family

Fractured Reflections. Runner-Up in Parallel Lives Challenge. Content Warning.
Bowel movement, shower, dressed for the day ahead. Toast, marmalade, of course. Coffee, black, indubitably. Doom scroll for ten minutes before grabbing my wallet and keys. Out the door to, out the driveway for 9.30. Plenty of time to get across town to my employers.
By Paul Stewart12 months ago in Fiction
The Old Woman Who Outsmarted the Tricksters
The Old Woman and the Two Tricksters BY:Khan Once upon a time, there was an old woman. She was on her way to the city, wearing all her jewelry. It wasn’t much—just a pair of gold earrings, a necklace, and some bangles—but it was all made of pure gold. Behind her trailed two tricksters. These men were clever, sly, and full of deceit. They were partners in crime, always looking for easy prey. When they saw the old woman walking alone, glittering with ornaments, they immediately decided to rob her. But what they didn’t know was that this woman was far wiser than she looked. Her hair may have turned white under the sun, but her mind was sharper than a blade. One of the tricksters walked ahead, greeted her politely, and asked, “Mother, where are you going?” “To the city, son,” she replied. “That’s wonderful!” the first trickster said. “We are headed there too.” “Yes, Mother,” the second chimed in. “We’ll travel together.” The old woman smiled. “Good, that will make the road easier.” They walked for a while, and then one of the tricksters said, “Mother, why don’t you tell us a story? The journey will feel shorter.” “My sons, what story could I possibly tell? You should tell me something instead,” she replied. “Very well,” said the second trickster. “But on one condition. If you call our story a lie, we will take your bangles.” The old woman agreed, and one trickster began. “Mother, once we had a cow. A beautiful cow, with large shining eyes and long ears. She gave so much milk that even after we had filled every pot in the house, she would still not run dry. But that wasn’t her only wonder. If we sat upon her right horn, she would carry us instantly to the West. If we sat upon her left horn, she would take us to the East. “During the partition of the country, when we were migrating to Pakistan, the rioters attacked us. A bullet struck our poor cow, and she fell dead on the spot.” The trickster sighed dramatically. The old woman also sighed. “That is indeed sad,” she said with sympathy. Seeing that she didn’t call his story a lie, the trickster thought he had won. But then he said, “Now, Mother, it’s your turn to tell a story. And if we find it false, we will claim a hundred rupees from you.” The old woman nodded. “Very well, sons. If you are so sure, then listen.” She began her tale: “When I was married, my father gave me a bull as part of my dowry. A fine animal it was, strong and gentle. One day another bull from the village fought with him, and my bull received a wound on his forehead. We tried every remedy, but it never healed. Then, by chance, a cottonseed fell into the wound. To our amazement, it sprouted and grew into a full cotton plant, right on his forehead. “The cotton was so soft and fine that people from faraway villages came to see it. Soon we had heaps of cotton. From it we made cloth—khes, sheets, and all kinds of fabric. But two of those khes were stolen. Sons, may God protect me from lying, but the khes you are wearing now are those very same ones! Kindly return them to me.” The tricksters looked at each other. The condition was clear: if they denied her claim, they would have to pay a hundred rupees. Helpless, they removed their khes and gave them to her. The old woman went on. “From the rest of the cotton we made fine muslin cloth. But one bolt of muslin also disappeared. And, sons, the turbans you are wearing—these too were made from that very muslin. Please remove them.” The tricksters, trapped by their own condition, handed over their turbans. By now, they were close to the city. One trickster tried to change the subject. “Mother, I’m hungry.” “Don’t worry, sons,” said the old woman. “We are nearly there. I will sell my bangles, and then we shall sit and eat together.” The tricksters whispered to each other, thinking they would trick her once she sold her jewelry. At last, they entered the bustling marketplace of the city. The old woman removed her bangles and said, “Sons, sit here while I go to the jeweler.” They sat down nearby, waiting. The jeweler asked her, “What do you wish to sell, Mother? These bangles?” “No,” she replied calmly. “I wish to sell my two servants. They are sitting over there.” The jeweler peered across the street. “Excellent! We need strong workers. How much do you want for them?” “Three hundred rupees,” said the old woman. After some bargaining, they settled on two hundred rupees. “But let me ask my servants first,” she said with a sly smile. She raised her voice and called, “Sons, should I sell one of you or both?” From across the way, the tricksters shouted back, “Sell both, Mother! What will you do with just one?” The deal was sealed. The jeweler handed her two hundred rupees, and she walked out of the shop. Before leaving, she told them sweetly, “Wait here, sons. I’ll bring food and sweets for you.” Then she disappeared into the crowd, never to be seen again. When the jeweler called them to work, the tricksters realized what had happened. They had been outsmarted completely. And so they exclaimed in defeat: “She really was our grandmother after all
By Khan 12 months ago in Fiction
The child I was...
