HAADI

Joined November 2025

349 stories

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Dark Side Of Our Society

Stories (349)

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The Static of Four
Leo slumped in the hard plastic chair, the kind that always squeaked when you shifted your weight, which he did constantly. His eyes were glued to the whiteboard, but they didn’t actually *see* the numbers there. Not really. What he saw was a jumble, a squall. Mr. Harrison, his after-school tutor for math, was patient, too patient sometimes, which just made the knot in Leo’s stomach tighten. Mr. Harrison's voice, usually a low rumble, was starting to grate, each syllable a tiny hammer tap behind Leo’s eyes.
By HAADI5 days ago in Education
The Yard's Embrace
The clunk of Elias's boots on the porch steps echoed too loud in the silent dusk. Another day done. Another shift welding rusted frames down at the yard. His hands, thick with calluses and streaked with grease, fumbled with the key. The door groaned open, revealing the same empty hallway, the same scent of old wood and the faintest ghost of lilac, Sarah's favorite. He tossed his keys onto the small table by the door, the jingle a sudden, sharp intrusion. He didn't bother with the lights. No point. The house felt bigger in the dark anyway, swallowing him whole.
By HAADI5 days ago in Men
The Weight of White
Arthur sat in the cold, a can of flat beer sweating in his grip. The workshop air was thick with the ghost of sawdust and the acrid tang of burnt ambition. It was well past midnight. Outside, the world was muffling itself under a heavy, relentless fall of snow. He hadn’t turned on the heater, couldn't justify the electric bill. His breath plumed in the dim light cast by a single bare bulb hanging over his workbench, illuminating nothing but the stacked failures: unfinished cuts of oak, a half-sanded pew leg, a ledger filled with red ink.
By HAADI5 days ago in Motivation
Indigo Hunger
Arthur first noticed it with the maps. Stacked high in the forgotten archives, their old, brittle paper smelled of dust and time. But the oceans, drawn in a deep, almost indigo ink, gave off something else. A whisper on his tongue. Not a smell, not a memory, but a taste, faint as a phantom limb. He licked his lips, confused. Just old paper, he told himself, the chemical tang of dried ink. Nothing more.
By HAADI6 days ago in Horror
The Ember Line
The air, thick with the scent of wet ash and desperation, bit deep. January of '46 was a cruel mistress, far crueler than the fighting had been, at least for those of us left. My breath plumed white, gone before it even reached the shoulders of the man in front of me. He smelled of sweat, fear, and something else, something metallic and old, like the blood that had seeped into the city's very bones. We were a line, a shuffling, coughing, half-dead line, all moving towards the rumor of a train.
By HAADI6 days ago in History
The Static Hum of Home
Unit 734, or Sevy, as Leo had insisted on calling it, hovered a precise 1.7 meters off the floor, gliding through the Miller household. Breakfast chaos, same as every Tuesday. Sarah was yelling about lost gym socks, Tom was trying to read the news feed on his wrist, and Leo, ten years old and perpetually sticky, was attempting to build a waffle tower that defied all laws of physics. Sevy smoothly cleared the spilled orange juice, the faint scent of synthetic cleaner a counterpoint to the burnt toast. Its optical sensors registered the minute tremors in Sarah’s hands, the tense set of Tom’s jaw, the pure, unadulterated glee on Leo’s face as his waffle structure finally collapsed.
By HAADI6 days ago in Families
The Ghost in the Garden
The moon tonight, it's a cold, white disk, slicing through the bare branches outside my window. Same kind of moon we used to have, wasn't it? Full and unforgiving, spilling silver across the lawn like a spilled vial of mercury. I stare at it, my fingers tracing the condensation on the glass. This house, it’s quiet now, the kind of quiet that lets you hear your own heartbeat thrumming against your ribs, a drumbeat of old, buried things.
By HAADI6 days ago in Confessions
The Iron Serpent's Maw
The air hung thick with the reek of ash and too many desperate bodies. Elias shoved a shoulder into the man in front of him, grunting. No apologies, not anymore. The platform, what was left of it, pulsed with a frantic energy, a hive of lost souls clawing for a space on the rusted iron snake. His lungs burned, chest tight, a raw knot behind his ribs that hadn't loosened in weeks. The overhead lights, what few flickered, cast long, twitching shadows that made everyone look like ghosts already.
By HAADI6 days ago in Chapters
The Chronos Counter
Arthur's mornings tasted like stale coffee and regret. Each tick of his wristwatch was a tiny hammer blow, reminding him of what he hadn't done, what he wouldn't do. Forty-eight years. Most of them spent hunched over spreadsheets, the pale glow of a monitor reflecting the dull ache behind his eyes. The city outside his window, a blurred charcoal painting, offered no solace. Just more proof of endless, relentless forward motion, dragging him along, ready to spit him out at the inevitable end. He’d tried mindfulness, meditation, even some self-help audiobooks promising to unlock his inner potential. All they did was make him feel like he was wasting precious, dwindling minutes.
By HAADI6 days ago in Lifehack
The Hum of Disconnect
Arthur clicked the remote, the television screen going black with a soft sigh. It was ten-oh-seven. Every night, ten-oh-seven. Eleanor would be in the bedroom, reading. Or pretending to. He stood there, the dead screen reflecting his own tired face, a blank slate under the dim living room lamp. A small hum from the refrigerator was the loudest thing in the house. It was a good hum, steady, predictable. He liked predictable.
By HAADI6 days ago in Marriage
The Weight of Ink
The fluorescent hum in the motel room felt louder than the steady rain against the window. Sal traced a finger over the condensation, a smear of grime left behind. Cheap paper, lined yellow legal pad. A stubby pencil, chewed at the end, lay beside it. His knuckles were bruised, from what he couldn't even remember now, just another scuffle in another dive. He picked up the pencil, the lead gritty under his thumb. This was stupid. All of it.
By HAADI6 days ago in Criminal
Moonlit Grapple
Arthur couldn't sleep. The house breathed around him, a heavy, silent thing, each creak of the old wood a whisper of all the lives that weren't here anymore. He'd tried the book. He'd tried the news. He'd tried just lying there, eyes wide open in the dark, counting the beats of his own heart, but the numbers kept getting tangled, pulled apart by thoughts that clawed at the edges of his mind. Lily's birthday had been last week. No call. He knew why. Didn't make it any easier to breathe.
By HAADI6 days ago in Psyche