Abuzar khan
Stories (123)
Filter by community
Metaphorical Journeys Through Natural Realms
There was a forest that no map dared name, though it whispered across the tongues of dreamers and the sleepless alike. They called it many things — The Hollow Green, The Rootway, The Place You Don’t Return From Whole — but its real name was simpler.
By Abuzar khan6 months ago in Psyche
"The Whispering in the Wallpaper"
The wallpaper in the upstairs hallway had always been strange. Not ugly—just peculiar. A faded pattern of vines and roses, etched in muted golds and pale greens, curling and unfurling like they were reaching for something. It had already begun to peel when we moved into the house, but my mother said it gave the place “character.”
By Abuzar khan6 months ago in Horror
There’s a Room in This Hotel That Doesn’t Let You Leave
I didn’t mean to choose Room 313. It was offered when I asked for a quiet corner, something private. The clerk, pale and distracted, didn’t even glance at the key as he slid it across the counter. “Top floor. End of the hall.”
By Abuzar khan6 months ago in Fiction
The Houseplants That Remembered Her
When Mara died, the apartment didn’t echo with silence — it grew leaves. It began on the third morning. I found a new sprout in the terra cotta pot by the windowsill. A plant I hadn’t seen before, curling up gently toward the light. It wasn't one of hers. Mara had named every plant she owned — Geraldine, the pothos in the kitchen; Nina, the fussy fern who hated the heater; and Isaac, the peace lily who never bloomed but stood upright like a soldier. She used to joke that the plants were her only children, and she raised them on sunlight, jazz, and whispered secrets.
By Abuzar khan6 months ago in Fiction
The Stranger Who Knew My Name Before I Spoke It
The train was nearly empty. It always was on these late-night rides — just shadows stitched to tired seats and the soft, rhythmic clatter of steel slicing through the dark. I boarded from Platform 7B, as I always did after visiting my father’s grave. I didn't talk to people on these journeys. No one ever sat beside me. It was understood: this line wasn’t for conversations. It was for forgetting.
By Abuzar khan6 months ago in Fiction
I Sold My Soul to Pay for College—Literally
I was nineteen, broke, and drowning in student loan denial letters. My GPA was too average, my family too “middle class,” and my dream school too expensive. My part-time job at “Burger Bastard” barely covered textbooks, let alone tuition.
By Abuzar khan6 months ago in Fiction
