waseem khan
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Stories (201)
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The Girl Who Collected Time
The Girl Who Collected Time By [waseem khan] Nobody noticed the jars at first. Lina had always kept to herself, a quiet shadow moving between lockers, sketching clocks in her notebooks while others whispered, danced, laughed. She wasn’t strange—just invisible in that way lonely people sometimes are. But if anyone had entered her room, they would have seen the truth stacked neatly on shelves: glass jars, each one labeled with a thin strip of parchment, each one softly glowing.
By waseem khan6 months ago in Fiction
What Happens After You Finish the Book?
What Happens After You Finish the Book? By [waseem khan] You’d think that typing “The End” on your manuscript would feel like winning the lottery. Like a fireworks show in your brain, a euphoric parade, maybe even a private dance party with champagne.
By waseem khan6 months ago in Education
I Lost My Voice in a Google Doc
I Lost My Voice in a Google Doc By [waseem khan] I used to think writing was magic. The kind of magic that bursts out of you unexpectedly, raw and beautiful, like a lightning strike in a clear sky. My words felt like they belonged to me alone—messy, imperfect, but honest. I wrote to feel alive, to make sense of the chaos inside my head. I wrote for the joy of it.
By waseem khan6 months ago in Interview
The Lie I Told Myself to Survive
The Lie I Told Myself to Survive By [waseem khan] I used to believe that my father loved me. Not just loved me in the obligatory, biological way — but truly saw me. That he stayed up at night thinking about the things I said at dinner. That my drawings on the fridge meant more to him than the labels on his beer bottles. That he missed me when I was at school, and that he came to my soccer games because he wanted to, not because my mom forced him to.
By waseem khan6 months ago in Families
The Silence After the Sirens
The Silence After the Sirens By [waseem khan] The sirens had stopped. In this city, that meant nothing. It didn’t mean safety. It didn’t mean peace. It meant only that the immediate threat had passed, that the missiles had landed—somewhere. That buildings had either fallen or miraculously remained standing. That the dust would settle again, and that those still breathing would count their blessings by candlelight.
By waseem khan6 months ago in Fiction