It began with a knock. Not hurried, not polite—slow, deliberate. The kind of knock that carried its own knowledge, its own weight, as though the hand that struck the wood was not asking for entrance but declaring inevitability.
By Taylor Ward12 months ago in Fiction
The Hidden Truth
The Hidden Truth BY:Ubaid Long ago, in the heart of China, two angels were traveling through the land. As night fell, they sought a place to rest and came upon the grand house of a wealthy man. They knocked on his door, hoping for kindness. The man, rich but arrogant and miserly, opened the door with a frown. He agreed to let them stay for the night, but not in the comfort of his luxurious guest chambers. Instead, he sent them to the cold, damp basement of his mansion. The room was dark, foul-smelling, and unworthy of their presence. Yet, they accepted it without complaint. The younger angel quickly fell asleep on the hard stone floor, but the elder angel remained awake. As he turned over, his eyes fell upon a hole in the wall. He rose quietly, picked up some materials, and began repairing the crack. Patiently, he sealed the opening until the wall looked whole again. When morning came, the younger angel awoke and was astonished to see what the elder had done. “Why?” he asked with frustration. “This man was rude and disrespectful. He gave us no comfort, no warmth, and no kindness. Yet you helped him by repairing his broken wall?” The elder angel smiled gently and replied, “My child, the truth is not always what it seems.” Without saying more, the two angels continued their journey. --- The next evening, they entered a small village. There, they knocked on the door of a poor farmer’s cottage. The farmer and his wife welcomed them with bright smiles and open hearts. Though they had little, they gladly offered the angels the best space in their humble home and shared with them the simple food they had. The angels rested peacefully that night on a soft bed provided by the farmer and his wife. When dawn broke, however, tragedy struck. Outside the house, the farmer’s only cow lay dead. The couple wept bitterly. That cow had been their livelihood—their source of milk, which they sold to survive. Without it, their future seemed dark. The younger angel was devastated. “How could you allow this?” he demanded of the elder. “Yesterday, the wealthy man treated us with cruelty, yet you helped him by repairing his wall. Today, this kind farmer gave us everything he had, and you let his only cow die? Why would you allow such injustice?” Again, the elder angel said softly, “The truth is not always what it seems.” --- As they walked further along the road, the younger angel could no longer contain his questions. “Please,” he pleaded, “explain to me why you did what you did. Why help the cruel man and harm the kind one? It makes no sense.” The elder angel stopped and looked at him with calm wisdom. “When we stayed at the rich man’s house, I saw something hidden in that basement wall. Behind the crack, a great treasure was buried. If the rich man had discovered it, he would have grown even more arrogant and selfish, spreading more cruelty to others. By repairing the wall, I concealed the treasure, saving many from his greed.” The younger angel’s eyes widened with surprise. The elder continued, “As for the poor farmer, when we stayed in his home, I saw that the Angel of Death had come for his wife. Her time had been marked. But I knew how deeply the farmer loved her and how much she meant to his life. So I prayed and pleaded, asking that the cow’s life be taken instead. In this way, I spared the farmer a greater sorrow. He can rebuild his livelihood, but losing his beloved wife would have broken him forever.” The younger angel was silent now, his heart heavy with understanding. --- The elder angel’s words lingered in the air: “What we see is not always the truth. Appearances deceive. What happens in our lives is often beyond our comprehension. Many times we think we are suffering injustice, when in reality, hidden blessings are being arranged for us. All events unfold by the will of God, and He alone knows what is truly best for us. We only see a fragment, while He sees the whole picture.” The younger angel lowered his head in humility. He realized how quickly humans—and even angels like himself—are tempted to judge situations without knowing the full truth. The elder smiled gently once again. “Patience, my child. If we wait with trust, the truth will reveal itself in time. And when it does, we will see that everything happened for our good.” --- Moral of the Story: Life often presents us with situations that seem unfair, confusing, or painful. But appearances can deceive us. What may look like a loss could be a hidden blessing, and what may appear as gain could be a test or a trap. The truth is not always what it seems. Trust in the wisdom of God, for He knows what we do not, and His plan is always for the best.
