Children's Fiction

The Power Of Physical Touch
As a parent, there's nothing more precious than the bond you share with your child. One way to nurture this bond is through physical touch. A scholar once said that parents should kiss their children at least four times and touch them five times daily. This may seem like a simple act, but it can have a profound impact on your child's emotional and psychological well-being.
By Tariq Pathan about a year ago in Chapters
The Adventures of Mimi and Misho. AI-Generated.
Some places cannot be found on any map… only in the moment you say “yes” to a dream. Her first step through the door felt like stepping onto a rainbow.
By Mimi's imaginationabout a year ago in Chapters
I Found Him Where I'd Never Been.
## **The Stranger in My Memories** **By Adil Khan (optional)** The first time I dreamed of him, I thought nothing of it. He stood by a fountain in a town square I didn’t recognize—tall, wearing a dark green coat, a calm expression on his face. I woke up feeling strangely comforted, as if I’d reunited with someone I hadn’t seen in years. But I couldn’t place him. He was a stranger.
By Adil Khalidabout a year ago in Chapters
Under the Banyan Tree
Ravi was born in the small village of Dharmapur, nestled between rice paddies and mango groves. The village had no cinema, no mall, and only one dusty road that led in and out. But it had a banyan tree in the center, whose roots had kissed the earth for over 300 years, and under which the whole village gathered each evening.
By AFTAB KHANabout a year ago in Chapters
Dr. Jeffrey Kesten: A Compassionate Healer Transforming Lives Across Continents
Introduction: A Legacy of Service In the global tapestry of humanitarian efforts, a few individuals stand out for their unwavering commitment to improving the lives of those most in need. Dr. Jeffrey Kesten is one such remarkable figure. With a career dedicated to healing, service, and empowerment, Dr. Kesten’s work has left an indelible mark from the forests of Uganda to the vibrant communities of Pakistan. This blog explores his inspiring journey and the profound impact of his outreach.
By Mike Husseyabout a year ago in Chapters
Mirrored Ripples
There was an endless ocean of luminous light, almost blinding in its lustre. Sailing effortlessly through the sea, there was a feeling of weightlessness that took over Avea, as though she were no longer bound to any physical form. The heavy burden of reality couldn't anchor her to the ground.
By KEATAabout a year ago in Chapters
The Fractured Veil
In the distant land of Aetherwyn, where reality and myth once lived in harmony, the Veil—a mystical boundary separating the mortal realm from the Shadowlands—had protected the world for centuries. But now, it was weakening.
By Zahir Ali Khanabout a year ago in Chapters
The River That Took Them All: A Tragedy in Swat
The morning began like any other in the lush, serene valley of Swat, Pakistan. Birds sang their songs in the pine trees, children laughed on the riverbank, and tourists wandered the scenic hills with cameras and curious eyes. But by sundown, what was once a landscape of peace had turned into the setting of an unspeakable tragedy. On June 27, 2025, the beauty of the valley was shattered when a sudden flash flood tore through the Swat River — claiming the lives of at least 15 members of a single extended family, with others still missing. It was a moment that stunned a nation, paralyzed a community, and left scars that words can barely describe. --- A Family Outing Turned Fatal The family had come from different parts of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa for what was meant to be a joyful picnic. It was a break from the heat of the cities, a chance for cousins to reunite, and for elders to breathe the clean air of the mountains. They chose a picturesque spot beside the Swat River — a place where the water seemed calm, children could dip their feet, and photos could be taken under the shadow of the hills. But beneath that beauty was a storm brewing — both figuratively and literally. --- The Moment It Happened Around midday, the skies began to darken. It wasn’t unusual for monsoon clouds to roll in, and no weather alerts had reached the tourists. Within minutes, however, a deafening roar echoed through the valley — a rush of water unlike anything they’d seen before. The flash flood arrived without