MUHAMMAD SAIF
Stories (19)
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Whispers Beneath the Willow
Elena had always been drawn to the old willow tree at the edge of her grandmother’s property. Its long, silver-tipped branches swayed in the wind, brushing the ground like fingers reaching for secrets. As a child, she had believed the tree whispered stories of those who came before her. Now, at twenty-eight, she returned to the small town of Willow Creek, seeking the quiet she had long abandoned in the city’s chaos.
By MUHAMMAD SAIF4 months ago in Fiction
The Last Lantern in Willowbrook
The Last Lantern in Willowbrook BY (MR.SAIF) The little village of Willowbrook had always been proud of its lights. Long before electricity reached their cobblestone streets, the villagers hung lanterns at every corner, their golden glow guiding travelers and comforting children on stormy nights. The lanterns were more than just practical—they were symbols of safety, togetherness, and endurance.
By MUHAMMAD SAIF5 months ago in Fiction
The Clock That Forgot Time. AI-Generated.
The attic smelled of cedar and dust, the kind of place where secrets hid behind boxes and the light never quite reached the corners. Eleven-year-old Lila pressed her palms against her knees as she crawled through stacks of old trunks and moth-bitten coats. Her grandmother had asked her to fetch a quilt for the winter, but Lila’s curiosity always had a way of guiding her elsewhere.
By MUHAMMAD SAIF5 months ago in Fiction
The Library of Unwritten Letters
The Library of Unwritten Letters BY (MR.SAIF) Ethan Marlowe had been living by himself for three years. Since the passing of his wife Claire, the days had merged into a dull, unvarying flow. He continued to hold onto her slippers near the bed, her beloved mug in the cupboard, as though she could come back. Yet sorrow is peculiar—it propels you forward even when you sense you've ceased to exist.
By MUHAMMAD SAIF5 months ago in Fiction
The Painter of Forgotten Faces
The Painter of Forgotten Faces BY (MR.SAIF) Julian Hale had consistently been a regular painter. His small apartment had the scent of turpentine and old coffee, while his paintings went largely unnoticed by others. He created depictions of street life, still lifes, and sometimes portraits for a modest fee. However, no gallery was interested in his art, and no critic lauded him.
By MUHAMMAD SAIF5 months ago in Fiction
The Last Library at the End of the World. AI-Generated.
The year was 2147, and words had been outlawed. Screens ruled the world now—short bursts of images, endless noise, hollow distractions. Books had been burned decades ago during the Silence Act, when the ruling Council declared that written stories were dangerous. They said books gave people “too much memory and too much imagination.”
By MUHAMMAD SAIF5 months ago in Fiction
The Painter of Forgotten Dreams. AI-Generated.
Adrian Hale was a painter who had long stopped believing in himself. His canvases collected dust in a small attic studio, ignored by galleries and unseen by the world. Once, he had painted with fire in his soul, chasing dreams of capturing emotions too fragile for words. Now, his brushes lay idle, their bristles stiff, his hands too tired to chase inspiration.
By MUHAMMAD SAIF5 months ago in Fiction
