Mohammad Arif
Bio
I am health professional and freelance writer, who have 4 years of experience in the field of freelance writing. I also offer paraphrasing/rewriting services to my clients.I love to work on subjects like HEALTH & fitness, fashion, travel.
Stories (69)
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Love among the Haystacks. Chapter. 04
As they climbed the stacks a light stopped at the gate on the high road. It was Geoffrey, come to help his brother with the cloth. Afraid of his own intrusion, he wheeled his bicycle silently towards the shed. This was a corrugated iron erection, on the opposite side of the hedge from the stacks. Geoffrey let his light go in front of him, but there was no sign from the lovers. He thought he saw a shadow slinking away. The light of the bicycle lamp sheered yellowly across the dark, catching a glint of raindrops, a mist of darkness, shadow of leaves and strokes of long grass. Geoffrey entered the shed—no one was there. He walked slowly and doggedly round to the stacks. He had passed the wagon, when he heard something sheering down upon him. Starting back under the wall of hay, he saw the long ladder slither across the side of the stack, and fall with a bruising ring.
By Mohammad Arif4 years ago in Fiction
Love Among the Haystacks. Chapter. 03
Geoffrey worked sullenly all the afternoon, and Maurice did the horse-raking. It was exceedingly hot. So the day wore on, the atmosphere thickened, and the sunlight grew blurred. Geoffrey was picking with Bill—helping to load the wagons from the winrows. He was sulky, though extraordinarily relieved: Maurice would not tell. Since the quarrel neither brother had spoken to the other. But their silence was entirely amicable, almost affectionate. They had both been deeply moved, so much so that their ordinary intercourse was interrupted: but underneath, each felt a strong regard for the other. Maurice was peculiarly happy, his feeling of affection swimming over everything. But Geoffrey was still sullenly hostile to the most part of the world. He felt isolated. The free and easy intercommunication between the other workers left him distinctly alone. And he was a man who could not bear to stand alone, he was too much afraid of the vast confusion of life surrounding him, in which he was helpless. Geoffrey mistrusted himself with everybody.
By Mohammad Arif4 years ago in Fiction
Love Among the Haystacks. Chapter.01
The two large fields lay on a hillside facing south. Being newly cleared of hay, they were golden green, and they shone almost blindingly in the sunlight. Across the hill, half-way up, ran a high hedge, that flung its black shadow finely across the molten glow of the sward. The stack was being built just above the hedge. It was of great size, massive, but so silvery and delicately bright in tone that it seemed not to have weight. It rose dishevelled and radiant among the steady, golden-green glare of the field. A little farther back was another, finished stack.
By Mohammad Arif4 years ago in Fiction
A Few Tips for Facebook Users
The facilities available through social media have made communication easier. The use of sites and apps like Facebook, Whats App, Instagram, Twitter, etc. is expanding. The biggest problem is "Facebook" Its use has become a "drug" at the moment. Man checks "Facebook" as soon as he wakes up in the morning, updates his status from time to time.
By Mohammad Arif4 years ago in Lifehack
The Height of the Tree - The Forest Story
Once an old lion had established his dominance in a desolate forest. In the nearby valleys, cypresses were abundant, but in this forest, only Pohli, Karir and Zaqoom could be seen on all sides as far as the eye could see. Cats, foxes, wolves, bears and pigs have been appointed as the guardians of this young lion.
By Mohammad Arif4 years ago in Fiction
Farmer's Question, Poor Man's Answer
The story goes that there were once two farmers. They were both real brothers. The younger brother's name was Sultan and the older brother's name was Ikram. The younger brother was very poor and the older brother was rich. But the elder brother never helped the younger brother but he always told him that poverty is written in your destiny and you will always be poor and the poor will die.
By Mohammad Arif4 years ago in Fiction
