A flicker clings to the silence of night,
whispers of flame defying the end.
Ashes recall what stars forget—
a soul once burned to softly mend.
Hope is a breath we borrow and spend,
fading between what is and was.
The dark arrives, but not alone—
it kneels where memory gently glows.
About the Creator
Muhammad Abdullah
Crafting stories that ignite minds, stir souls, and challenge the ordinary. From timeless morals to chilling horror—every word has a purpose. Follow for tales that stay with you long after the last line.
Keep reading
More stories from Muhammad Abdullah and writers in Poets and other communities.
Affection and Healing for Yourself
During the night of the last quarter moon, I gathered my ritual supplies. I carefully handled the chunk of black tourmaline that would protect me from your overall negative and narcissistic energy. I carefully walked the house with my stick of selenite in hand, asking the universe to cleanse our working space.
By Alisha Wilkins ✒️🦋🖋️3 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.