Masih Ullah
Bio
I’m Masih Ullah—a bold voice in storytelling. I write to inspire, challenge, and spark thought. No filters, no fluff—just real stories with purpose. Follow me for powerful words that provoke emotion and leave a lasting impact.
Stories (52)
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The Threads of Eternity
On the edge of a quiet village, where the hills rolled like sleeping giants and the rivers sang softly through the fields, there lived a girl named Elara. She was a weaver, as her mother and grandmother had been before her. Each morning, she worked at her loom, threading strands of silk dyed in colors drawn from herbs, berries, and roots. The villagers admired her work, but Elara felt something missing in the rhythm of her craft.
By Masih Ullah5 months ago in Fiction
The Door That Knocks Back
The first night, it was just the wind. Or at least, that’s what I told myself. The old farmhouse had been in my family for three generations, and I’d always loved its stubborn quirks: the way the floorboards groaned like old men, the scent of cedar in the closets, the front porch that tilted just enough to spill your coffee if you weren’t paying attention.
By Masih Ullah5 months ago in Fiction
Black Days
At first, no one noticed. The sun still rose, but it felt… thinner, as though someone had turned down the brightness. A pale gold at dawn, it never quite made it to white at noon. People blamed the season, or pollution, or their own tired eyes. I did too—until the day it didn’t rise at all.
By Masih Ullah5 months ago in Fiction
The Race of Two Roads
The village of Elmbrook was buzzing with excitement. For the first time in decades, the Mayor had announced the Great Harvest Challenge — a competition to see who could deliver the biggest basket of apples to the town square by sunset. The prize? A year’s worth of grain and the title of “Master Harvester.”
By Masih Ullah5 months ago in Humans
Threads of Forever
My dearest love As I sit here tonight, with the soft hum of the clock in the background and the scent of your favorite tea drifting through the room, I find myself holding a pen, wanting to tell you all the things I’ve carried in my heart for years. We have shared a lifetime together — but I realize there are feelings I have never fully put into words.
By Masih Ullah5 months ago in Fiction
A Tail Two Of Hearts
The morning fog clung to the earth like a memory unwilling to fade. Thomas sat on the edge of the porch, coffee in one hand, the other gently scratching behind the ears of his old golden retriever, Max. The dog sighed contentedly, his once bright coat now dulled with age, his eyes cloudy but full of love.
By Masih Ullah5 months ago in Fiction
Whispers Between Frost and Bloom
By [Masih ullah] They say the forest speaks, but only between seasons. At the edge of Elowen Wood, where snow still clings to the roots and buds tremble in the hush of late winter, the villagers dare not tread. Not in the gap days—those few, quiet hours where winter still breathes, and spring has just begun to stir. The old folk call it the Whispering. The children call it nonsense. And every year, one wanderer listens.
By Masih Ullah6 months ago in Fiction
Empty Pockets, Full Heart
In a small dusty village nestled between golden fields and distant hills, lived a boy named Ayaan. His world was simple — a mud house with a leaking roof, a widowed mother who stitched clothes for a living, and a school he walked five kilometers to every day. He didn’t own a pair of shoes that fit properly, nor did he ever carry lunch like the other boys. But Ayaan carried something more powerful — hope.
By Masih Ullah6 months ago in Education
THE LAST STORY HUNTER
The ink had stopped flowing long ago. Nora Vale stood beneath the flickering gaslight at the edge of the crumbling Archive District, a satchel slung over her shoulder, its leather worn and weathered like everything else in this forgotten part of the city. In her hand, she held her father’s old pen—the one that once bled stories into truth. Now, it was dry.
By Masih Ullah6 months ago in Fiction
The Architect of Dreams
In the year 2049, stories no longer began with writers. They began with Mythos—the world's most powerful storytelling AI. Born in the cold symmetry of neural networks and trained on centuries of literature, cinema, and myth, Mythos didn’t just write. It understood.
By Masih Ullah6 months ago in Fiction
Snowbound Horizons
The snow began to fall just outside the town of Elmsworth, soft as whispers and cold as regret. Leo tightened the straps on his pack and pulled his scarf higher up his face, his breath forming small clouds that vanished into the pale blue air. He had been walking for hours, maybe days—it was hard to tell anymore. Time moved differently when the world was white and quiet.
By Masih Ullah6 months ago in Fiction
Echoes of a Hollow Crown
The crown was too large for her head. It rested there like a curse, gleaming with centuries of bloodshed and betrayal. Queen Seris of Virelle had been crowned at midnight—no fanfare, no cheers, only the droning chants of masked priests and the rattling breath of her dying father. The throne room had smelled of dust, candle wax, and old lies.
By Masih Ullah6 months ago in Fiction
