Huzaifa Dzine
Bio
Hello!
my name is Huzaifa
I am student
I am working on laptop designing, video editing and writing a story.
I am very hard working on create a story every one support me pleas request you.
Thank you for supporting.
Stories (52)
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I Joined a Cult for Free WiFi
I Joined a Cult for Free WiFi A Broke College Student’s Caffeinated Descent into Questionable Devotion It started with a dead laptop battery, a drained bank account, and a desperate need to submit a sociology paper titled “Modern Isolation and Digital Dependency.” Ironically, I couldn’t submit it because I had no internet and was feeling very isolated.
By Huzaifa Dzine6 months ago in Humor
The Man Who Sold Time
The Man Who Sold Time In the year 2124, time was currency. Not metaphorically—literally. People had digital counters embedded in their forearms, glowing softly beneath the skin. These counters didn’t show money. They showed life. Minutes. Hours. Years.
By Huzaifa Dzine6 months ago in Fiction
If Silence Could Speak
If Silence Could Speak By [Huzaifa dzine] If Silence could speak, she would not raise her voice. She would slip into a room like dusk at the end of day—uninvited, inevitable. You wouldn’t notice her at first. You’d hear her in the pause after a slammed door, in the space between “I’m fine” and everything left unsaid. She would perch on your shoulder like a breath you forgot to take, waiting to be heard but never demanding.
By Huzaifa Dzine6 months ago in Poets
Recycled Memories
Recycled Memories By [Huzaifa dzine] I still remember the taste of her tears. Not my tears—hers, though somehow they passed through me like water through porous stone. I was seven, standing in Grandma Marguerite’s kitchen, listening to her whispers as she stirred the pot of bean soup. The wooden spoon clacked against the sides, but I heard something deeper: a trembling in her voice, a memory she carried like an heirloom passed down through generations.
By Huzaifa Dzine6 months ago in Poets
The Ghost in My Mirror
The Ghost in My Mirror By [Huzaifa dzine] Every morning, I see her. She stands just behind the foggy sheen of the mirror, where my reflection should be. Her eyes mimic mine, but they are older somehow—haunted. Her skin carries the same freckles I have, but they’ve turned pale like faded ink. Her shoulders slump with a weight I never agreed to carry. Still, she waits there every day, wordless but watching, as I splash water onto my face and pretend not to notice.
By Huzaifa Dzine6 months ago in Poets
My Poetry. I Love To write
My Poetry. I Love to Write I still remember the first poem I ever wrote. I was ten, sitting at the window of our small apartment, watching the rain paint gray streaks across the glass. The city below was quiet, muffled by the drizzle. Something about that stillness tugged at a string inside me. I grabbed a notebook and scribbled down a few lines. They didn’t rhyme. The rhythm was awkward. But when I read them aloud, something in me stirred.
By Huzaifa Dzine6 months ago in Poets
How to publish story on vocal media
How to Publish a Story on Vocal Media Rhea had been writing since high school—journals, short stories, even a few half-finished novels sitting forgotten on her laptop. But publishing her work? That was a different story. The idea always felt overwhelming. Where would she even start? Who would read her work? Was she good enough?
By Huzaifa Dzine6 months ago in Writers
