Shahab Ahmad
Bio
Do not give up, the beginning is always the hardest. A storyteller and poet of arctic adventures, good food, identity, mental health, and more.
Water is Life ✊
Stories (4/0)
Let Cross The River
In the heart of a serene valley, nestled between towering mountains and lush forests, there lay a gentle river called the River of Self-Realization. Its crystal-clear waters flowed with a wisdom that whispered to those who dared to listen. Legends spoke of its magical ability to guide lost souls towards their true purpose.
By Shahab Ahmadabout a year ago in Motivation
Tears of solitude :A Heart's desolate Symphony
In the quiet corners of a desolate town, where shadows danced with melancholy, lived a young woman named Lily. Her world was cloaked in sorrow, her heart burdened by the weight of loneliness. She had mastered the art of concealing her pain, shedding tears of solitude in the secret chambers of her soul.
By Shahab Ahmadabout a year ago in Humans
Lets Pluck The flower
In the quaint village of Blossomville, there was a practice that brought joy and magic to its inhabitants. per annum, on the primary day of spring, the villagers gathered at the enchanting meadow to celebrate the arrival of the season. They called it "Let's Pluck the Flower." Legend had it that a mystical flower, referred to as the Bloomheart, bloomed just one occasion a year at the precise moment when winter gave thanks to spring. The Bloomheart possessed incredible powers to bring prosperity, happiness, and renewal to the village and its people. As the sun's golden rays kissed the meadow, the villagers assembled, their faces beaming excitedly. They wore vibrant attire adorned with flowers, symbolizing the blossoming of latest beginnings. within the center of the meadow stood an imposing oak, its branches stretching towards the heavens. At the stroke of noon, the village elder, wise and type, progressed. Holding a silver chalice, he addressed the gang, his voice resonating with warmth and anticipation. "Today, we start a wondrous journey to pluck the Bloomheart. But remember, the flower will only reveal itself to those pure of heart and crammed with the deepest love for our village and its people." With those words, the villagers formed a revolve around the oak, joining hands in unity. Soft melodies filled the air as they chanted an ancient incantation, their voices merging into a harmonious symphony of hope and devotion. Suddenly, a soft, ethereal glow enveloped the meadow, signifying the presence of the paranormal Bloomheart. The elder approached the tree, holding the silver chalice with reverence. With delicate hands, he extended the chalice towards the tree, and one, radiant flower slowly emerged from the oak's branches. It blossomed with colors so vibrant they appeared to paint the very air around it. The elder turned to the gang, his eyes twinkling wisely. "Now, my dear friends, it's time for one of you to pluck the Bloomheart and receive its blessing. But remember, it's not the flower itself that holds the magic. it's the guts that plucks it." The villagers glanced at each other, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness coloring their faces. Who would be chosen to receive the Bloomheart's blessing this year? They held their breath because the elder's gaze received a lass named Lily. Lily, together with her bright eyes and compassionate spirit, progressed, her heart crammed with love for her village and its people. She approached the oak, her hand trembling with anticipation and reverence. Slowly, she reached out, gently plucking the radiant Bloomheart. As Lily held the flower in her hand, a surge of energy coursed through her body. She felt an indescribable warmth and love, as if the very essence of spring embraced her soul. The Bloomheart's petals released a soft, shimmering dust that lightly settled upon the villagers, bestowing upon them a renewed sense of hope and happiness. From that day forward, Blossomville flourished. The fields yielded bountiful harvests, the villagers found love and joy in their hearts, and therefore the village thrived with prosperity. per annum, on the primary day of spring, the tradition of "Let's Pluck the Flower" continued, reminding the villagers of the facility of unity, love, and therefore the magic that resides within their hearts. And so, the enchanting meadow of Blossomville became an area of wonder, where the Bloomheart's radiance intertwined with the spirits of its people, forever nurturing their dreams and igniting the eternal flame of hope
By Shahab Ahmadabout a year ago in Fiction
A Symphony of Endless Roads
In a world where imagination danced freely, there lived a wanderer named Eli. Eli was a dreamer, a seeker of hidden wonders, and had an insatiable desire to unravel the mysteries that lay beyond the horizon. Their heart yearned for the symphony of endless roads, a melody composed by the whispers of the wind and the rhythm of the unknown.
By Shahab Ahmadabout a year ago in Humans
