Taslim Ullah
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Stories (31)
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Between the Doctor and the Patient. AI-Generated.
The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic and quiet fear. Dr. Ayaan Malik stood outside Room 307, holding a file that felt heavier than paper should. It wasn’t the diagnosis that burdened him—he had delivered difficult news many times before—it was the name written on the first page.
By Taslim Ullah20 days ago in Humans
Think, Read, Discover. AI-Generated.
The first time Aarav opened the book, he did not expect it to change anything. It was an ordinary afternoon, the kind that felt heavy with silence and unfinished thoughts. Outside, the wind brushed against the window as if trying to say something important, but inside his room, everything felt still. The book lay on his desk, its cover plain, its title unfamiliar. He had picked it up because it was assigned, not because he was curious. Reading, to Aarav, had always been a task—something to complete, underline, and forget.
By Taslim Ullah28 days ago in BookClub
Threads of Us. AI-Generated.
We were born two years apart, but somehow, it always felt like we shared the same breath. My sister Aaliya and I weren’t just siblings; we were co-conspirators in mischief, partners in crime, and occasional sworn enemies over TV remote battles.
By Taslim Ullah6 months ago in Fiction
The Quiet Love
The sun dipped low behind the curtain, casting long golden shadows across the living room. The clock ticked on the wall, rhythmic and patient, like the heartbeat of a home that had endured much and asked for little. Fatima folded the freshly laundered clothes while Irfan sat across the room, reading the newspaper in silence. No music played. No laughter echoed. Yet, something far deeper than noise filled the room — something sacred, something unspoken.
By Taslim Ullah7 months ago in Fiction
Veil of Silence
The air was thick with moisture, as if the sky itself had sunk into a deep, quiet grief. Gentle raindrops tapped against the windowpane like a heart quietly breaking, piece by piece. Inside the dimly lit room, silence reigned — a heavy, echoing silence. Amidst it, Sarah sat on an old couch, flipping through the pages of her life like an old, worn-out diary.
By Taslim Ullah7 months ago in Fiction
Chalk Dust and Silence
The old classroom smelled of chalk, old wood, and forgotten dreams. Sunlight filtered through the dusty windows, casting faded stripes across the rows of worn desks. It was the last day before the school would shut down for good. The notice came quietly — funding cut, attendance low, the world had moved on. But Mr. Haroon hadn’t.
By Taslim Ullah7 months ago in Education
Where Love Waits in Silence
From the earliest memories of her childhood, Adeel had always been wrapped in the warmth of his mother’s arms. Her lap was his pillow, her prayers his shield, and her smile the first thing he sought every morning. Adeel loved his mother deeply — more than words could measure. But life, as it often does, changed rhythm after marriage.
By Taslim Ullah8 months ago in Families
The Sip That Stopped Time
In a sleepy corner of the old city, where the streets still whispered the songs of simpler days and the air was thick with the scent of clay, spice, and fading sunlight, sat a man who didn’t seem to belong to the race of the world anymore.
By Taslim Ullah8 months ago in Fiction
The Thinker in the Corner
In a small, dimly lit room painted with the faint warmth of a dusty peach-colored wall, a man reclined casually against the headboard of a creaky old bed. A pencil hung between his lips—not because he had forgotten about it, but because it belonged there, like a soldier ready to draw his sword at any moment. His uncombed hair crowned his head like a forest left untamed, and his eyes, half-aware of the world, gazed into the spaces most others didn’t dare to peer into. He was not idle. He was thinking.
By Taslim Ullah8 months ago in Writers
