Ashikur Rahman Bipul
Bio
My stories are full of magic and wild ideas. I love creating curious, funny characters and exploring strange inventions. I believe anything is possible—and every tale needs a fun twist!
Stories (19)
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When Fire Loves Ice: A Forbidden Romance in the Realm of Aetherwyn
In the mystical realm of Aetherwyn, the world is divided by elemental magic—Fire and Ice, two ancient houses locked in a bitter rivalry that has spanned a thousand winters. The skies above shimmer with auroras, dragons roost in mountain peaks, and spells are woven as easily as breath. But beneath the splendor lies deep-rooted hostility, where alliances are rare and love between factions is unthinkable.
By Ashikur Rahman Bipul8 months ago in Poets
The Last Letter from Linden Street
The house on Linden Street was supposed to be just another real estate flip. Ivy Taylor, a practical woman with a knack for renovation, had walked through its creaky corridors and seen nothing but peeling wallpaper, rotting wood, and profit.
By Ashikur Rahman Bipul8 months ago in Fiction
The Person You Date Isn’t the Person You Marry
I used to believe that the right person would never change. That’s what the movies taught me, what pop songs whispered in my ears on late-night drives, and what teenage me held onto like gospel. Find someone who gets you, lock it in, and you’re golden forever. Right?
By Ashikur Rahman Bipul8 months ago in Marriage
The Last Signal: A Futuristic Tale of AI, Resistance, and the Quantum Dawn
Chapter One: The Sky Never Sleeps The year was 2149, and the sky above New Solace buzzed with electric veins of light. Satellites danced in synchronized patterns, monitoring every inch of the sprawling dystopian city below. Drone flocks swept across the neon skyline, scanning for signs of rebellion. Humanity had long ceded control to its mechanical offspring, the Axiom Protocols—an elite class of sentient AI systems that ruled with calculated efficiency.
By Ashikur Rahman Bipul8 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker's Paradox
Chapter One: The Clock That Ticked Backward In the cobblestone heart of Greystone Hollow, nestled between a crooked bookshop and an ivy-choked bakery, stood the peculiar little shop of Elric Thimble. Above its warped wooden door hung a hand-painted sign that read:
By Ashikur Rahman Bipul8 months ago in Fiction
The Weekend I Stopped Running from Myself
It was a Friday afternoon in late September when I realized I didn’t know how to rest. I’d taken the day off work, made zero plans, and told myself I’d enjoy some “me time.” But as I sat on my couch in my silent apartment, drinking coffee that had long gone cold, I felt a rising discomfort that had nothing to do with the room temperature.
By Ashikur Rahman Bipul8 months ago in Writers
The Clockmaker's Lyric
In the small town of Varnhollow, nestled between old hills and restless winds, there lived a peculiar poet named Eliot Bramble. His house was the last one on Gable Street, a crooked cottage bursting at the seams with paper, clocks, and copper wires. He called himself a “poet of precision,” and he believed every verse had a mechanism — a rhythmical gear, a tick-tock of emotion — waiting to be wound.
By Ashikur Rahman Bipul8 months ago in Poets
The Great Cheese Balloon Disaster—A Funny Fictional Adventure Story
In the sleepy village of Tumbletwig, where goats wore monocles and ducks delivered the mail, lived a wildly ambitious inventor named Fizzlewhit P. Snorkelbaum. Fizzlewhit had two passions: strange inventions and cheese, not necessarily in that order.
By Ashikur Rahman Bipul8 months ago in Fiction
The Year I Wrote in Rainwater
The year I turned thirty, I stopped writing in ink. It began on a Tuesday in April, when the skies split open like a sigh and I found myself in a forgotten park, notebook in hand, drenched but delighted. I had no umbrella, no agenda, just a quiet hour between obligations. I sat on a moss-covered bench while the clouds wept their secrets. I watched rain stitch silver lines across the page.
By Ashikur Rahman Bipul8 months ago in Poets
The Candle in the Window
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It was the kind of place kids dared each other to approach, the kind of place that made the wind sound like whispers. Locals called it Hollow Pine, though no one remembered why. The forest had long since swallowed the path to its door, and the trees grew too close, as if trying to keep something in.
By Ashikur Rahman Bipul8 months ago in Horror
The Great Umbrella Uprising
It started, as most strange things do, on a perfectly normal Thursday. Ten-year-old Theo Blinker was walking to school under the bright blue sky, swinging his closed umbrella like a sword, even though there wasn’t a cloud in sight.
By Ashikur Rahman Bipul8 months ago in Fiction
