Zabeeh Ullah
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Stories (6)
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The Cartographer of Lost Emotion. AI-Generated.
In a forgotten corner of the world, where maps ended and compasses spun without direction, there lived a man named Elior—a cartographer not of land or sea, but of feelings. He was the Cartographer of Lost Emotions, a title whispered in old stories and sung in lullabies by mothers whose hearts carried unspoken sorrow.
By Zabeeh Ullah8 months ago in BookClub
The Lion and the Last Ember. AI-Generated.
The land was broken. Where once rivers flowed and trees reached toward the stars, now there was only ash and silence. The wind carried the scent of cinders, and even the sun seemed to dim above the endless grey. It was the end of all things—at least, that’s what most had come to believe.
By Zabeeh Ullah8 months ago in Petlife
The Last Library of Shadows
The wind howled across the cliffs of Verriden as the last rays of the sun slipped behind the jagged horizon. Beneath a sky inked with storm clouds, Kael tightened the strap of his satchel and approached the ancient stone steps that spiraled down into the cliffs. The entrance was barely visible unless you knew where to look—a relic from a time before maps marked this region, before kingdoms rose and fell, before magic became myth.
By Zabeeh Ullah8 months ago in Motivation
The Clockmaker's Paradox
In the heart of Eldhollow, nestled between crooked cobblestone streets and ivy-choked alleyways, stood an ancient clock shop. “Virelli & Sons,” the faded sign read, though no one alive could recall a time when it had more than one occupant. Behind its dust-stained windows, the ticking never ceased—hundreds of clocks synchronized in unnatural harmony.
By Zabeeh Ullah9 months ago in Education
The Clockmaker's Paradox
In a land where time once obeyed, a silent force begins to unravel its very rhythm. In the forgotten village of Nareth Hollow, time was not merely measured — it was revered. For centuries, a great tower stood at its center, known only as the Tempus Spire. Built by the long-dead clockmaker Elian Voss, it held a mechanism unlike any other. Villagers said the clock inside it didn’t follow time — it commanded it. Rain fell when the minute hand passed twelve, crops sprouted on the third chime of dawn, and no one ever aged a day beyond their allotted span. Time, in Nareth Hollow, was exact. Perfect.
By Zabeeh Ullah9 months ago in Art
Whispers of the Wild: The Secret Council of the Forest
Long before humans built roads and cities, before machines drowned out the sounds of nature, there was a place untouched by time—Verdantia. It was a vast, lush forest teeming with life, governed not by rulers of crowns, but by the harmony of its creatures. In the very center stood the Elder Tree, ancient and wise, with bark so thick and roots so deep that it was said to remember every whisper ever spoken beneath its leaves.
By Zabeeh Ullah9 months ago in Fiction
