and looked forward to his return from work every day. She also took satisfaction in the comfortable space she had made for him.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
The Charmed Clockmaker
An old clockmaker named Elias resided in the center of the fascinating town of Veridia, nestled amid lush forests and undulating hills. His small store, "Ageless Ponders," gained notoriety for the accuracy of its watches but rather for the hushed tales of its paranormal qualities.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
Anticipations and Validation
Seated in her chamber, Anaya felt a knot of unease twisting in her gut. It was finally her engagement day, the subject of which she and her family had been talking about nonstop at home. Without any appropriate marriage proposals, a year had gone by, and her mother's sorrows had gotten deeper every day. All of a sudden, the family was faced with the task of selecting the most suitable marriage after receiving four proposals. Although Anaya's elder sister had been informed, Anaya felt silent and nervously chewed her dupatta like a movie heroine.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
### The Fire of Solstice
The longest day of the year was usually a celebration in the seaside village of Emberpoint. The locals get together at the beach to make a massive bonfire on the summer solstice each year. This generation-to-generation custom, which signified the community's togetherness and spirit, also marked the height of summer.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
Abroad
It is very cold in Alaska. I have been living here for the last eight years but today I am very happy because for the first time in such a long time I have to go back to my country Pakistan. A big problem with us immigrants is that no one appreciates our talents while living in our own country and when we are stuck in a vicious cycle of isolation and separation while trying to improve the lives of our loved ones abroad. I don't even know. I forgot to mention my name, my name is Hasan and I came to say goodbye to the new bride just a few days after my wedding and it seemed that my heart was left somewhere.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
**The Reviled Write**
Clara Morrison was an essayist, devoured by a frantic longing to see her title in print. Each day she works absent at her portable workstation in her little, cluttered loft, creating stories that appear to shrivel beneath the basic eyes of distributors. Dismissal letters heaped up, each one a sharp sting to her waning trust.
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