By Ubaid 12 months ago in Fiction
The Hemingway
My grandparents called it Hemingway Ranch, the place I was born. Grandpa always said Hemingway was overrated in his opinion but he led an interesting life and that's what he wanted for his family and the following generations. By the time I came around, what started as a ten acre tenant farm was a ranch the size of a small city. The man my grandpa rented the plot from got into some tax trouble after the firt world war and put everything in my grandpa's name. When the fighting men returned home the crop harvests were bringing in three times more than they ever had before and beef was as good as gold. Grandpa paid off the tax lien and bought out the remaining acreage and they never heard from the lessor again.
By Adam Diehl12 months ago in Fiction
Finding out about an affair through the Ouija Board
Characters: Linda: A 16-year-old girl wearing rose-printed pajamas. Samantha: A 36-year-old ghost. Scene: Linda’s bedroom, 11:00 PM. A full moon glows through the window, casting silver shadows across the room. Linda sits cross-legged on the floor, a flashlight shining over the Ouija board.
By Diani Alvarenga12 months ago in Fiction
The Secrets My Mother Kept
The water wasn't water anymore. Alexander understood this with a clarity that felt both new and impossibly old. What surrounded him was something else entirely - a substance that moved like memory, that breathed like thought. It pulsed with its own rhythm, a heartbeat that seemed to sync with something deep in his chest - something that had been dormant until now.
By Parsley Rose 12 months ago in Fiction
The Wise Frog and the Gift of Humanity
The Wise Frog and the Gift of Humanity BY:Ubaid How a small pond of frogs discovered compassion where they least expected it Deep inside a dense forest, there was a small pond that shimmered under the sun. It was home to a lively community of frogs. For years, they lived in peace, croaking in harmony, leaping on lily pads, and enjoying their green, watery world. But then a long drought arrived. The rains stopped, the leaves on the trees drooped, and the earth cracked under the heat. As water dried up in rivers and streams, animals from faraway places began coming to the little pond in search of water. Deer, elephants, wild boars—even predators—crowded around the pond. The frogs tried their best to stay out of the way, but many were crushed under the heavy feet of thirsty beasts. Day by day, their numbers dwindled, and their home shrank. The surviving frogs were worried. Some suggested leaving, but there was no other pond for miles. They were trapped between life and death. --- The Arrival of Strangers One day, a group of young men appeared in the forest. They weren’t hunters or villagers. They were students from a medical college, looking for frogs to use in their laboratory experiments. The moment the frogs saw them, they panicked and dived underwater to hide. But one elderly frog, known for his wisdom and calmness, gathered the others and spoke. “My friends,” he said, “we are already on the verge of extinction. Many of our brothers have been crushed by wild animals. Perhaps, instead of fearing these humans, we should try to speak with them. They might help us.” The younger frogs were horrified. “Help us? They want to take us away! If more of us disappear, our kind will vanish from this forest forever.” But the old frog insisted. “Humans are not always as cruel as we believe. At times, they can be kinder than the animals we fear. Let me go and speak to them. If I fail, at least I will have tried to save you all.” Three or four brave frogs agreed to join him. “We will risk our lives if it means hope for the rest of us.” --- A Risky Bargain As the students reached the pond, the old frog hopped forward. To their astonishment, he spoke: “What do you seek here?” The students stared, half amused and half amazed. Finally, one replied, “We are medical students. We need some frogs for our experiments.” The old frog nodded. “Very well. But I will come with you. I must speak with your professor. Only then will we agree to go.” Surprised but curious, the students agreed. They placed the frogs gently into a large glass jar and carried them away. Back at the laboratory, the frogs trembled in fear. The students took the old frog out and set him on a plate while they went to call their professor. --- The Plea of the Old Frog When the professor entered, he looked down at the tiny creature. “You wished to see me?” he asked. The old frog’s eyes welled up. In a trembling voice, he recounted everything—the drying pond, the death of his companions, and the danger of his species disappearing. The professor listened in silence, moved by the creature’s desperation. At last, he said, “If what you say is true, then I cannot, in good