Love

The Door That Wasn't a Door
The key to the thirteenth floor was heavier than the others. It was an old, skeleton-key thing, iron and tarnished, attached to my janitorial ring with a separate, sturdy chain. My boss, a man named Mr. Henderson who smelled of stale coffee and resignation, had handed it to me on my first night with one instruction: “Sweep the hall. Do not, under any circumstances, open any of the doors. Especially not 13A. The locksmith is coming next week to change the lot.”
By Habibullah3 months ago in Fiction
The Light of the Desert: The Story of Bilal ibn Rabah (RA)
Heavy with the sun, with its rays scorching the desert into an oven of light and heat, the sun stood over Mecca. In a small corner near the Kaaba, a man was lying on the ground chained to the burning sand, his back raw from the whip, his lips dry and cracked. Each inhalation was punctuated by pain but from his shaking lips was uttered a word that would not die.
By Nusuki3 months ago in Fiction
Story within a Story
A story within a story, also referred to as an embedded narrative, is a literary device in which one or more characters in the main narrative encounter or present a secondary narrative embedded within it. Multiple layers of stories within stories are sometimes called nested stories. A play may have a brief play within it, such as in Shakespeare's play Hamlet; a film may show the characters watching a short film; or a novel may contain a short story within the novel. A story within a story can be used in all types of narration including poems, and songs.
By HearthMen3 months ago in Fiction
The Market of Beauty — A Woman, A Society, and an Unforgiving Truth
In every era, literature has held up a mirror to its time. Some stories don’t simply entertain; they expose the soul of a society. Among them stands “Bazaar-e-Husn” (The Market of Beauty), a masterpiece by Munshi Premchand — one of the greatest voices in Urdu and Hindi literature.
By hamad khan3 months ago in Fiction
The Moon That Cried Silver Tears
The people of the world first noticed it during the great drought. The skies had been relentlessly clear for months, and the land was parched to dust. One night, a new star appeared, trailing a faint, silvery light. But it wasn't a star. It was a tear.
By Habibullah3 months ago in Fiction
The hunt
The Hunt The chased across the country. Stowed away in cars — travelling red dust… empty roads. Big skies, of long white clouds.
By Kiana Carda3 months ago in Fiction
The Pale Blue Door
I walk past the pale blue door every single day. It is locked, I think, but I haven’t ever tried to open it. Somehow, I sense that I’m not meant to go in there. My Grandma won’t even look down the hall at it. It’s right by my room, and she never goes there either. I had to move in with her six months ago when I finally left my husband. Randy had hit me one last time and that was it. I decided I had to leave. I had to get out of there. I waited until he was on his business trip, packed everything and left. I had told him all my family was gone, because they were essentially. All except for my grandma, Sylvia. I hadn’t seen her since I was sixteen, at a funeral. My parents moved across the country and didn’t see their parents but a couple of times a year on holidays. Once I turned thirteen and could stay home with my older brother, I hadn’t gone back east to visit family at all. My other two grandparents died, my parents had no siblings. So, it was the four of us and Sylvia out here in West Virginia all alone in her little yellow cottage. Then when I was sixteen and hanging out with my boyfriend Randy at home, my parents and my brother went out to pick up pizza for all of us. They wrecked and all of them were killed. Randy was the only person in my life; he was a football player and a mechanic. His parents took me in and then we moved out and got married, his family was mine. And that was how he kept me trapped so easily.
By Raine Fielder3 months ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Changed Everything
I never believed in love at first sight—at least, not until that day at the café. He was tucked away in the corner, headphones on, completely lost in whatever he was watching. I only noticed him because he laughed—a soft, genuine laugh that somehow filled the whole room. Something in me stirred, quiet but undeniable.
By Callista Ava3 months ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Sold His Dreams to Feed His Mother
At the edge of a small town, in a tiny, old house, lived a young boy named Ayaan and his kind mother, Mariam. Their house was very old and weak. The walls had big cracks, and the roof would leak whenever it rained. To anyone passing by, the house looked broken, but inside it was full of love and care. Even though they did not have much money and sometimes had little food, Ayaan always laughed happily. His cheerful voice could be heard in the streets, like a bright light in a gray world, bringing hope and happiness to everyone who heard it.
By Bilal khan 3 months ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Captured the Moon in a Jar
Leo was a boy who loved the moon with a desperate, possessive love. Every night, he’d press his face against his bedroom window, watching it sail through the clouds, a perfect silver coin. He hated that he had to share it with the whole world. He hated that it always, eventually, slipped away.
By Habibullah3 months ago in Fiction
The Room with No Mirrors – Deep Psychological Story (Narration for YouTube)
They told me memory can’t lie. But after what happened in Room 27… I’m not so sure. I was 29 when I joined the clinical study at the Mindwell Institute — a new research project on “visual memory reconstruction.”
By Naimat ullah3 months ago in Fiction
A Parable of the Storyteller
While understanding grows — the heart already knows. — Forgotten poet of a distant land Once upon a time, there lived a young man.
By Erian Lin Grant3 months ago in Fiction