Arshad khan
Bio
🌟 Welcome to my world of words, where pain turns into power and poetry breathes purpose.
I write to heal, to inspire, and to remind you that your story matters
My work is born from real experiences, broken friendships and silent nights
Stories (13)
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The Sewing Box
The box had been there for years — untouched, unspoken, and always in the same corner of Nana’s old attic. Covered in lace that had long since yellowed, it waited like a quiet witness. When Nana passed away that winter, I returned home after seven years to settle her affairs — not entirely ready for what I would find.
By Arshad khan7 months ago in Psyche
The Roar and the Whisper
The Roar That Ruled "eep in the heart of the forest where sunlight cracked through tangled canopies and shadows held secrets, ruled the mighty lion, Ragnar. His mane was like flame, his roar like thunder, and no creature dared question his rule. He hunted when he pleased, roamed where he chose, and took what he wanted.
By Arshad khan7 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Sat at Table Seven
There’s a quiet little café on East 41st Street, nestled unceremoniously between a secondhand bookstore and a flower shop that always smells of jasmine and damp stems. Blink, and you might miss it. No neon signs. No whimsical chalkboard menus boasting fancy lattes or turmeric infusions. The awning just reads “Mira’s Café” in fading gold letters. Inside, it smells like toasted bread, warm milk, and stories too old to tell.
By Arshad khan7 months ago in Fiction
The Last Vote
Ethan Clarke’s hands trembled as he gripped the cold metal railing of his balcony. Below, the streets buzzed with the fading cheers from his election rally. At twenty-eight, he was the youngest provincial assembly member ever elected from his district — a victory that surprised even his closest supporters.
By Arshad khan7 months ago in Poets
From Silent Shadows to Finding His Voice
Jay was never the loudest voice in the room. As a kid, he often wished he could just disappear. Growing up in a busy household with three siblings, he always felt overshadowed. His parents loved him, but Jay was the shy one — the kid who avoided eye contact, rarely spoke up, even when he wanted to.
By Arshad khan7 months ago in Motivation
The Last Chair in the Room"
1. The Empty Auditorium The first time Maya stood on a stage, the auditorium was nearly empty. Just a janitor sweeping the back row and an old woman knitting in the second. She was 17, full of nerves, and every word in her speech trembled out of her like a bird afraid to fly. But she did it. She spoke for exactly 4 minutes and 32 seconds. And when she finished, no applause followed. The janitor kept sweeping. The woman kept knitting.
By Arshad khan7 months ago in Motivation
The Last Chair in the Room
1- The Empty Auditorium The first time Maya stood on a stage, the auditorium was nearly empty. Just a janitor sweeping the back row and an old woman knitting in the second. She was 17, full of nerves, and every word in her speech trembled out of her like a bird afraid to fly. But she did it. She spoke for exactly 4 minutes and 32 seconds. And when she finished, no applause followed. The janitor kept sweeping. The woman kept knitting.
By Arshad khan7 months ago in Motivation
All My Crushes Ignored Me — Until the One Who Came Back
1. The DM That Shook My Stability I’m 29 now. Life’s solid — decent job in Dubai, my own apartment, a gym routine I pretend to enjoy, and a golden retriever named Chai who thinks every human exists to throw his ball.
By Arshad khan7 months ago in Confessions
All My Crushes Ignored Me — Until the One Who Came Back
1. The DM That Shook My Stability I’m 29 now. Life’s solid — decent job in Dubai, my own apartment, a gym routine I pretend to enjoy, and a golden retriever named Chai who thinks every human exists to throw his ball.
By Arshad khan7 months ago in Confessions
