Habibullah
Bio
Storyteller of worlds seen & unseen ✨ From real-life moments to pure imagination, I share tales that spark thought, wonder, and smiles daily
Stories (141)
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The Weaver's Truth
In a quiet corner of the city, tucked between a bakery and a bookshop, was Elara’s tailor shop, “The Mended Seam.” Its true treasure wasn't on display. It was a threadbare tailcoat of no particular color, hanging on a brass hook in the back, known only to those who were truly lost. Elara called it the Weaver’s Coat.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
The Maple Key
It began with a perfect day. The kind of autumn day that exists mostly in memory: the air was crisp, the sun was a gentle gold, and the maple trees in the park were a blazing cathedral of scarlet and orange. For Leo, a man whose life had become a grey blur of commutes and deadlines, it was a glimpse of heaven. As he sat on his favorite bench, a single, perfect, crimson maple key spiraled down and landed in his palm. He felt a jolt, a strange, static charge, and then… the world dissolved.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
The Twelve-Mile Home
For a decade, Leo’s life had been a study in motion. His identity was “super-commuter.” He lived in a neighbourhood called Oakwood, but his life was in the gleaming city center, twelve miles and two train rides away. His days were a blur of platforms, noise-canceling headphones, and the hypnotic rhythm of tracks. Oakwood was just the place where his apartment stored his stuff while he was gone.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
The Last Catalog
The Lennox Mansion Library was a mausoleum for books, and Elara was its reluctant caretaker. She was the last archivist before the wrecking ball turned two centuries of knowledge into dust. The city council had sold the land, deeming the building a rotting hazard. To Elara, each crumbling leather spine was a tragedy.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
The Maple Key
It began with a perfect day. The kind of autumn day that exists mostly in memory: the air was crisp, the sun was a gentle gold, and the maple trees in the park were a blazing cathedral of scarlet and orange. For Leo, a man whose life had become a grey blur of commutes and deadlines, it was a glimpse of heaven. As he sat on his favorite bench, a single, perfect, crimson maple key spiraled down and landed in his palm. He felt a jolt, a strange, static charge, and then… the world dissolved.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
The Pumpkin Patch Proxy War
The Harrington Hollow Pumpkin Patch was a symphony of autumn bliss, but to Chloe, it was a battlefield. The enemy was her entire social media feed, which was currently a barrage of flawless family photos: the Johnsons in matching flannel, the Chen twins artistically dwarfed by a giant pumpkin, the Millers sipping cider with golden-hour light haloing their perfectly tousled hair.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
The Oracle in the Gutter
Elara’s world was one of zoning laws, traffic-flow charts, and demographic projections. As a senior city planner, her job was to build the future with concrete and data. She was good at it. But she was also deeply, secretly disheartened. Her models always ended the same way: more grey, more density, more slow, grinding entropy.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
The Price of the Aesthetic
For Elara, Dark Academia wasn’t just a style; it was a religion. She didn’t just design rooms; she curated sanctuaries for the intellectual soul. Her signature was a perfect, brooding blend of mahogany bookshelves, cracked leather armchairs, vintage globes, and the lingering scent of old paper and ambition. Her clients were wealthy professionals who wanted to look like they’d inherited a library from a 19th-century Oxford don.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
The Perfect Match Was a Ghost
Leo’s dating life was a graveyard. A silent, digital graveyard filled with one-word replies, vanished matches, and the haunting phrase “Seen 8:42 PM.” He was considering deleting the “Spark” app for good when a new match notification popped up.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
The Pumpkin Spice Protest
The first leaf of autumn hadn't even hit the pavement before the world went mad. Pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin spice candles, pumpkin spice dog treats. To Agatha, owner of The Crusty Loaf bakery, it was an assault on the very dignity of the season. Autumn was for robust sourdough, for apple-cinnamon scones with real diced apple, for hearty rye breads. It was not, she declared to her empty shop, for "flavoring perfectly good coffee with what tastes like a candle shop fire."
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
The Moon and the Burning Forest
The world was ending in orange and ash. The ancient forest of Elmswood, a kingdom of oak and pine that had stood for a thousand years, was screaming. A careless spark from a forgotten campfire had become a ravenous beast, consuming everything in its path. The air was a solid, hot wall of smoke, and the roar of the flames was the only sound, a hungry, relentless god.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