mercy. Witnesses say the river swelled within seconds. What was once a peaceful stream turned into a torrent of churning, brown water. Trees were uprooted. Rocks were hurled. And in the middle of it all, the family was caught. Several children were nearest to the river when the water surged. As they screamed and struggled, their parents and older siblings rushed forward instinctively — not to escape, but to save them. In doing so, they were swept away together. --- A Scene of Helplessness By the time emergency services arrived, it was already too late. The flood had carried away everything: people, belongings, memories. Local rescue teams, joined by the Pakistan Army and volunteers, combed the river for hours. Slowly, one by one, bodies were recovered downstream — some as far as 10 kilometers away. By evening, 12 bodies had been found. Some were locked in embrace. Others had scratches from rocks and tree branches. The youngest was only eight years old. Among the deceased were mothers, fathers, teenagers, and toddlers. A family that had posed for a group photo hours earlier had now been reduced to names on a casualty list. --- The Pain of Those Left Behind The surviving members — those who watched from a distance or arrived late — were inconsolable. One elderly man, the grandfather of three of the children who died, collapsed on the riverbank, repeating their names again and again. Another woman, barely able to stand, kept asking, “Why did God let this happen?” Grief spread through the nearby town like wildfire. Shops closed. The mosque echoed with Quranic recitations for the dead. Neighbors wept with neighbors, strangers embraced each other, and the entire community mourned as one. --- A National Wake-Up Call The incident made national headlines within hours. News channels replayed the video — recorded by a bystander — of the family being swept away, the cries of children fading into the roar of the flood. Many Pakistanis, especially those familiar with Swat’s treacherous terrain during monsoon season, asked the same questions: Why weren’t there flood warnings? Why is there no protective fencing along such a dangerous riverbank? Why do these tragedies keep repeating every monsoon? Government officials promised investigations and flood-mitigation measures. But for those who buried their loved ones, no promise could ease the ache of what was lost. --- Nature’s Beauty — And Its Brutality Swat has long been described as "the Switzerland of Pakistan" — its emerald rivers, snow-capped peaks, and terraced fields drawing millions of tourists. But this tragedy is a grim reminder that beauty can also be deadly. Pakistan, already vulnerable to climate change, is witnessing more intense and unpredictable weather patterns each year. Sudden glacial melts, cloudbursts, and unmonitored tourism in flood-prone areas have made incidents like these more common — and more deadly. --- The Ones We Lost Here are some of their names, as released by the family: Sanaullah, 45 — tried to save his two sons. Rabiya, 16 — slipped while helping her cousin. Haris, 10 — last seen clinging to a tree branch. Zainab, 8 — smiling in the last photo taken that day. And many others. Each one with a story. A future. A dream. --- The River Still Flows Today, the Swat River flows as it always has — indifferent, unconcerned. Tourists have returned. The rocks remain. The trees stand tall again. But for the families that lost their loved ones, time has stood still. Every time a child laughs near the water, a mother flinches. Every time thunder rolls across the hills, hearts tighten. The river that once gave life to the valley has now become a symbol of what it can take away. --- Final Words We often forget how fragile life is until it’s too late. A riverbank picnic turned into a graveyard for 19 souls — all because nature struck without warning, and humanity wasn’t prepared. Let their memory be a lesson. Not just in safety or climate awareness, but in valuing every moment, every hug, every goodbye. Because sometimes, there is no next time.
By TrueVocalabout a year ago in Chapters
Why My Ex Thanked Me Years After Our Breakup
On a quiet Monday morning, Mira unlocked her phone and froze at the message: “Hey. I just wanted to say… thank you.” It had been four years since she and Alex ended things. No contact. No explanations. No goodbye beyond the void. And now, six simple words.
