Nadeem Khan
Bio
Writing is my passion; I like writing about spoken silence, enlightened darkness and the invisible seen. MY Stories are true insight of the mentioned and my language is my escape and every word is a doorway—step through if you dare.........
Stories (9)
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A secret beyond the ego
They said the mind could heal in silence but Cathy didn’t believe it—until she came back to the farm. Her father’s death had pulled her out of the city, out of her sterile office and failed career in psychology. She called it a break. The truth was, she was broken, tired of talking people out of pain she hadn’t resolved in herself.
By Nadeem Khan 6 months ago in Psyche
Fading Thoughts
The rain had fallen all the night long and a steady murmur was there that whispered against the cracked windowpane of Room 304. Morning arrived not with sunlight but with a bruised sky and shadows that clung like cobwebs to the corners of the peeling walls. Abu sat in pensive mood at the edge of a thin metal-framed bed, fingers idly tracing the furs of his sweater. The room smelled of mildew and dust—like forgotten dreams.
By Nadeem Khan 6 months ago in Confessions
That Pregnant Pause
The sky looked like it was forgetting how to hold its own color. Sara sat on the edge of the old park bench, fingers tracing invisible shapes on the worn wood. Around her, leaves hurried across the ground like scattered thoughts. Autumn was shedding, as if the world itself were in the act of quiet release.
By Nadeem Khan 6 months ago in Humans
The Wooden Door
Julia had warned Ben not to go near that strange house. They had only just arrived in the quiet solitary village to have an escape from the noise of the city and the silence of their own grief. There was an enormous loss hung between them like endkess smoke. They couldn't forget and they couldn't speak of it; not yet.
By Nadeem Khan 6 months ago in Families
The pricked soul
An ancient town was nameless perhaps and lying deserted and solitary. The inhabitants were strange and looking oppressed as by some great calamity. Beneath crooked rooftops and soot-stained walls, the world moved in whispers. Among those whispers lived a boy named John, a name few called him by. Most people use to call that wretched boy with a twist of pity or contempt.
By Nadeem Khan 6 months ago in Humans
The nameless envelope
That envelope was an old one and had nothing written on it. It was just there—resting on the worn welcome mat of Clara Dalton’s creaky farmhouse porch. Morning fog wrapped around the house like breath held too long. The air tasted of pine and memory, and the envelope looked oddly... alive against the gray world.
By Nadeem Khan 6 months ago in Humans
No Fair Worry
One evening on midsummer day cooling wind was blowing gently through the orchard leaves carrying the scent of ripe guavas and damp earth to long distances. Roma standing barefoot in the middle of the orchard; her hands on her hips and watching intently the to the fruit trees. She had always loved this hour of the day—when the world grew quiet and serene.
By Nadeem Khan 6 months ago in Writers
The Broken Toys
The small decrepit room was thoroughly silent and filthy as if time itself had gone to sleep beneath the cobwebs. Afnan hadn’t been in this room since he was a boy. Now decades later, the old wooden house in his native village was almost empty and deserted; echoing with the memories of voices no more. He was here to search through what remained—faded photographs, worn-out books and one specific thing he couldn’t ignore was the trunk.
By Nadeem Khan 6 months ago in Humans
