The Writer...A_Awan
Bio
16‑year‑old Ayesha, high school student and storyteller. Passionate about suspense, emotions, and life lessons...
Stories (119)
Filter by community
The Child at the Window:. AI-Generated.
It was past middle of the night when I first saw him. The rain were falling steadily all night, tapping in opposition to the glass like impatient hands. i used to be curled up at the sofa, half-asleep, while some thing pulled me conscious. A presence. A weight inside the air. I turned toward the window, and there he turned into — a toddler, no older than seven, standing out of doors inside the typhoon.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
The Call That Came From My Own Number:. AI-Generated.
It became a quiet nighttime, the kind Karachi not often offers. The metropolis’s regular chaos — honking cars, stressed vendors, and the hum of generators — had softened into a unprecedented lull. I sat by using the window, scrolling through my cellphone, when it rang. nothing uncommon, besides for the caller identity.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
The Last Passenger: A Survivor’s Diary:. AI-Generated.
Day 1 – The Silence After the Crash I nevertheless hear the sound of that night time—the tearing of metal, the screams of strangers, and the unexpected silence that accompanied. The teach changed into racing forward, unstoppable, till one violent jolt became the whole lot upside down. I take into account sitting with the aid of the window, and in a heartbeat, that window collapsed over me. Darkness swallowed my imaginative and prescient, and simplest one thought echoed in my thoughts: i'm alive… but for the way lengthy?
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Confessions
Silent Rooftops:. AI-Generated.
Karachi’s skyline is a stressed one. Minarets pierce the air, neon symptoms flicker, and rooftops stretch like islands above the chaos. For most, rooftops are places of get away — where laundry dries, children play cricket, or households gather below the celebrities. however for Ayesha, rooftops have become something else totally: a place of silence, memory, and haunting echoes.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
Echoes in the Quiet Ward:. AI-Generated.
The sanatorium at night is a special global. At some stage in the day, it’s a blur of footsteps, beeping video display units, and clipped conversations. however after middle of the night, the corridors stretch longer, the lighting fixtures dim softer, and silence turns into a dwelling aspect.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Confessions
The Account That Shouldn’t Exist:. AI-Generated.
It started out with a notification. Sara, a 27-yr-old graphic clothier living in Karachi, turned into scrolling via Instagram overdue one night time while she noticed a acquainted name pop up in her suggested follows: @zainwritesagain. Her coronary heart stopped.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
The Midnight Whistle:. AI-Generated.
Karachi is a metropolis of noise. Rickshaws rattle through slim lanes, vendors shout charges, and youngsters play cricket until the streetlights flicker on. but in a single community near the old railway tracks, silence falls at nighttime. no longer due to the fact people sleep — but because of the whistle.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Confessions
Shadows in the Family Album:. AI-Generated.
It started with a box. A dusty, forgotten container tucked away in the attic of the Rahman family’s Karachi home. The residence had stood for many years, its partitions echoing with laughter, arguments, and whispered prayers. however the container become exceptional. It carried silence — the sort that makes you hesitate before starting it.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
Whispers Behind the Wall:. AI-Generated.
It changed into the kind of community where everybody knew every different’s names, birthdays, and favourite chai spots. Nestled within the coronary heart of Karachi, Block 7 of Gulshan-e-Iqbal had constantly felt secure — an area wherein children performed cricket till sundown and aunties exchanged recipes over balconies. however the whole thing modified the night Mrs. Shabnam disappeared.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Criminal
The Vanishing Echo:. AI-Generated.
It commenced on a humid night in Karachi, the kind of night time where the air feels heavy with secrets and techniques. The streets were alive with providers shouting fees, youngsters chasing each different, and the occasional honk of a rickshaw weaving via site visitors. yet, in the midst of this regular chaos, some thing first rate — and terrifying — unfolded.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Confessions
