HAFSA

Joined July 2025

26 stories

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Stories (26)

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The Clockmaker’s Last Wish
I never expected to inherit anything from Grandfather Thorne. He was a quiet man—reclusive, obsessed with gears and pendulums, the kind who measured life in ticks rather than years. He barely spoke at family gatherings, only ever whispering to the clocks he built. Some said he went mad after Grandma passed. Others said he was always a little… misaligned.
By HAFSA6 months ago in Fiction
The Library That Only Opens at Midnight
I first found the midnight library by accident. I was a second-year literature student, weighed down by essays, caffeine, and the kind of insomnia that made the night stretch longer than it should. That particular night, a storm had knocked out the power in my dorm. With nothing but my phone flashlight, I wandered out, craving something—anything—that wasn’t the stale air of my room.
By HAFSA6 months ago in Fiction
I Attended My Own Funeral
The last thing I remember was the crash. A deafening screech of metal against metal. Then silence. When I opened my eyes again, everything felt... distant. Like I was underwater but breathing air. Colors were muted, sounds muffled.
By HAFSA6 months ago in Horror
I Bought a Clock That Ticks Backward
It started with a garage sale. Not one of those friendly, lemonade-stand affairs. This one was run by an old man with clouded eyes, leaning against a porch that looked like it had seen the Great Depression twice.
By HAFSA6 months ago in Horror
Where the Rain Forgets to Fall
No one remembers when the rain stopped falling on Nareth. Not because it happened suddenly—no, it was so gradual that by the time anyone noticed, it felt like it had always been that way. The sky above the village was always a soft, gentle blue. Clouds wandered by like lazy sheep but never gathered. Never threatened. Never cried.
By HAFSA6 months ago in Fiction
Dreams I Never Dreamed
I never remembered my dreams. Not one. Not ever. People always talked about floating, flying, falling—meeting dead relatives, solving math problems, or waking up crying. But for me, sleep was just a black screen. Eight hours of silence, and then a new day.
By HAFSA6 months ago in Fiction
Everyone in Town Looks Like Me
I found the town by accident—or maybe it found me. It was supposed to be a simple weekend drive. Just me, my thoughts, and a map I never looked at. I’d been burned out for months: no calls, no love, no real direction. So I let the road lead me, hoping to outrun the noise inside my head.
By HAFSA6 months ago in Fiction
What My Shadow Told Me
I first noticed something strange with my shadow on the morning of my twenty-ninth birthday. The sun cast long, sleepy rays into my apartment, and as usual, I moved toward the window with a mug of lukewarm coffee and the same tired eyes that had watched years pass me by. But that morning, my shadow didn’t follow me.
By HAFSA6 months ago in Fiction
Things You Can’t Say Out Loud
Things You Can’t Say Out Loud I’m tired of pretending I’m fine, Of painting smiles over cracks inside. The fears that twist beneath my skin,
By HAFSA6 months ago in Poets
The Day Everyone Forgot My Name
I woke up on a Wednesday and no one knew who I was. Not my mom. Not my dad. Not the barista at the café I visited every morning for the past two years who always wrote Lena on my cup with a little smiley face under the “a.” That morning, she stared at me blankly, waiting for a name.
By HAFSA6 months ago in Fiction
Room 318 Wasn’t on the Map
You don’t notice strange things until you’ve done the same thing a hundred times. That’s what I kept telling myself. I’ve worked at the Bellridge Inn for three years now. It’s a boutique hotel tucked into the edge of a sleepy mountain town, with old wallpaper, creaky elevators, and the kind of history that never made it to the brochures. My job? Housekeeping. Mondays to Saturdays. Clean, reset, restock. No drama.
By HAFSA6 months ago in Horror
My Roommate Is a Time Traveler
It started with the doorknob. Our dorm room had a cheap brass knob that clicked loudly when turned — the kind you couldn’t sneak past if you tried. But every night, between 2:00 and 2:10 a.m., it never made a sound. No creak, no click. Just empty space where a person used to be.
By HAFSA6 months ago in Fiction