Azmat

Joined June 2025

23 stories

Bio

𝖆 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖋𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗

Stories (23)

Filter by community

Sort by (Optional)

When the Sky Forgot to Set
On the first day, no one noticed. It was summer, after all. The kind where evenings linger and children forget bedtime. The sun hung in the sky like a bright coin on a string, swaying but never sinking.
By Azmat6 months ago in Poets
The Fire Beneath the Library
The library was silent—but not dead. Not while Ania still wrote. Beneath the broken floorboards of the old Warsaw library, where the Nazis had burned most of the books and walled off the rest, a sixteen-year-old girl sat hunched over a torn notebook, her candle no thicker than a matchstick.
By Azmat6 months ago in History
The Memory Dealer
In District 9, memories were just another product. You could buy a vacation you never took, a lover you never met, a childhood free of bruises and cigarette smoke. Just a visit to a dealer and a few hours in the chair, and your brain would believe it all.
By Azmat6 months ago in Journal
Return to Sender
The first letter she ever wrote to herself began with: “Dear Claire, I hope today was kind to you.” Claire folded it neatly, slid it into a pastel pink envelope, and sealed it with a sticker that said "Keep Going." She addressed it in loopy cursive to her own name and dropped it quietly into the outgoing mail bin.
By Azmat6 months ago in Humans
“The House Where Thursdays Disappeared”
The house was too cheap to be true. Two stories. White picket fence. A porch swing that groaned like it remembered better days. Daniel loved it. Mae was cautious.
By Azmat6 months ago in Horror
"Echoes in the Empty Room"
Story: The room still smelled like him. That familiar mix of old cologne, gym socks, and the citrus shampoo he always pretended wasn’t his. Marie stood in the doorway, hands clutching a mug of chamomile tea that had long gone cold.
By Azmat7 months ago in Humans
Five Seconds to Forever
Mira discovered her power at thirteen, mid-fall from a tree. It wasn’t a graceful tumble—more of a chaotic flailing of arms and gravity’s eager pull—but right before her head met the rock below, something snapped inside her.
By Azmat7 months ago in Humor
Return to Sender
Return to Sender The first letter she ever wrote to herself was addressed from Florence. She chose Florence not for any particular reason, only that it sounded poetic — a place where people painted sunsets and ate lemon gelato on cobblestone streets. It was the kind of place someone might write from when they were happy.
By Azmat7 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Always Waited at 4 PM
"The Man Who Always Waited at 4 PM" At exactly 4:00 PM every day, the old man would appear on the park bench beneath the crooked elm tree in Rosehill Park.
By Azmat7 months ago in Fiction
The Train to Where We Were Still in Love
The Train to Where We Were Still in Love I bought the ticket on impulse — the 9:15 AM to Windmere, the same train we used to take every anniversary.
By Azmat7 months ago in Fiction
My Father Was a Candle Maker
My Father Was a Candle Maker When I was seven, I believed my father could trap sunlight. I’d watch him work in the back room of our little shop, surrounded by boiling pots of beeswax and shelves lined with jars of crushed herbs, dried petals, and pigment powders. The air always smelled like lavender and honey, and his hands—though rough—moved with such gentleness, you’d think he was sculpting something sacred.
By Azmat7 months ago in Fiction
The Apartment That Held Too Much Silence
The Apartment That Held Too Much Silence The first thing I noticed after she left was the silence. Not the peaceful kind, like Sunday mornings with coffee and birdsong. This was the kind of silence that presses against your chest and echoes your footsteps like accusations. It seeped into everything—into the walls, into my socks, into the way the light filtered through the blinds in the late afternoon.
By Azmat7 months ago in Fiction