Asghar ali awan
Bio
I'm Asghar ali awan
"Senior storyteller passionate about crafting timeless tales with powerful morals. Every story I create carries a deep lesson, inspiring readers to reflect and grow ,I strive to leave a lasting impact through words".
Stories (35)
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The Last Cup of Tea
The steam rose slowly from the chipped porcelain cup, curling into the morning light like a soft whisper. My grandmother always said tea was not just for drinking — it was for listening. “If you’re quiet enough,” she told me once, “you can hear the world telling you its secrets.”
By Asghar ali awan3 months ago in Humans
The Last Letter She Never Read
Arjun sat by the window, the paper in his trembling hand stained with the drops of tea he hadn’t touched. Outside, the autumn leaves were falling, just as they had the day she left. He remembered every detail the soft warmth of the sun that day, the way her laughter lingered in the air, the weight of his pride that had
By Asghar ali awan3 months ago in Families
The Day My Ordinary Life Turned Extraordinary
I always believed that happiness had to be something grand, something so dazzling that it would shake the foundations of my ordinary life. I thought joy only came with major milestones: graduating, buying a home, getting a dream job. But one unexpected day, my belief was challenged in the most extraordinary way.
By Asghar ali awan4 months ago in Motivation
The Weight of Empty Rooms
The house was too quiet. Not the kind of quiet that comes after laughter fades, or when night gently settles over a neighborhood. No this was the sort of silence that swallowed sound whole. Even the ticking of the old wall clock seemed hesitant, as if afraid to break the heavy stillness that lingered in every room.
By Asghar ali awan4 months ago in Confessions
The Promise That Lasted Until the Final Breath
There is a kind of love that doesn’t make noise, that doesn’t show itself in grand ceremonies or fireworks. It’s a quiet love—the strong hand resting on your back, the soft voice you hear in the silence of the night, the presence we often take for granted until one day we realize it was everything. That was the love my father had for my mother, and the love she carried for him in return.
By Asghar ali awan4 months ago in Humans
The Heart of a Dog. Content Warning.
Author of the story (kamalali) In a quiet village nestled between green hills and winding streams, lived a humble but kind-hearted man named Haji Bilal. He and his wife lived in a modest home with their two children, a son and a daughter. Though they didn’t have much in terms of money or possessions, their home was filled with love, laughter, and generosity. The villagers respected them for their honesty and simplicity.
By Asghar ali awan4 months ago in Fiction
The Letter I Never Sent. Content Warning.
There are moments in life that carve themselves into your soul, moments you carry with you long after time has passed. For me, that moment came in the form of an old letter—creased, yellowed, and hidden in the bottom drawer of my father’s desk.
By Asghar ali awan4 months ago in Confessions
Tails of Trust. Content Warning.
The summer sun was still climbing when Mia darted across the backyard barefoot, her laughter spilling into the warm air. Behind her, paws thumped against the grass with unwavering rhythm. Bruno, her golden retriever, chased after her with his tongue lolling and his tail wagging furiously, a furry shadow that never strayed too far.
By Asghar ali awan4 months ago in Petlife
"The Potter’s Hands". AI-Generated.
In a quiet village nestled between green hills and winding rivers, lived an old potter named Harun. His hands, though wrinkled and worn, shaped clay with the grace of a dancer and the wisdom of ages. His pots weren’t just containers—they told stories. People believed that each curve, each etched line, held pieces of something greater than memory. They said Harun remembered things no man should.
By Asghar ali awan6 months ago in Fiction
