Shehzad Anjum
Bio
I’m Shehzad Khan, a proud Pashtun 🏔️, living with faith and purpose 🌙. Guided by the Qur'an & Sunnah 📖, I share stories that inspire ✨, uplift 🔥, and spread positivity 🌱. Join me on this meaningful journey 👣
Stories (126)
Filter by community
The Last Message in the Rain – Part 4: Shadows of the Past
The storm was a beast that night, its fury lashing against Elara’s home with a force she had never felt before. The thunder rumbled through the hills like some ancient, forgotten warning, and each flash of lightning fractured the darkness, casting jagged shadows across her kitchen floor.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Horror
The Last Message in the Rain – Part 3: Shadows on the Page
The rain pounded against Nora’s apartment windows, a relentless drumbeat that seemed to echo the anxiety building in her chest. Each raindrop felt like it carried a warning, and the air in her small apartment grew heavy with the sense of being watched. She had locked every door, checked every window twice, and turned on every light she could find. Still, the oppressive feeling wouldn’t go away.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Horror
The Last Message in the Rain – Part 2: Shadows in the Attic
The rain came back two nights later, pounding against Anna’s windows as if it had a message of its own to deliver. Each drop was like a warning, a steady drumbeat of doom that rattled the dishes in her kitchen. Thunder cracked so loudly it felt as though the sky itself was splitting apart.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Horror
The Last Message in the Rain
It was always raining when the letters came. Elise Harding hadn’t been looking for anything unusual when she came home that evening, just a quiet night after a long day at work. Her umbrella was dripping as she walked up to her door, the air thick with the smell of rain. She reached for her keys, but then something caught her eye—a pale blue envelope, stuck to the door. No name. No stamp. Just a deep red wax seal that glinted in the dim light.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Horror
Weightless Wonders
We’ve all seen those “before-and-after” weight loss photos online — glowing smiles, toned bodies, captions promising quick results. But the truth? My journey was nothing like that. There was no magic pill, no strict diet, no personal trainer.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Lifehack
Killed by His Own Child
In Faisalabad lived Iftikhar Ahmed, a quiet, hardworking mechanic. His hands were always stained with grease, but his heart carried nothing except dreams for his only son, Sameer. Life was never easy—he earned just enough to cover rent, feed his family, and save a little for his boy’s future. Yet he never once complained. His greatest wish was simple: to see Sameer climb higher than he ever could.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Families
Her Hands Smell of Petrol, Not Pity
In the narrow, sun-scorched streets of a small town in Pakistan, a three-wheeled motorcycle rattles its way through traffic. On its cart sit rows of recycled glass bottles, each one filled with petrol. The driver, Wali Khan, steers with his left hand—the only one that still works. His right hand and leg remain lifeless, paralyzed since the night tragedy struck in 2018.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Motivation
Addicted by Design
Every day, millions of us tap open our favorite apps—liking photos, scrolling through memes, sharing stories. It feels harmless, even fun. But behind the endless feeds and filters lies a hidden truth: these platforms aren’t designed to empower us. They’re designed to control us.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Psyche
Wings Without Landing
A Father’s Sacrifice Shabbir Ahmed did not have big aspirations—just one. America. In 2005, after years of grinding through Karachi’s noisy streets as a van driver, he had finally secured a chance: a truck-driving job in New Jersey. His passport was stamped. His ticket deposit was paid. He had even imagined the wide highways he would drive across.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Families
The Boy Who Traded His Books for Bricks
Sajid's hands at seventeen had more practice of the feel of the weight of bricks than of books, but his eyes still chased a lost dream. It was in a little tea hotel set into a comer of a dirty street in Rawalpindi that the narrator first saw him. He was rushing from table to table with a tray of chipped cups and half-filled glasses of chai. His eyes cast respectfully downwards, his tone polite, but his smile was weighted and spoke of years of unuttered suffering.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Education
Whispers in the Sand
In the shadows of the mountains of Balochistan, where silence weighs more than rock and the desert wind whisks away secrets, two young hearts had chosen love. It was not rebellion. It was not adultery. It was the pure, holy choice of a man and a woman to marry each other by the law of Islam.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Humans
