Muhammad Wisal
Stories (53)
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The Mirror Doesn’t Lie
The mirror arrived in a wooden crate without a return address. Clara found it on her porch one chilly October morning, nestled beside her jack-o'-lanterns. It was ornate, tall, with curling gold filigree, more baroque than anything she'd ever buy for herself. She assumed it was a gift from her sister, always the one for dramatic gestures. The note inside read simply: "For reflection. Some truths don’t need eyes to see."
By Muhammad Wisal7 months ago in Horror
The One Who Lives in Dreams
The first time I saw him, I was five years old. It was one of those winter nights when the world outside my window had turned into a silent painting, all white and silver, glowing beneath the moonlight. I remember the shadows of bare trees dancing across my ceiling, and the way the frost etched delicate stars on the glass. I couldn't sleep, so I lay staring up at the sky through my window when I saw him.
By Muhammad Wisal7 months ago in Fiction
Vows Between Heartbeats
The storm arrived just past midnight. Rain tapped against the windows like impatient fingers. Thunder rolled through the sky, loud enough to rattle picture frames. But inside the small house on Maple Street, it was warm, soft-lit, and silent—except for the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor beside the bed.
By Muhammad Wisal7 months ago in Fiction
Throne of Love
In a kingdom surrounded by forests of silver trees and rivers that shimmered under the moonlight, there lived a young king named Cassian. He had inherited the crown at just twenty-one after the sudden death of his father. Though wise beyond his years, Cassian carried a heavy heart. The people of Eldoria adored him, but the burden of ruling alone weighed on him more than the crown upon his brow.
By Muhammad Wisal7 months ago in Fiction
