junaid ali
Stories (18)
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"Threads of Humanity"
When I first decided to travel across the world with nothing but a backpack and a camera, I thought I was simply collecting stories. I thought I would be a witness, a passerby, someone who observed the world and captured its beauty through my lens. But as I stood in the middle of a bustling market in Marrakech, surrounded by the sound of bargaining, the scent of spices, and the heat of the desert sun, I realized something else entirely. I wasn’t just observing—I was becoming part of something bigger.
By junaid ali4 months ago in Earth
"The Library Between Dreams"
I first found the library on a night when I couldn’t sleep. My mind had been restless all evening — racing thoughts, half-formed memories, a strange heaviness that kept me tossing in bed. Around three in the morning, I gave up on trying to force sleep and just let my eyes close. And that’s when I heard it: the faint creak of a door opening somewhere in the darkness of my mind.
By junaid ali4 months ago in BookClub
When the Windows Forgot to Close
The town of Wrenfield was the kind of place where even the birds knew not to sing too loudly. It wasn’t haunted by anything so cinematic as ghosts or murder, but rather by a silence that felt too heavy for its size—like a hush waiting to break.
By junaid ali6 months ago in Fiction
He Came When the Clocks Stopped
Natalie heard it — not the stopping, but the absence. The ticking of the living room wall clock had become background noise over the years, like the distant hum of traffic or the occasional creak of the old apartment building. But that night, its silence was sudden and complete.
By junaid ali6 months ago in Horror
The Password Was Her Name
Ethan Vale hadn’t slept in three days. The soft hum of his laptop filled the silence of his apartment. Lines of code scrolled endlessly down the screen, each keystroke fueled by caffeine and obsession. Somewhere buried in the encrypted vaults of a deceased megacorp executive’s abandoned server lay the key to everything—the truth about her.
By junaid ali6 months ago in Chapters
"The Last Thought She Never Had"
Margaret sat by the window, the soft light of the late afternoon casting long shadows across her small, cluttered apartment. Outside, the city buzzed with life—people hurrying home, children playing in the park, cars honking in the distance. But inside, silence reigned. The clock ticked steadily on the wall, counting down the moments she had left.
By junaid ali6 months ago in Fiction
Ink That Writes Itself
Elliot Morgan had never believed in magic. He spent his days restoring old books in a dim shop called The Dusty Spine, tucked between a dying florist and a locksmith who hadn’t opened in years. His life was made of paper cuts, cracked leather, and the soft, satisfying scent of aged parchment. It was quiet, predictable. Safe.
By junaid ali6 months ago in Fiction