By Muhammad Saeedabout a year ago in Chapters
The Last Lantern
Chapter One: Ash and Glow The village of Duskwood never knew daylight. Long ago, before the sky burned out and the world was swallowed in eternal twilight, people thrived under the sun. But now, only the rich could afford the flicker of artificial light, stored in glass orbs called Lumen Spheres, harvested by rare Seekers who ventured into the outer wastelands. For the rest, life was lived in shadows. Twelve-year-old Kael had never seen true light. His mother kept a single sphere under their bed, cracked and fading, the last gift from his father, a Seeker who never returned. It was their most precious possession—used only during illness or to light a single candle on Kael’s birthday. Every night, Kael would stare at the ceiling of their crumbling hut, imagining what the world might look like if lit. “Why don’t we just chase the sun?” he once asked. His mother, face lined with soot and sorrow, replied, “Because it doesn’t want to be found anymore.” But Kael believed otherwise. Chapter Two: The Stranger with the Silver Boots The annual Flicker Fair drew everyone from nearby villages. Traders bartered for shards of light. Some sold illusions of brightness—glowing paint, fire dust, or mirrors said to capture memories of sunrises. It was mostly lies. Kael wandered the fair alone until he saw something—or someone—unusual. A tall figure wrapped in a hooded silver cloak stood silently at a booth. His boots shimmered, reflecting dim torchlight. “A real Seeker,” someone whispered behind Kael. The man turned. His eyes were like tiny suns. He noticed Kael staring and walked over. “You believe in the sun, don’t you?” he said. Kael nodded. The man leaned in, producing a cracked map from under his cloak. “There’s a path beyond the Dying Forest. Dangerous. Forgotten. But the light still waits there.” “Why tell me?” Kael asked, breath catching. “Because you’ve never seen it—and that makes you the bravest one here.” Then he was gone, leaving only the map and a faint scent of ozone. Chapter Three: Into the Shadows Kael left before dawn—or whatever counted as dawn in a world without sun. He packed bread, water, and the old Lumen Sphere. His mother’s tearful face haunted him, but she didn’t try to stop him. She just said, “Don’t let the dark get into your heart.” The journey was worse than any tale. The Dying Forest was filled with creatures that fed on warmth. Kael stayed close to his Lumen Sphere, its dim glow just enough to keep them at bay. He walked for days—sometimes guided by the stars, other times by the map’s cryptic symbols. Finally, he reached a cliff’s edge. Below was a desert of black glass and, in the far distance, a glowing tower piercing the horizon like a needle of flame. The last Lightspire. He ran. Chapter Four: Light’s Truth The tower wasn’t abandoned. Inside, machines hummed and mirrors turned endlessly, capturing and magnifying the last known light source: a single shard of the original sun, kept alive through ancient technology. Kael met the Curator, an old woman with skin like parchment and eyes like Kael’s. She’d once been a Seeker too. “Why keep this hidden?” he demanded. “Because power corrupts. When light was free, people squandered it. Now, only those who earn it can use it wisely.” Kael frowned. “Or maybe they forget what it feels like.” He held out his cracked Lumen Sphere. “Can I bring it back? Just a little? For the people?” The Curator studied him. “Most come to steal. You came to share.” She touched the sphere to the shard. It ignited—brighter than anything Kael had ever seen. Epilogue: The First Sunrise When Kael returned to Duskwood, people thought the gods had descended. He opened the sphere in the village square. Light poured out—gentle and golden, not harsh like torches or fire. Children danced in it. Elders wept. And Kael whispered, “This is only the beginning.” Soon, he would teach others the way. Not just to find the light, but to carry it. Because in the end, the sun didn’t vanish. It just waited for someone brave enough to chase it.
By Jibran Khanabout a year ago in Chapters
The Roar in the Shadows
In the heart of the Elderwood Jungle, where the trees towered like ancient giants and mist curled along the forest floor like whispered secrets, a lone lion named Zuberi walked between silence and legend.
By Ghaniabout a year ago in Chapters
No Trace
Avea felt her heart lurch into her throat, as soon as her feet leapt off the ledge into the dark abyss below. As she felt herself become weightless, and the moonstone locked in its beautiful capsule glowed before lifting off her chest. A beacon in the dark, and just like everything else in the outlands the trench wasn't what it seemed. The mystic air around her caught her, and carried her gently to the ground. Avea felt her feet hit the ground below to the sunken depths where no other living soul could be heard. She didn't feel scared, instead she could feel the hum of the portal like a subtle melody echoing out to her. "Alright let's find where you are" she whispered closing her eyes, the moonstone around her neck recognising the call of power guided her through the narrow escape towards the end where she saw the opening of the dome.
By KEATAabout a year ago in Chapters