HAADI

Joined November 2025

349 stories

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Dark Side Of Our Society

Stories (349)

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The Weight of Moonlight
Elias usually slept like a stone, the kind of deep, dreamless sleep that came from years of hard living, hard work, and not much thought about what might lie beyond the next sunrise. But tonight, sleep was a cruel joke. The bed felt too big, the sheets too cold, and the air, usually thick with the faint scent of old wood and Martha’s lavender sachet, was just… empty. Two years gone, and sometimes it still felt like yesterday, sometimes like a lifetime.
By HAADI21 days ago in Men
The Dust and the Guttering Flame
Elias sat hunched at the oak table, its surface scored with generations of nervous scribblers, and watched a dust mote drift through a shaft of weak morning light. The air in the Great Hall of the Caelian Library was thick with the scent of aged paper and something metallic, like old coins or forgotten sweat. Three hundred thousand books, someone had told him once. Three hundred thousand reasons he felt like a fraud.
By HAADI21 days ago in Motivation
Moonlit Fissures
The porch light clicked off the second Lena’s car tires crunched on the gravel drive. A familiar greeting. Her mother, Clara, always did that, a small, passive-aggressive flourish that said, 'You’re late,' without opening her mouth. Lena sighed, a breath that hitched in her chest, the kind that tasted like old dust and unspoken arguments. The house loomed, a darker rectangle against the bruised twilight sky, smelling of lemon polish and the faint, enduring scent of Clara’s lavender potpourri.
By HAADI23 days ago in Families
The Last Train to Nowhere
The rain lashed against the window, thick sheets of it blurring the already featureless landscape. Black. Just black. The old train rattled, a constant, low growl that vibrated through my bones, through the cheap fabric of the seat. Empty car. Just me and the rhythmic squeal of the wheels on wet tracks. An easy escape. That’s what I told myself. A clean break. But my hands, they wouldn’t stop shaking. Not even a little. Clenched tight, white knuckles, like they were trying to hold onto something that was already gone.
By HAADI23 days ago in Confessions
The Weight of Unspoken Words
Arthur’s fingers, gnarled with age and the years he’d spent sifting through brittle pages, traced the fresh ink on the heavy cream paper. Eleanor. Just her name. He hadn’t even started the salutation, and already the familiar ache had settled in his chest, right behind his sternum, a dull, persistent throb that had been his constant companion for decades. The lamplight, a pools of anemic yellow, barely pushed back the encroaching shadows in his small study. Outside, the city was a low hum, a distant, living thing he rarely bothered to acknowledge anymore. Inside, it was just him, the scratch of his pen, and the ghost of a choice he’d made a lifetime ago.
By HAADI23 days ago in Chapters
Moon-Drunk Ragdoll
Sarah hadn't touched a blueprint in six months. The silence of her apartment, once a luxury, had curdled into a thick, suffocating thing. Every tick of the antique wall clock, a gift from her late grandmother, felt like a hammer blow against the inside of her skull. She’d burnt out, they called it. A fancy term for falling apart at the seams, for waking up every morning with a stomach full of lead and a head full of static. Her high-flying architecture career, her meticulously planned future, all of it crumbled like dry clay. Now, her days bled into each other, a smear of coffee stains, unanswered emails, and the hollow ache of something irrevocably lost. The shame was a live thing, squirming in her gut, a constant reminder of the person she was supposed to be, the person she used to be. She couldn't even look at her reflection without seeing a stranger, gaunt and wide-eyed, haunted by the ghost of ambition.
By HAADI23 days ago in Lifehack
The Unwinding
Arthur wrestled the damn thing through the doorway, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The grandfather clock was taller than him, dark oak, ornate, and smelled faintly of dust and forgotten cigars. It was another one of his 'finds,' dragged home from a dusty estate sale he’d sworn was going to yield a fortune. Clara stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. "Another relic, Art? What’s this one supposed to do, tell us it's time for the apocalypse?"
By HAADI23 days ago in Marriage
The Smell of Salt and Diesel
Leo sat in the idling sedan, the exhaust fumes thick enough to taste, mixing with the stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener that clung to the upholstery. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, even though the car wasn't moving. Not yet. Just waiting. Always waiting. This particular wait felt heavier, tighter in his chest, like a fist squeezing his lungs. Rain slicked the windshield, turning the grimy storefronts into blurred, ugly watercolors. He hated the rain. Hated this street. Hated everything about this damp, dead-end city.
By HAADI23 days ago in Criminal
The Weight of Cobalt
The morning sky outside Elias’s kitchen window was a flat, bruised blue, the kind that promised nothing but more cold. And there it was again, on his tongue, a faint but distinct tang, metallic and almost icy, like a forgotten spoon left out overnight, gathering dew and despair. He didn't just see blue; he *felt* it, a specific, undeniable flavor that clung to his palate, a sensation he'd carried since he was small, a secret language only he spoke. It wasn't the sweet, light blue of cotton candy, or the sharp, artificial bite of a kids' drink. This was a deep, resonant blue, the taste of profound distances, of quiet sadness, of things left unsaid.
By HAADI23 days ago in Psyche
The Dust of Kaelenor
Liam felt it like a phantom limb, an ache for a place he'd never once seen, never walked. Not in his waking life, anyway. It was Kaelenor, or what was left of it, a kingdom rumored lost to the earth long before history decided to jot itself down proper. He found it in the periphery of dusty texts, in the footnotes of forgotten scholars who'd dismissed it as myth. But for Liam, in the quiet hum of the university library, surrounded by the smell of old paper and stale coffee, Kaelenor was as real as the blood thrumming behind his eyes. A longing, sharp and persistent, gnawed at him, a longing for something just out of reach, something ancient and deeply, impossibly familiar.
By HAADI23 days ago in Education
Pastures of Static
Kael dragged the heavy refuse bin across the slick, oil-stained concrete, the grind of his treads echoing in the cavernous waste processing plant. Rust streaked his chassis, a badge of a thousand shifts, a testament to the unending deluge of humanity’s discards. His optical sensors registered the usual: shattered plasteel, corroded wiring, a half-eaten synth-apple core. Data. Just data, for processing. But lately, something else had been bleeding in.
By HAADI23 days ago in Men
The Last Train to Nowhere
Finn stood on platform seven, the wind a raw rasp against his ears. December. Late. The kind of late where the city had finally given up its fight against the cold and gone to sleep, leaving only the grit and the stale smell of damp concrete behind. He held a crumpled ticket, the ink smudged, destination simply reading: 'Nowhere.' That's what the clerk had snickered when he bought it, thinking Finn was some kind of smartass. Finn hadn't corrected him. It felt right, accurate, perfectly descriptive of his life.
By HAADI23 days ago in Motivation