Muhammad Bilal
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Stories (55)
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The Last Lantern of Liora
In a world where the sun had disappeared a hundred years ago, the people of Liora lived beneath a sky of endless twilight. Crops had adapted, animals had evolved, and humans had survived—barely. But what remained constant was the fear of the ever-creeping Shadowlands, dark regions where light could not reach, and where strange creatures whispered from the void.
By Muhammad Bilal5 months ago in Fiction
The Last Golden Egg
Once upon a time in a small, peaceful village nestled between green hills and flowing rivers, there lived a poor farmer named Karim. He owned a tiny mud house, a worn-out plow, and five skinny hens that hardly laid eggs. Life was hard, but Karim was kind-hearted and never complained.
By Muhammad Bilal5 months ago in Fiction
The Weight of the Head
Hamza had always considered himself strong. At 32, he worked long hours at his desk job in Lahore, managed his home responsibly, and rarely complained. But there was something silently growing in his life — a dull, nagging pain in his neck that started like a whisper and soon became a shout.
By Muhammad Bilal5 months ago in Humans
The Last Skyflame
In the quiet mountain village of Velmere, the sun had not risen in seven years. Thick clouds hung like a curse over the land, choking the sky with endless gray. Crops withered. Lakes froze. Children were born without laughter, and elders died without warmth. The villagers whispered of a time when the sun once painted the mountains gold—but those were only stories now.
By Muhammad Bilal5 months ago in Fiction
Whispers in the Grain
The village of Blackreed was surrounded by endless farmland, its golden fields stretching to the horizon. It had been a good harvest year—too good. The wheat grew twice as tall, heavy and thick, but it came with a strange price: birds stopped flying over the village, dogs refused to enter the fields, and a low humming sound could be heard at night, like wind whispering secrets through the stalks.
By Muhammad Bilal5 months ago in Horror
The Last Dead Body
The village of Greyhollow had been silent for months. Once brimming with the warm laughter of farmers and the clang of blacksmiths, it now lay buried under a thick quilt of ash and dust. The disease had come suddenly—Black Whisper, they called it. A shadow that slipped into lungs and hearts, leaving only stiff bodies and shattered homes. The world outside had forgotten Greyhollow, or perhaps chosen to forget. Roads were barricaded. No one came. No one left.
By Muhammad Bilal5 months ago in Horror
The Crow Across Cultures
In the vast realm of birds, few have inspired as much fascination, fear, and symbolism as the crow. Black-feathered and intelligent, the crow is found in various parts of the world — and almost everywhere, it holds a significant place in myth, folklore, and human imagination. But what’s most interesting is that the meaning of the crow varies greatly from culture to culture. In one country, it may be a messenger of death; in another, a symbol of wisdom and transformation.
By Muhammad Bilal5 months ago in Education
The Dogs of Willow Lane
At the very end of Willow Lane stood a modest little house surrounded by trees, flowers, and laughter. It wasn’t fancy. The paint was chipped, the fence leaned to one side, and the roof sometimes leaked in heavy rain. But every person in town knew that house. Not because of the house itself—but because of the dogs.
By Muhammad Bilal5 months ago in Fiction
The Whispering Cellar
The village of Windmoor was a place people passed through, never staying long. The hills were always misty, the air unusually cold, and the townspeople tight-lipped. They would glance nervously toward the woods but never speak about the old Harridan House—not after dark, not even in whispers.
By Muhammad Bilal5 months ago in Horror
The Whispering Tree
In the quiet village of Noorabad, nestled between golden fields and deep forests, there stood an ancient tree—its branches twisted like the fingers of an old storyteller. No one knew exactly how long it had been there, but everyone called it The Whispering Tree. It was said to speak when the wind was just right—softly, like a lullaby, and only to those who dared to truly listen.
By Muhammad Bilal5 months ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Wind
In a lush, hidden valley nestled between towering green mountains and sparkling rivers, lived a tiny hummingbird named Luma. Her feathers shimmered in the sunlight—emerald green on her back and ruby red on her throat. But it wasn’t just her colors that made her special. Luma had something more—a heart full of dreams.
By Muhammad Bilal5 months ago in Fiction
