Satire
The Girl Behind the Door
1. The Whispering House In the overlooked town of Elmbrook—where the wind murmured like a overlooked bedtime song and the crows roosted like prophets—stood an ancient, exhausted house. It had no title, but everybody called it The Wilt House. Children strolled quicker close it; older folks whispered supplications; and those who had once challenged to trespass carried their hush like a mystery curse.
By Muhammad Abdullahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Phone Call
The Last Phone Call Some calls aren't meant to be answered. By Darwesh The phone rang at 1:47 a.m. I hadn’t heard it ring in weeks — not since I moved to the cottage in the hills, far from the city, far from the memories. The landline came with the place. I never gave the number to anyone.
By Shafi Ullah Darweshabout a year ago in Fiction
My Grandmother’s Mirror Only Reflects the Dead
The Mirror’s First Secret I almost sold the mirror the day after Grandma Lillian’s funeral. It was an ugly thing—a heavy oak frame carved with twisting vines, the glass smoky with age. But Mom insisted: "She wanted you to have it. Said it was special."
By MUHAMMAD Abbasabout a year ago in Fiction
James” by Percival Everett: A Bold Reclamation of the American Canon
In James, Percival Everett does what few living authors dare—he takes a towering classic of American literature and flips it inside out. The result is nothing short of electrifying. A radical reimagining of Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Everett centers the story not on Huck, the mischievous boy narrator, but on Jim, the enslaved man whose humanity Twain only hinted at.
By Hamad Haiderabout a year ago in Fiction
The Slave Who Knew the Stars
Once upon a time, in the ancient kingdom of Zaheerabad, nestled between black mountains and golden deserts, lived a Prince named Kamraan, son of the mighty King Ubaid. The Prince was fair in face and feared in sword, taught in the philosophies of men but untouched by the lives of those beneath him. The palace was carved from marble, adorned with silk and mirrors, but behind its glistening curtains brewed storms invisible to the blind.
By Muhammad Abdullahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Garden of Mirrors: A Tale of Two Thrones
Part I: The Echoes of the Orchard In an ancient land where rivers whispered secrets and mountains bore silent witness to time, there existed two mighty kingdoms, separated by a sea of sand and centuries of silence. One was Zahran, a land veiled in mist, where the people believed that dreams were fragments of lost truths. The other was Elburz, whose people trusted only what the eye could see and the hand could hold.
By Muhammad Abdullahabout a year ago in Fiction
Shadows of Humanity
In the year 2075, the city of Nova Espera sprawled beneath a sky choked with ash, its neon lights flickering like the last breaths of a dying star. The world had fractured after the Great Collapse—decades of climate crises, wars, and unchecked AI had left humanity teetering. Amid the ruins, a new society emerged, divided between the gleaming towers of the Elite and the shadowed slums of the Forgotten. This is the story of Kael, a scavenger with a haunted past, and Aria, an android seeking her soul, whose unlikely bond would cast light on the shadows of humanity.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Silent Bell of Khorasan
Once, in the dusty and sun-scorned province of Khorasan, when the crescent moon hung like a blade in the heavens and kings were named after lions but ruled like foxes, there lived a monarch known as King Zulfiqar the Just—a title given not by the people, but carved in golden plates by his own court poets.
By Muhammad Abdullahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Cursed Goblet of Ghumra
Once, in the sun-baked kingdom of Ghumra, ruled a king whose name was Gharsheed—adorned in jewels, feared by thousands, praised by poets who were whipped if they dared otherwise. The throne was carved of tusks, the court was of gold, and the prisons—of bone. Justice, in his realm, was a servant that limped. Mercy was blind, and wisdom wore shackles.
By Muhammad Abdullahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Perfume of the Slave
Once, in the time when kings ruled with iron fists but claimed to wear velvet gloves, there was a land called Khumyar, veiled in gold but rotting beneath. Its courtyards echoed with poetry while its prisons bled with silence. The king, Jalib the Proud, had a beard as thick as his cruelty and eyes that glistened with suspicion. His court was filled not with wise men but with flatterers dressed as philosophers. The pen was praised, but the sword decided justice.
By Muhammad Abdullahabout a year ago in Fiction
