arsalan ahmad
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Stories (97)
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The Hidden Heirloom
On a rainy Saturday morning, the Alvis family decided to tackle the attic of their centuries-old home. Dust floated in sunbeams that pierced through the small attic window, settling on forgotten trunks, old furniture, and a scattering of childhood toys. Emily, the youngest of the family, tugged at her older brother’s sleeve, pointing at a large, seemingly ordinary chest tucked into a dark corner.
By arsalan ahmad5 months ago in Families
The Last Call
Hasan never thought his job mattered much. He worked the late shift at a call center, answering questions that didn’t really need him. Most of his nights were spent listening to customers complain about internet connections, payment errors, or devices that refused to restart.
By arsalan ahmad5 months ago in Fiction
The Door of Light
Arman had always loved old libraries. The silence, the smell of dust and paper, the way stories seemed to whisper from every shelf—it felt like a place where secrets lived. One rainy evening, when the city outside was wrapped in thunder, Arman wandered into a forgotten corner of the library. That was where he saw it.
By arsalan ahmad5 months ago in Fiction
An Evening in Paris
Paris has a way of making ordinary evenings unforgettable. For me, it wasn’t the Eiffel Tower sparkling at night or the Seine whispering under the bridges. It was a single evening that slipped quietly into my life and stayed with me ever since.
By arsalan ahmad5 months ago in Fiction
The Forgotten Diary at Grand Central
Grand Central Station was alive with its usual symphony of footsteps, rolling suitcases, and the echo of train announcements. People rushed in every direction, their faces buried in phones or hidden beneath the collars of winter coats. Among the crowd walked Daniel, a college student with his backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. He wasn’t in a hurry; his train wouldn’t leave for another hour.
By arsalan ahmad5 months ago in Fiction
The Fast Fox and the Lazy Dog
In a lush green forest lived a brown fox. He was known for his quickness and clever mind. Every animal in the forest knew that this fox was unmatched in running, leaping, and solving problems with sharp thinking. For him, life was a game full of energy. He would run along the riverbank, dart between trees, and leap across stones.
By arsalan ahmad5 months ago in Fiction
Footprints in the Snow
It was the kind of winter morning when the world felt like it had paused. The night’s snowfall had laid a thick white blanket across the city, softening every edge and silencing every sound. The usual noise of cars and chatter was gone; only the crunch of snow under careful footsteps could be heard.
By arsalan ahmad5 months ago in Fiction
The Bicycle Repairman
In the middle of a busy neighborhood, tucked between a corner grocery shop and a tiny tea stall, stood a shed barely wide enough to fit a bicycle. Its faded sign read: “Repairs Done Here.” Most people hardly noticed it anymore. They walked past it on their way to bigger shops, louder markets, or shinier workshops that promised “quick service” for the right price.
By arsalan ahmad5 months ago in Education
The Stranger’s Smile
The train was unusually crowded that Monday morning. Commuters packed into every carriage, holding on to metal poles, reading newspapers, or scrolling through their phones with blank, tired expressions. The air felt heavy, not just from the heat of so many bodies squeezed together, but from the invisible weight of people dragging themselves toward another long week.
By arsalan ahmad5 months ago in Education
Lost Memories. AI-Generated.
Ravi awoke with a start, the sunlight streaming through the half-open blinds 🌤️. The world around him felt unfamiliar, like stepping into someone else’s life. He blinked, trying to gather his thoughts, but the memory of last night—or maybe yesterday—was a blur. His apartment, usually so familiar, now felt like a strange museum of shadows.
By arsalan ahmad5 months ago in Fiction
The Last Letter. AI-Generated.
The village had begun to drowse in the stillness of early morning. Narrow lanes, once alive with chatter and footsteps, now seemed to echo with memory more than sound. On this day, Ibrahim, the old postman, was to hang up his satchel for good. For more than forty years, he had been the quiet courier of joy and sorrow, his leather bag swollen with births, deaths, promises, and apologies.
By arsalan ahmad5 months ago in Fiction