conscience, use your kind for experiments. First, I must see the forest with my own eyes.” He assigned a student to watch over the frogs and set out with a team to inspect the forest. --- A New Home The professor and his companions searched all day. At last, they discovered a large, thriving pond hidden deeper within the forest. The water was clean and plentiful, with space enough for hundreds of frogs. Excited, the professor hurried back to the laboratory. He shared the good news with the old frog, who could hardly believe his luck. The very next day, the professor carried the frogs to this new pond. There, the old frog called out to his fellow survivors who had remained in the shrinking pool. “Come! We have been given a new home. We are safe!” Overjoyed, the frogs leaped into the new pond, splashing and croaking with relief. --- An Unexpected Kindness As the frogs settled, the professor called out to the old frog once more. He opened the glass jar and released the remaining captured frogs into the water. The old frog looked at him with wonder. “Why, Professor? You could have kept them.” The professor smiled. “Because your species is already endangered. Too many animals have gone extinct because of human actions. I will not let the same happen to you. From now on, no student of mine will harm your kind.” The old frog bowed his head. “I told them that humans are not always what they seem. Today, you have proved me right.” From that day forward, the frogs lived happily in their new home. They made the old frog their king, honoring his wisdom and courage. And whenever they croaked under the moonlight, they remembered the kindness of one human who chose to protect life rather than destroy it. --- Moral of the Story This tale reminds us that kindness can be found in unexpected places. Even when fear tells us to mistrust others, courage and honesty can open doors to compassion. Humanity, at its best, has the power not only to heal itself but also to protect the fragile creatures with whom we share this earth.
By Ubaid 12 months ago in Fiction
The Bitter Sweet Lesson
The Bitter Sweet Lesson When a Mistake Turned Into a Life-Changing Realization BY:Ubaid It was a bright afternoon when I found myself at my best friend Hadiya’s house. She had invited a few close friends to celebrate her achievement—first position in the annual school exams. Along with me, our two other classmates, Aafia and Sameera, were also present. Since all of us had scored good marks, we had decided that each of us would contribute one homemade dish for the occasion. I had chosen to prepare rice pudding, a traditional dessert that everyone loved. I had made it carefully at home, poured it into a bowl, and brought it proudly to Hadiya’s house. Everything seemed perfect—until my younger brother, Arsalan, slipped into the room and whispered something into my ear. “Arsalan! What kind of joke is this?” I snapped, glaring at him. “It’s not a joke, Api. I’m telling you the truth,” he insisted confidently. “And how exactly do you know?” I asked, still refusing to believe him. “I tasted it before putting it in the fridge,” he explained nervously, looking around to make sure no one else was listening. “You accidentally added salt instead of sugar.” My heart sank. The words hit me like a thunderbolt. Salt instead of sugar! I felt as if the ground had slipped from beneath my feet. I quickly told him to stay quiet and not mention it to anyone. He nodded and left, but I was already trembling inside. If my friends discovered that my pudding was salty instead of sweet, I would never hear the end of it. Sameera and Aafia would laugh at me for years, and as for Hadiya—oh, Allah help me! She was kind-hearted but had the habit of exposing everyone’s mistakes. If she tasted the pudding, she would announce it to the entire neighborhood, the school, and even the madrasa. I thought about secretly removing or hiding the pudding, but I had already bragged about how “delicious” it was. Any suspicious move would only expose me further. Just then, Hadiya’s voice startled me. “Ayesha! Why are you standing here? Come on, the food is ready.” I forced a smile, hiding my pounding heart, and followed her to the dining table. The dishes looked tempting. We all sat down, laughing and chatting, when suddenly Hadiya declared loudly: “Well, I’ll start with my favorite dish—the rice pudding! And let it be known, if it tastes good, then it’s mine alone. None of you are allowed to touch it.” Her words made my chest tighten. “Why should you get all of it?” Aafia protested playfully. “Because this party is in my honor!” Hadiya teased. “You didn’t bring me any gifts, so this pudding will be my gift from you all. And besides, there are plenty of other desserts here.” “Fine,” Sameera smirked. “But first, at least taste it. Who knows if you’ll even be able to swallow a spoonful? After all, Ayesha made it herself.” Her joke was sharp, but I could do nothing except force a weak smile. I clenched my fists under the table, waiting for the disaster to unfold. Hadiya scooped a spoonful, lifted it to her lips, and—my heart stopped. “Wow!