Holiday
The House of Shadows
At the edge of the village stood an old house. Surrounded by dense jungle, the trees were so thick that sunlight barely touched the ground. The house had been empty for years. The locals said it was haunted. No one dared to spend the night there. But Rahim wasn’t afraid. He had come from the city, studied science, and didn’t believe in ghosts.
By Hasibul Kabir11 months ago in Poets
The Passenger of Darkness
The old train station stood at the edge of the city, shrouded in an unsettling silence. Locals called it the "Black Station," a name that carried whispers of dread and mystery. Its crumbling red brick walls were veined with ivy, and the shattered windows seemed to stare like hollow eyes into the void. The platform was littered with broken benches, and the air was thick with the scent of rust and decay. At the center of it all stood an ancient clock, its hands frozen at 3:17—a time no one could explain. The station had been abandoned for decades, but the stories surrounding it were very much alive. People claimed to hear faint whispers, the distant clatter of wheels, and even ghostly wails echoing through the night. Some said a train had vanished here long ago, taking its passengers into the unknown.
By Hasibul Kabir11 months ago in Poets
Heart
I hold you in my heart I have from the start And forever there you’ll remain To my dying day Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
By Atomic Historian11 months ago in Poets
