Wings of Time
Bio
I'm Wings of Time—a storyteller from Swat, Pakistan. I write immersive, researched tales of war, aviation, and history that bring the past roaring back to life
Stories (259)
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The Last Tea Cup
The Last Tea Cup The sirens had long faded into the cold morning fog when Miriam finally stepped onto the porch. She held a porcelain cup—white with faded gold trim—trembling between her fingers. This had once been her grandmother’s cup, and before that, her great-grandmother’s. And now, it was the last thing that felt real.
By Wings of Time 6 months ago in Humans
Today’s People of the World
Today’s People of the World Today’s people of the world wake up to buzzing phones instead of birdsong. Before their feet hit the floor, they’ve already checked the weather, doom scrolled through headlines, liked a stranger’s vacation photo, and sighed at someone else's good fortune.
By Wings of Time 6 months ago in Confessions
The Memory Locksmith
The Memory Locksmith The locksmith’s shop sat at the far edge of town, wedged between a crumbling bakery and a florist that hadn’t opened in years. No sign above the door. No hours posted. Just a heavy green door with a brass keyhole so intricate it looked like a puzzle in itself.
By Wings of Time 6 months ago in Writers
The Man Who Collected Goodbyes
The Man Who Collected Goodbyes He sat in the farthest corner of the café, where the sunlight met the shadows, sipping lukewarm coffee like it was sacred. Every day, at exactly 4 p.m., he arrived—never early, never late. Always alone.
By Wings of Time 6 months ago in Fiction
The Lantern Keeper of Isenfall
The Lantern Keeper of Isenfall In the frost-wrapped village of Isenfall, where twilight lingered longer than dawn, the people spoke in hushed tones about the Lantern Keeper. His tower rose crookedly from the cliffs, like a finger pointing to the stars — forever lit, never visited.
By Wings of Time 6 months ago in Fiction
The Midnight Portal: Secrets of Goulhearth Academy
The Midnight Portal: Secrets of Goulhearth Academy Night drew Sienna Rosewood in like a hungry moth to a kindred flame—deep azure and cerulean blue flickers, mirroring her own slow-burning fire. The sky above was dotted with stars, faintly illuminating the path beneath her feet. The chirping of crickets whispered softly in the distance, swallowing the silence until only the sound of her footsteps trudging through sand remained, mingling with the relentless crashing of waves against the heavy rocks below.
By Wings of Time 6 months ago in Education
