Muhammad Hamza Safi
Bio
Hi, I'm Muhammad Hamza Safi — a writer exploring education, youth culture, and the impact of tech and social media on our lives. I share real stories, digital trends, and thought-provoking takes on the world we’re shaping.
Stories (68)
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The Mirror of Forgetting
The first time Elara touched the mirror, it whispered her name. It was tucked in the attic of her grandmother’s house, behind dusty trunks and shelves stacked with books too brittle to open. The frame was carved with roses and vines, and the glass shimmered like moonlight on still water. She had gone up looking for her childhood sketchbooks. She found something far stranger.
By Muhammad Hamza Safi8 months ago in Fiction
The Dream That Binds Us
Nobody remembers when the dreaming began. Some say it started after the war, others say it began when the last train left the station, rusting quietly on its tracks as vines claimed its wheels. But in Evershade, a village tucked between mist-covered hills, everyone dreams the same dream—every night.
By Muhammad Hamza Safi8 months ago in Fiction
The Dream That Bound Us All
Every night, the people of Velmir dreamed the same dream. They would lie down in their little homes—men and women, children and elders—and the moment sleep overtook them, they’d find themselves walking a single, winding road under the same silver sky. The air always smelled of honey and smoke. The trees whispered the same words. And at the end of the path, a golden door shimmered.
By Muhammad Hamza Safi8 months ago in Writers
The Girl Who Painted Doors
Mina had always been strange. In a village where everyone lived and died without ever leaving, she spoke of cities in the sky and oceans made of light. While others picked apples and swept porches, Mina painted. Not portraits or pretty scenery. She painted doors.
By Muhammad Hamza Safi8 months ago in Humans
Through the Broken Mirror
When Mira’s grandmother died, the house was left to her—a weathered old place on the edge of town, overgrown and half-forgotten. The kind of place people whispered about but never visited. Mira didn’t remember much from her childhood summers there—only vague images: an attic full of books, the scent of lavender, and an old mirror in the hallway that always gave her chills.
By Muhammad Hamza Safi8 months ago in Psyche
