Mohammad Shariful Islam
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šWelcome to my profileš. I share Technology articles, fitness guides,Islamic stories, horror stories. Stay updated with SEO-friendly,informative and engaging content!š„
Stories (2)
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The Light of Forgiveness. AI-Generated.
1. From Darkness to Light: Amir was once a restless and arrogant young man from a quiet village. He had no connection with prayer or the Quran. His days were spent hanging out with friends, listening to loud music, and wasting time. Whenever the mosqueās muezzin called the adhan (call to prayer), Amir would turn up the volume of his radio to drown it out. His mother, Hamidah, was a beautiful woman. Every night, she would rise for Tahajjud prayer and cry to Allah, making one sincere dua: āO Allah, guide my son. Show him the path of truth.ā
By Mohammad Shariful Islam7 months ago in Poets
The shadow. AI-Generated.
Amtola was the name of the quiet village, which was far from the city, surrounded by ancient trees, and had an eerie silence. At the villageās edge stood a centuries-old, crumbling mansion: Chandan Villa. Even during the day, people avoided going near it. The road that leads there was completely empty at night. A young writer by the name of Jack came from the city about a year ago, looking for ideas for his next book. The tranquil village seemed perfect for him because he valued solitude. However, he had no idea what lay ahead. Jack chose to stay in Chandan Villa itself. He was warned by the villagers, "Sir, that house has a curse on it. People enter but never exit. Teertho replied with a grin, "There are no ghosts." The mind alone can create fear. The first night went by without a hitch. The second did as well. However, on the third night, he was awoken by an odd creaking sound. He looked at his watchāit was 2:00 a.m. Grabbing his flashlight, he stepped out of his room. In the dim moonlight, the corridor was faintly visible. Suddenly, he noticed a shadowy figure in the far corner. It had no face or distinct featuresājust a dark silhouette, completely still yet clearly aware of his presence. Without a sound, it glided toward the old wellā¦ and vanished. The next morning, Jack asked an elderly villager, āDoes anyone still use that well?ā "That's where Rose, the zamindar's daughter, took her own life," the man responded. A cruel man had orchestrated her marriage. One night, she jumped into the well. Since then, her shadow has been seen wandering around. People say sheās still searching for her lost loveā¦ā Jack made the decision to go back to the well the next night out of a sense of empathy and curiosity. The shadow reappeared, this time more clearly, as he waited in silence. A woman with sad eyes and long, disheveled hair in a white, wet sari. Jack calmly asked, "Who are you?" despite his fear. The figure didn't say anything. She turned slowly toward the well. Just before disappearing into the mist, Jack heard a faint whisper: āMy loveā¦ Will you returnā¦?ā He realized that this was more than just a haunting; it was the agony of a soul entwined in love that never came. The next day, he searched the village archives and discovered that Rose had fallen in love with a humble music teacher. The zamindar, her father, was against the relationship. Rumor had it the teacher had vanished mysteriously. Many people thought that the zamindar had killed him. Determined to help Roseās soul find peace, Jack returned that night with an old sitar. Sitting beside the well under the moonlight, he began playing the teacherās favorite raag. The melody drifted through the night like a prayer. Soon, the shadow returned. She moved closerāher eyes now filled with longing, not grief. Suddenly, a gust of wind swept across the courtyard. From deep within the well, a voice echoed: "Rose... I'm here..." Jack watched in awe as another shadowy figure emergedātall, gentle, and familiar to her. Slowly, the two shadows got closer to one another. The moonlight became more brilliant. Like mist blending into the dawn, the shadows embraced in the stillness and slowly rose into the sky together. The next morning, when Jack shared what had happened, an old villager said softly, āWhat we couldnāt do for a hundred years, you have done, sir. You brought peace to a restless soul.ā Jack didnāt spend another night in that house. He had come in search of a story, but he found a truth instead: some spirits donāt want to harmāthey simply seek peace. And true loveā¦ endures, even beyond death.
By Mohammad Shariful Islam7 months ago in Horror
