Classical
Return of the Puppet Master
The night was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that settles like fog — heavy, unspoken, and full of dread. The old school building stood still, wrapped in darkness, its crumbling walls whispering secrets of the past. Somewhere in that eerie calm, the sharp, sudden scream of a little girl sliced through the night like a knife.
By Ameer Gullabout a year ago in Fiction
Mind Game: When a Police Officer Took Down a Billionaire Mastermind
The city glimmered under the calm of the night, but beneath the shine, the truth was quietly dying. Adrian Ray was no ordinary officer. As part of the anti-corruption unit, he had built a reputation for thinking far ahead of his enemies. To him, crime wasn’t just bloodshed on the streets—it was the smiling faces behind corporate doors, the ones who manipulated minds, controlled narratives, and sold destruction as development.
By Ameer Gullabout a year ago in Fiction
The Cartographer
Amelia’s life was a meticulously organized map, every street, every landmark, precisely placed. As a cartographer, she thrived on order, on the certainty of lines and labels. Yet, lately, her own internal map felt increasingly blank, particularly the regions marked "childhood" and "family." A vague, persistent ache resided where memories should have been, a blank space she couldn't fill. Her grandmother, the last living link to her past, had recently passed, leaving behind a house filled with echoes and a single, enigmatic inheritance: a worn leather-bound journal.
By Momin Shahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Canvas
Elara lived in a city that hummed with a thousand unspoken dreams. Her own dream, however, felt increasingly muted, confined to the cramped corners of her studio apartment. Paintbrushes lay scattered like fallen soldiers, and canvases stared back, stubbornly blank. She was an artist, or at least, she used to be. Now, she mostly painted the bills due in her mind.
By Momin Shahabout a year ago in Fiction
Love and Pride
It was an old street in Lahore, lined with dusty rose-colored bricks and narrow lanes that seemed to whisper stories of years gone by. In a modest house on that street lived Zimal, a beautiful, headstrong, and stubborn girl. Her greatest flaw was her pride. Since childhood, she had been taught never to bow her head before anyone — no matter how close, no matter how dear. Not far from her house lived Arham. Arham was a calm, thoughtful young man, known for his soft smile and kind heart. He had loved Zimal for as long as he could remember. Their story had begun like countless others — as childhood friends chasing kites on rooftops, sharing secrets under neem trees, laughing over stolen mangoes in summer. As they grew, so did the feelings they had for each other, changing from innocent childhood companionship into something far deeper. They never needed to say it aloud. It was there in every glance, every accidental brush of hands, every time Zimal saved a sweet for Arham or he carried her books home from college. The whole neighborhood whispered about them. It was only a matter of time before they would be married — everyone was sure of it. --- The Seeds of Pride But pride has a way of poisoning even the sweetest love. One evening, under the same old neem tree, Arham finally decided to speak. He brought a small silver ring, simple yet sincere. His hands trembled as he held it out to her. “Zimal, you know me better than anyone. I want you with me — forever. Will you marry me?” For a moment, a shy smile danced on her lips. Her heart screamed “yes,” but her mind held her back. What if people thought she was too eager? What if they thought she had no self-respect? Instead of answering, she teased, “So soon? Maybe you should prove your love a bit more. Besides, I don’t like simple rings.” Arham was startled. “It’s not about the ring, Zimal. It’s about us.” “But it is about these things too. Why hurry? Let’s wait. Let’s see how serious you are.” Hurt flickered in Arham’s eyes, but he nodded. “Alright, if that’s what you want.” --- The Growing Distance Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Zimal waited for Arham to come again with a grander proposal, perhaps something flashy, something that would satisfy her pride. Arham, on the other hand, felt humiliated. His heart broke a little every day, thinking that the girl he loved cared more for show than his sincere feelings. Their meetings became fewer. Conversations, once filled with laughter, were now edged with irritation. Neither was willing to take the first step back. Pride stood like an iron wall between them. One afternoon, Arham saw Zimal at the market. He smiled and walked toward her, hoping to mend things. But Zimal turned away, pretending to fix her dupatta, too proud to greet him first. Arham stopped in his tracks, his smile fading. If she couldn’t even acknowledge him in public, what was left? He decided then that he would no longer chase her. His love was deep, but his dignity was deeper. --- Love Lost to Ego Months later, news spread through the street that Arham’s family had finalized his engagement to a distant cousin. It was a quiet affair, arranged by elders who thought it best to help him move on. Zimal heard the news from a neighbor. Her hands trembled, the cup of tea she held slipped and shattered on the floor. That night, she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, her mind echoing with “What if…?” What if she had just said yes that evening? What if she had swallowed her pride for the sake of love? But pride is a cruel companion. Even now, her heart ached to run to Arham, to tell him how deeply she loved him — yet her stubbornness chained her tongue. Arham, too, spent countless sleepless nights. His heart still longed for Zimal, but his wounds were too raw, his humiliation too fresh. Both of them loved fiercely, yet neither could humble themselves enough to save that love. --- The Silent End Years passed. Zimal remained unmarried, living with memories of laughter under neem trees and hands brushing by accident. Often she stood by her window, watching children fly kites in the street below, wondering how her life might have been if she had simply listened to her heart. Arham had a family of his own now, a wife who cared for him and children who laughed in his lap. Yet every time he passed that neem tree, something deep inside him twisted with an old, unhealed ache. Thus ended a love that could have been beautiful — ruined not by time, not by fate, but by two hearts too proud to bend for each other.
By Aman Ullahabout a year ago in Fiction
Monkey Between the Bananas
In the heart of the Emerald Jungle, where the trees stretched into the clouds and the birds sang stories older than time, lived a young monkey named Momo. Momo was curious, clever, and just a little too confident for his own good. He believed he knew everything about the jungle—every vine to swing on, every tree to climb, and most importantly, every banana tree to raid.
By Masih Ullahabout a year ago in Fiction
❤rian’s Night: When the Dark Almost Won❤
It was late at night. The wind whispered through the cracked window of a small room, lit only by a dying bulb. Arian sat on the edge of his bed, his hands gripping his face, his shoulders trembling — not from cold, but from the weight of everything he had tried to carry for too long.
By Abdulmusawerabout a year ago in Fiction
Silent Island — Prisoner of Truth
The year is 1954. A violent storm brews over the Atlantic as U.S. Marshal Edward “Teddy” Daniels and his new partner Chuck Aule arrive at a remote island. Their destination? Ashecliffe Hospital, an ominous facility housing the criminally insane.
By Ameer Gullabout a year ago in Fiction
