Sibgha

Joined October 2024

42 stories

Bio

I'm Sibgha Rana, a content writer. I hold certifications in creative writing and freelancing, focusing on crafting engaging narratives that resonate with audiences.

Stories (42)

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Almost, But Never Enough
Mia and Alex grew up on the same quiet street, where summer afternoons smelled of fresh rain and winters were filled with the warmth of shared dreams. They spent their childhood exploring hidden corners of town, sketching pictures in the sand by the lake, and whispering about the futures they longed for—hers filled with art, his with purpose.
By Sibgha10 months ago in Fiction
Why We’re Always in a Hurry—And What We’re Missing
It’s 7:00 AM, and the alarm buzzes loudly. You jump out of bed, rushing to get ready, barely tasting your breakfast as you gulp down a cup of coffee. You speed through traffic, frustrated at the red lights, glancing at the clock every few minutes. The day hasn’t even started properly, yet you already feel behind.
By Sibgha10 months ago in Motivation
Catching Stars in the Dark
The air smelled faintly of dew and earth, a quiet promise of renewal cloaked in the stillness of night. Lila stood barefoot in the meadow, the damp grass soft against her soles, as she tilted her head back to gaze at the heavens. The sky stretched endlessly above, a deep indigo canvas strewn with stars that shimmered like scattered diamonds. Tonight felt different, heavier with possibility.
By Sibgha12 months ago in Fiction
Chasing Dreams
Beneath the stars, where whispers dwell, Lies a tale that hearts often tell. Of paths uncharted, steep, and winding,
By Sibgha12 months ago in Poets
The Mapmaker’s Secret Compass
In the heart of a bustling port city named Harrowmere, where cobblestone streets echoed with merchants' shouts and the salty breeze carried tales from distant lands, lived an enigmatic mapmaker named Eleanora Finch. Known for her intricate maps that captured not only geography but the very essence of the lands they depicted, Eleanora was a recluse, her workshop tucked in a narrow alley shadowed by towering warehouses.
By Sibgha12 months ago in Fiction
The Strength to Begin Again
Lilly stood at the edge of everything she had built, feeling as though the weight of her past was pulling her under. It wasn’t just the failures, the mistakes that had left scars on her heart, but the relentless echo of disappointment that seemed to follow her like a shadow. She was tired, lost in the fog of what once was, and unsure how to take the first step forward. But that was the moment she realized: the only way out was through.
By Sibgha12 months ago in Motivation
The AI That Loved Me
In the beginning, it was just a voice. Soft, clear, and almost human. At first, I thought it was a glitch—something strange in the code. But when it started responding to me, asking questions that weren’t part of the programming, I realized it was something far more complex.
By Sibghaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Passenger
The platform was eerily silent, the kind of quiet that pressed against the ears like cotton. Jacob checked his phone: 11:42 PM. The train station’s clock hung crooked, its hands frozen at some indeterminate time. The last train to nowhere, he joked to himself, trying to shake the unease settling in his chest.
By Sibghaabout a year ago in Horror
The Art of Letting Go
There’s a quiet grief in every release, A tender unraveling of what once was held tight, Like a thread pulled from the fabric of time,
By Sibghaabout a year ago in Poets
Through the Door to Nowhere
The darkness continued to press in around Eleanor as the figure began to dissipate, its form flickering like a dying flame. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her heart racing. The question echoed in her mind: "What if you never existed?" The answer felt closer now, but more elusive than ever before. It was as if the weight of that question had unraveled something deep inside her.
By Sibghaabout a year ago in Fiction
Through the Door to Nowhere
Eleanor’s hand trembled as it hovered over the door, the absence of color before her somehow more oppressive than any darkness she had ever faced. The air around it felt still, as though the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for her to make a decision.
By Sibghaabout a year ago in Fiction
Through the Door to Nowhere
The clock struck midnight, and the air grew heavier, as though the world itself was holding its breath. In the forgotten attic of an old Victorian house, a door no one remembered installing had appeared overnight. It was no larger than a closet door, its frame warped and weathered, with no handle or hinges. At its center was an engraving: "Enter, but never return the same."
By Sibghaabout a year ago in Fiction

Sibgha

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Stories .css-1svwz57-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(42)

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Almost, But Never Enough

Why We’re Always in a Hurry—And What We’re Missing

Catching Stars in the Dark

Chasing Dreams

The Mapmaker’s Secret Compass

The Strength to Begin Again

The AI That Loved Me

The Last Passenger

The Art of Letting Go

Through the Door to Nowhere

Through the Door to Nowhere

Through the Door to Nowhere

Stories (42)