ibrahimkhan

Joined May 2025

39 stories

Stories (39)

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The Heart of Hollow Forest
They called it Hollow Forest not because it was empty, but because it seemed to echo with something unseen—something waiting.
By ibrahimkhan8 months ago in Art
After the Quiet
When the Quiet came, it didn’t arrive with thunder or terror. It was not a war, nor a plague, nor a fire. It was simply… silence.
By ibrahimkhan8 months ago in Horror
Two Shoes in the Sand
The beach was quiet that morning. The kind of quiet that only came after the storm had passed. The air was still heavy with salt and damp, and the sky, though clearing, held streaks of bruised gray clouds retreating toward the horizon.
By ibrahimkhan8 months ago in Chapters
Echoes in the Elderwood
The village of Blackthorn lay on the edge of the Elderwood, a sprawling forest that few dared to enter. It was not that the forest was particularly dangerous—at least, not in any way one could understand with human senses—but there was something in the air there, something that made every person who had the misfortune to wander too deep feel… unsettled.
By ibrahimkhan8 months ago in History
Where the Rain Waits
The rain had fallen every day since Mara arrived in Larkspur Bay. Not in storms or violent tempests, but in a soft, persistent drizzle, like a memory the sky couldn't forget.
By ibrahimkhan8 months ago in History
A Door in the Fog
The fog rolled in just after midnight, the kind that swallowed everything in silence—the trees, the houses, even the stars. Elia stood at the edge of the field, the wet grass brushing her ankles, heart pulsing as if the mist itself had stirred it awake.
By ibrahimkhan8 months ago in Chapters
The Last Sip of Autumn
The wind whispered softly through the thinning branches of the maple trees, scattering golden leaves across the cobblestone path. Emma pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, the crisp air of late autumn brushing against her cheeks with a gentle chill. She walked slowly, savoring each step, knowing these were the last few days before winter would cloak the town in its quiet, frosty embrace.
By ibrahimkhan8 months ago in Writers
Whispers of the Wildwood
The Wildwood had no marked paths. No signs. No welcoming gates. Just the hush of green shadows and the low murmur of leaves that spoke only to those who dared to listen.
By ibrahimkhan8 months ago in History
The Forest Beyond the Fog
They say the fog never lifts beyond the ridge. That once you pass the stone archway near the old mill, the mist becomes thick enough to swallow your voice, your footsteps—your way back.
By ibrahimkhan8 months ago in Wander
Paper Hearts
The attic always smelled of dust and lavender. Emily hadn’t stepped foot in it since the day her grandmother passed, not because it was forbidden, but because it held the weight of memory—carefully folded and left untouched.
By ibrahimkhan8 months ago in Art
The Space Between Water and Fish
When Elias was eight years old, his mother brought him to the lake for the first time. It was a quiet place, rimmed with tall reeds and dotted with lily pads like scattered thoughts. A place where the wind only spoke in whispers and the sun slipped through the trees like a secret.
By ibrahimkhan8 months ago in History
The Space Between Hello and Goodbye
No one remembers the exact moment when something ends. The moment it changes? Maybe. But endings—true endings—often come in quiet echoes, long after the final goodbye.
By ibrahimkhan8 months ago in Humans