The Writer...A_Awan
Bio
16‑year‑old Ayesha, high school student and storyteller. Passionate about suspense, emotions, and life lessons...
Stories (119)
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The Last Call:. AI-Generated.
It became precisely middle of the night when the phone rang. Mira had just moved into her new condo—a quiet, dimly lit space tucked above an vintage book shop. She desired solitude, a place to forget the beyond. The rotary phone at the nightstand was vintage, a ornamental piece she’d discovered within the attic. It wasn’t related to something.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
The room That Knows Your Name:. AI-Generated.
The house become quiet whilst Daniel moved in, too quiet for an area that had stood for nearly a century. Its partitions carried the faint smell of dust and forgotten lives, however he liked the solitude. After years of chaos, he desired silence.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
The Forgotten Room:. AI-Generated.
The house had always been atypical, but Elena by no means observed until she moved returned after her grandmother’s dying. It was the sort of region that carried its very own silence, heavy and unbroken, as even though the partitions themselves have been listening. She had grown up here, but something felt unique now—like the residence have been anticipating her go back.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Horror
The Mirror That Remembers:. AI-Generated.
The reflect arrived wrapped in velvet, its body carved with roses that had long seeing that faded into thorns. Elena determined it in an antique store tucked away on a forgotten avenue, attracted to it with the aid of some thing she couldn’t explain. The shopkeeper had smiled knowingly whilst she bought it, whispering, “It recollects.”
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Horror
The Haunted family Home:. AI-Generated.
The house stood on the end of a slender lane, its windows shuttered, its partitions heavy with silence. for decades, the locals whispered about the circle of relatives who once lived there—their laughter echoing thru the halls, their tragedies carved into the wood. To outsiders, it was just any other abandoned building. To people who knew, it was a place wherein the beyond refused to die.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Horror
The Silent Hour: A Story of Waiting and Hope:. AI-Generated.
It was simply after nighttime while the power went out. The city, generally alive with neon lighting and stressed visitors, fell into an eerie silence. For a moment, the world appeared to pause. In that silence, tens of millions of humans throughout the globe have been reminded in their personal moments of waiting—moments whilst time itself felt suspended, while the future was unsure, and while hope was the handiest element keeping them alive.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
The Vanishing Heiress: The Unsolved Mystery of Dorothy Arnold:. AI-Generated.
On a crisp December morning in 1910, Dorothy Arnold, a 25‑year‑old socialite and heiress to a prominent New York family, left her home on East 79th Street. She told her mother she was going shopping for a new evening gown. Dorothy was intelligent, witty, and ambitious—she dreamed of becoming a writer and had already submitted short stories to magazines, though they had been rejected. That day, she carried herself with the confidence of someone who belonged to the city’s elite. Yet she would never return. Her disappearance remains one of the most baffling mysteries in American history.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Confessions
There Was Ice in Her Eyes:. AI-Generated.
The snow had fallen silently that morning, blanketing the town in a hush that felt almost sacred. Areeba stepped out of the taxi, her boots sinking into the powdery white as she stared at the residence she hadn’t visible in years. It regarded smaller now. Fragile. Like one gust of wind should disintegrate it.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Confessions
The Footsteps on the Empty Staircase:. AI-Generated.
The constructing was antique, but fascinating. A diminished colonial shape tucked right into a quiet Karachi community, with creaky wooden flooring and a winding staircase that spiraled up 4 testimonies. I moved in for the solitude — a place to jot down, to think, to breathe.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
The Neighbor Who Never Existed:. AI-Generated.
I moved into the building on a quiet avenue in Karachi, drawn by means of its faded allure and the promise of solitude. The lease changed into cheap, the friends polite, and the view from the 1/3 ground overlooked a sleepy park wherein children performed till dusk.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Horror
The Last Message Before the Blackout:. AI-Generated.
It was supposed to be an ordinary evening. Karachi’s streets buzzed with their usual rhythm — vendors shouting, rickshaws weaving, children chasing each other under flickering streetlights. I was at home, scrolling through my phone, half-listening to the hum of the fan, when the message arrived.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
