Mushtaq Ahmad
Stories (23)
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Under Infinite Skies
They crossed paths in a moment that felt both new and eerily familiar—like the echo of a forgotten dream. In the heart of old Prague, as twilight painted the skyline with gold and shadows, Isabella darted into the Astronomical Clock Tower to escape a sudden downpour. She hadn't expected anyone to be there, much less a man standing silently near the window, gazing at the storm as though waiting for fate to arrive.
By Mushtaq Ahmad6 months ago in Fiction
Strings of the Heart
Tucked away in a mist-covered valley was the humble village of Windmere, where people lived slow lives and secrets aged quietly. Among them lived an old cobbler named Elias, who spent his days hunched over worn-out boots in a shop that smelled of leather, glue, and memory.
By Mushtaq Ahmad7 months ago in Motivation
"The Seed of a Dream"
In a quiet, arid village nestled among sun-scorched hills and neglected paths, lived a boy named Arman. At 12 years old, his face bore the marks of a harsh life — sun-darkened skin, rough hands, and eyes that held more wisdom than joy. His family survived on little: a modest mud hut, a few animals, and dreams that seemed to fade quicker than the village’s only well could refill.
By Mushtaq Ahmad7 months ago in Education
The Lightkeeper’s Promise
In a sleepy coastal town named Puerto Sombra, where the waves lapped like lullabies and sea fog clung to the cliffs like old secrets, lived a woman named Rosa Marín. She was the town’s lighthouse keeper, a solitary figure often mistaken for a myth. With her wind-worn face and hair like storm clouds, people said she spoke more to seagulls than to neighbors—and listened more to the sea than to voices.
By Mushtaq Ahmad7 months ago in Fiction
“From Shadows to Spotlight”
In a quiet village nestled between dusty roads and sun-scorched fields, there lived a boy named Arjun. He wasn’t the kind of student anyone remembered — in fact, most people didn’t notice him at all. He always sat on the last bench in class, not because he liked it, but because he felt that was where he belonged — out of sight, out of mind.
By Mushtaq Ahmad7 months ago in Motivation
Whispers Beneath the Autumn Tree"
Whispers Beneath the Autumn Tree" Some loves never leave—they simply change the way they stay. Every autumn, the wind carried a memory—soft, familiar, and wrapped in the scent of something once deeply loved. Meera never feared silence; it was in silence that his memory spoke the loudest.
By Mushtaq Ahmad7 months ago in Fiction
Beneath the Olive Tree
It was the spring of 2009 in the quiet town of Nablus, nestled among the hills of Palestine. The scent of jasmine lingered in the air as olive trees swayed gently under the wind’s hush. Amid this beauty lived Yousuf, a young calligrapher known not for his words, but for the way he painted them. People said he could write Allah's name in a way that made your heart tremble.
By Mushtaq Ahmad7 months ago in Fiction