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up with joy. “This is delicious! I absolutely love it. And as promised, now this whole bowl is mine.” I froze. Could this be real? Or was she mocking me? But no, her excitement looked genuine. Relief washed over me. I made up my mind that Arsalan would surely be punished for scaring me with such a cruel lie. “I’ll just put this in the fridge to enjoy later,” Hadiya said cheerfully, picking up the bowl and leaving the room. When she returned, the atmosphere was lively again. We ate, laughed, and celebrated her success. Soon after, Sameera and Aafia left, and the house grew quiet. My curiosity, however, kept gnawing at me. “Hadiya,” I asked hesitantly once we were alone, “since this was my first time making pudding, I didn’t get a chance to taste it at home. Could you give me a little from what’s left?” “Of course,” she said warmly and went to fetch it. She came back holding the same large bowl and carefully transferred some into a smaller one for me. I took a spoon, smiling in anticipation—only for my face to crumple instantly. The taste was unbearable, like swallowing a bitter medicine. My eyes watered as I forced it down. “Hadiya! Is this the same pudding you enjoyed so much earlier?” I asked in shock. “Yes,” she replied with a broad smile. “The very same.” “But why? Why did you pretend it tasted good? And why did you taste it before anyone else?” Her smile softened into something wiser. “Because, Ayesha, I overheard you and Arsalan talking. I knew about the mistake. I ate it first so you wouldn’t have to suffer embarrassment. I wanted you to enjoy the meal without worry.” Her words struck me deeply. I looked at her with amazement. “But Hadiya, you never cover anyone’s faults. You’ve always been quick to point them out. Why would you hide mine today, and even endure this awful pudding?” She looked at me gently and replied, “Because even a misguided person can change their path. Allah guided me today. I realized that finding faults in others only hurts hearts. From now on, I want to protect, not expose.” Then she added, “And I’ve made another decision too. They say that if you hurt someone, Allah will not forgive you until that person forgives you first. So, I’ve decided to ask forgiveness from everyone I’ve ever mocked or hurt with my words.” I felt a wave of warmth in my chest. She reached for my hand and said softly, “Let me start with you, Ayesha. If my past teasing or gossip ever wounded your heart, please forgive me.” Tears welled up in my eyes. I hugged her tightly and whispered, “I forgive you. And I’m so glad you’ve made this change.” That day, my mistake with the pudding turned into something far greater—a reminder that people can change, that kindness heals, and that true friendship is about protecting one another, not exposing weaknesses.
By Ubaid 12 months ago in Fiction
The Heart of a Dog. Content Warning.
‎Author of the story (kamalali) ‎In a quiet village nestled between green hills and winding streams, lived a humble but kind-hearted man named Haji Bilal. He and his wife lived in a modest home with their two children, a son and a daughter. Though they didn’t have much in terms of money or possessions, their home was filled with love, laughter, and generosity. The villagers respected them for their honesty and simplicity.
By Asghar ali awan12 months ago in Fiction
Through the Keyhole
The door had never opened in my lifetime. It was as constant and unknowable as the spine of the house—paint layered until it shone like porcelain.. When we were children, my sisters pressed their ears to it, sure secrets were audible if you held very still. The key was gone, our mother said, with a practiced gentleness. “Gone with the old owners,” or “gone with the years.” Once, when I asked what was behind it, she wiped her hands on a dish towel and said, “A closet,” then, after a beat too long, “just old linens.”
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales12 months ago in Fiction
In Search of the Better Note
Prologue: The Seam The choice is so small the strangers on the platform do not notice. A train exhales, its breath a dragon’s plume rolling through the cold air. Overhead, a gull carves a white vowel across the morning sky, a sound older than the station, older than the city. The announcement board flickers and rearranges times like a conjurer’s deck of cards, numbers shuffling themselves toward destiny.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales12 months ago in Fiction