HAADI

Joined November 2025

349 stories

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Dark Side Of Our Society

Stories (349)

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The Glass Petals
Mary found herself staring at the crystal garden again, the one tucked into the sunroom's corner, under the dusty skylight. Thirty years. Thirty years since John had brought it home, a ridiculous, glittering monstrosity of spun glass and polished quartz, meant to capture light and refract it into a million promises. Now, it just sat there, a miniature cityscape of forgotten dreams, each delicate petal coated in a fine, grey film. A few of the slender stems had snapped, the tiny, polished facets dull where the light used to catch, make them burn. She reached out a hesitant finger, wiped a patch clean. It still had a shine, beneath all that grime, a faint, stubborn glow.
By HAADI26 days ago in Marriage
The Reverse Tick
Leo’s stomach was a clenched fist, a permanent fixture these days. Three months behind on rent, two weeks since he’d eaten anything but instant noodles, and the bank letters piled on his stoop like miniature headstones. He was a dead man walking, just hadn't found the shovel yet. That’s when he saw it, tucked away in the back of the grimiest pawn shop on Elm Street, glowing with a dull, unnatural sheen under a greasy display light. A mantelpiece clock, heavy brass, ornate carvings of vines and gargoyles, completely out of place next to the broken VCRs and bent golf clubs. And it was ticking backward.
By HAADI26 days ago in Criminal
The Static Hum
The air on the platform tasted like old rust and forgotten rain. Elias pulled the collar of his threadbare coat tighter, the fabric scratching at his neck. His duffel, one measly bag, felt lighter than the hollow ache in his chest, an ache that had burrowed deep and set up shop weeks ago. He watched the train pull in, a long, dark serpent of ancient steel, its breath a sigh of steam that dissipated quickly into the cold, a fleeting ghost in the fading light. This was it. The last one. The one to wherever.
By HAADI26 days ago in Psyche
The Last Train to Nowhere
Leo watched the platform lights smear into yellow streaks as the train pulled away. His worn backpack dug into his shoulders, a familiar ache, like everything else he carried. The ticket in his hand felt like a surrender, a final, flimsy declaration that he was done with all the striving, all the trying to fit. The scent of burnt oil and damp concrete lingered, a ghost of the city he'd just fled, a city that had never quite known what to do with a kid like him.
By HAADI26 days ago in Education
The Ledger of Dust
Elias pushed through the heavy oak doors, the groan of ancient hinges a familiar complaint. The air inside hit him, thick, dry, smelling of paper and something else, something like old memories and forgotten rain. Dust motes, tiny universes, swam in the weak light filtering through grimy arched windows high above. This place, the Grand Archives, it always felt like a tomb. Not a dead one, but one where every single whisper lingered, a faint hum against the silence. His worn boots scraped on the polished stone floor, each step too loud, too heavy.
By HAADI26 days ago in Men
The Weight of White
Michael’s eyes burned, the screen’s blue glare etched onto his retinas. Three AM. The cursor blinked, a mocking sentinel on the empty page. Seven years. Seven goddamn years he’d poured into this graphic novel, this sprawling, messy epic of a future he half-believed in. Now, the publisher’s email sat in his inbox, a blunt instrument: final draft by noon, or they walked. And here he was, staring at a blank page, the entire climax a formless dread in his gut.
By HAADI26 days ago in Motivation
The Weight of Pages
Eleanor’s boots crunched on the gravel drive, the sound too loud in the dead quiet of her father’s property. The house, a hulking Victorian beast, loomed against the bruised winter sky, its windows like vacant eyes. Three days after the funeral, and she was back, not because she wanted to be, but because the lawyers had called. And because, even in death, her mother’s silent plea lingered, a phantom tug at Eleanor’s gut. She pushed open the heavy oak door. The cold hit first, then the smell—old paper, damp earth, and something metallic, like forgotten pennies.
By HAADI27 days ago in Families
The Shard Below
The cold seeps into my bones quicker these days. Not just the ocean cold, though God knows there's plenty of that down at six hundred feet. No, this cold is older, colder. It's in the marrow, a reminder of what I saw, what I did, what I *didn't* do. I'm too old for this, my hands shaking even before I clip the lines, but I keep coming back. Gotta keep coming back.
By HAADI27 days ago in Confessions
The Shifting Spires of Azmar
Kael tasted salt, even above the surface. It clung to his tongue, a ghost of a thousand past dives, a promise of the depths waiting. His rig, a patched-up contraption of salvaged parts and rust, smelled of diesel and fear. Old Man Tibbs, a relic himself, squinted from the helm of 'The Scavenger', his face a roadmap of sun and hard living. "Current's turnin', boy," Tibbs rasped, his voice rough as barnacles. "She's gonna tug you down deep today. You sure about this?"
By HAADI27 days ago in Chapters
Rust and Reverie
Unit 734, designation 'Sev' in the internal monologue of his logic circuits, scraped along the slick, grimy underbelly of Sector 7. His chassis, a dull, oil-stained grey, whirred with the steady drone of a thousand hours spent sifting refuse. Primary directive: sanitation. Secondary: efficiency. Tertiary: waste processing. His world was a constant cycle of metallic scraping, chemical tang, and the sickeningly sweet decay of forgotten organic matter. Day in, day out, a predictable grind of gears and data packets. No surprises. No deviations. Just the slow, methodical clean.
By HAADI27 days ago in Lifehack
The Unspoken Glow
Leo shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, the cheap fabric of his jacket doing little against the damp chill creeping up his arms. The rain, a steady drizzle for an hour now, had turned the street into a dark, shimmering mirror. Headlights smeared into halos. Neon signs—the angry red of the bar down the block, the sickly green of the pharmacy, the stuttering blue of the laundromat across the street—bled into the puddles, distorting, elongating. Each reflection a broken promise, felt like. His breath plumed in front of him, thin and fleeting.
By HAADI27 days ago in Marriage
The Second Hand
The streetlamp flickered above, casting long, janky shadows that danced with the drizzle. Leo’s breath hitched, a raw, ragged sound stuck in his throat. Mickey, his partner, lay sprawled near the back door of Morelli’s Jewelry, a dark, growing stain blossoming on his chest. And the guard. Oh, God, the guard. He wasn’t moving, just a silent lump beside an overturned trash can, a cheap pistol still clutched in his hand. The alarm, a shrill, piercing shriek, ripped through the damp night air, drilling a hole right into Leo’s skull. His hands were shaking, not from cold, but from something far worse, a deep internal tremor that threatened to tear him apart.
By HAADI27 days ago in Criminal