Short Story

Timeless Insights from the Sufi Poet’s Heart
Rumi’s Eternal Wisdom: A Journey Through His Most Famous Quotes Timeless Insights from the Sufi Poet’s Heart Jalaluddin Rumi, the 13th-century Persian poet, scholar, and Sufi mystic, has left an indelible mark on the world through his words. His poetry, steeped in themes of love, spirituality, and the human experience, transcends time, culture, and language. Rumi’s verses invite us to explore the depths of our souls, embrace the divine, and find unity in a fragmented world. This article delves into some of his most famous quotes, unpacking their meaning and relevance for modern readers. Through these timeless sayings, we’ll journey into Rumi’s world of wisdom, where every word is a spark of enlightenment.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
Timeless Insights from the Sufi Poet’s Heart
Rumi’s Eternal Wisdom: A Journey Through His Most Famous Quotes Timeless Insights from the Sufi Poet’s Heart Jalaluddin Rumi, the 13th-century Persian poet, scholar, and Sufi mystic, has left an indelible mark on the world through his words. His poetry, steeped in themes of love, spirituality, and the human experience, transcends time, culture, and language. Rumi’s verses invite us to explore the depths of our souls, embrace the divine, and find unity in a fragmented world. This article delves into some of his most famous quotes, unpacking their meaning and relevance for modern readers. Through these timeless sayings, we’ll journey into Rumi’s world of wisdom, where every word is a spark of enlightenment.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Light of Knowledge: A Path to Divine Success
My dear brothers and sisters, As-salamu Alaikum wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatuh. Today, I stand before you not as a scholar, but as a humble servant of Allah, reflecting on a gift so profound, so transformative, that it shapes not only our lives but our eternal destiny—knowledge. The pursuit of knowledge is not merely a worldly endeavor; it is a sacred journey, a lantern that illuminates the path to Allah’s pleasure. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said, “Seeking knowledge is an obligation upon every Muslim.” Let us ponder this divine command and embark on a journey to understand how knowledge brings us closer to our Creator.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Day Everyone Got the Same Dream
Sarah Martinez thought she was losing her mind when she woke up at 3:47 AM on Tuesday, October 15th, drenched in sweat and haunted by the most vivid dream of her life. A massive digital countdown floating in an endless white void: 72:00:00. Seventy-two hours. And behind the numbers, a door—ancient, wooden, with intricate carvings that seemed to move when she wasn't looking directly at them.
By Muhammad Sabeelabout a year ago in Fiction
Beyond The Fog
It happened in 2012… One evening in Gulshan-e-Iqbal, Karachi something weird, kinda scary, and totally unexpected happened.
By Usamaabout a year ago in Fiction
The girl and her loyal Pup
In a quiet village nestled between rolling green hills, lived a little girl named Laila. She was seven years old, with curious brown eyes and a laugh that could brighten the gloomiest day. Laila lived with her grandmother after her parents moved to a nearby city for work. Though she missed them dearly, Laila never complained. Her days were filled with school, chores, and reading books under the old oak tree behind their house.
By Zubairabout a year ago in Fiction
I Searched My Friend on Spokeo and She Wasn’t Notified – My Real Experience
Disclosure: Some links, like Spokeo, are tools I’ve personally used and found helpful. If you choose to use them, I may earn a small commission at no additional cost to you. My recommendations are always based on genuine experience.
By Liora Fenwynabout a year ago in Fiction
When He Disappeared
Whit was the kind of boy you’d pass by without really noticing. He wasn’t shy in the usual sense—he just sort of melted into the scenery. Like one of those fading snow patches near the end of winter. Quiet, a little distant. Always watching. Always somewhere just on the edge of everything.
By Umar Aminabout a year ago in Fiction
I'm Still the Best
Wayland strode purposefully along the nearly deserted city street. The lack of fellow pedestrians worked to his advantage and disadvantage. He should be able to spot a tail sent by the opposition, but there was no crowd to blend into should he need to duck out of sight. In his line of work, every plus came with at least one and usually multiple negatives. The game, as Wayland liked to call it, generated an adrenalin rush he found intoxicating.
By Mark Gagnonabout a year ago in Fiction
Tapeworm . Content Warning.
It was easy after the girl. That worked out a bit better than I'd planned. I thought she might just get a broken leg, best case. Most likely, just some scrapes, and a lot of tears and snot. I thought I wouldn't have to sit through another evening listening to her prattle on about ponies. Well. I was right about that part. A broken neck? I knew it was possible, but I'd never imagined that might actually happen. Little nudges here and there, things moved or tampered with, a little pressure, some guilt... These things had got the father's arm in plaster, and sprained his ankle...but never actually claimed a life. I felt giddy when I heard. She'd died! Actually died! I did that! Me! It was a rush I hadn't expected. And it had happened while I'd been nowhere near. It wouldn't be connected to me at all. I'd got away with it! Another rush, nearly as powerful. Nearly enough to knock me off my feet. The baby wasn't so good. I mean, it's hardly a person is it? And it might not have been me. They ruled it cot death. Babies do die of that. Case in point, really. What kind of pathetic creature is in danger from sleeping of all things? Ridiculous. The father was even less good than that. For one, he's still breathing. He walked out of here on two good legs. OK, it was probably my fault, or mostly. But it didn't feel like it. I didn't think I'd get away with the death of another child, but I let the cogs turn in my brain, and kept my eyes open for a likely opportunity. If nothing presented itself, well, that was okay. For now. Maybe I'd push them out, manipulate them into living with their father. Or maybe I'd get rid of him properly. Make it look like he did a runner. Let them spend their lives looking for someone beyond reach. I'd intended to break her, the mother, but I hadn't counted on being so quick about it. Nor so thorough. Ah, well. I guess I get to see just how far a person can break. I'm torn between getting clean away with it, and letting her suspect just a little. Maybe I'll hont 1 might have had something to do with her daughter dying. See what effect that has. How much would she hate herself if she started believing it? After she's been sleeping with me? I bet sheld keep doing it though. I bet I could make her. I mean, she barely wants to now. You know, I reckon she could break a bit more. She's already looking hallow and scattered, how hard can it be to nudge her closer to madness? Just in case she does try to accuse me. The best part is only just dawning on me. I don't feel like a mis-matched puzzle piece anymore. I feel like I actually belong. This is my house now. She's mine. Soon, there'll be another baby (mine). I heard, as women get older, their chance of conceiving twins goes up. Wouldn't that be delicious? Replace those two in one go. It's all that, and more. It's this: She's as broken as I am, now. They all are.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
Leftovers from a summer. Runner-Up in The Summer That Wasn’t Challenge.
The summer was supposed to taste like mango juice on sticky fingers, like pool water scrubbing off all the bullshit we’d been carrying all year. It was supposed to feel like a reset. But it never showed up like that. Instead it crawled in through the dog’s infected ear canal, pulsing with pus and heat and that sour, dirt-brown stench of something festering behind a door no one opens anymore.
By Diaraabout a year ago in Fiction
Quarters. Winner in The Summer That Wasn’t Challenge.
To write about a summer that never was: aren’t there infinite? Isn’t there a summer when I was a little kid, and instead of wondering what it meant when my mom stood in my bedroom doorway and told me—on Father’s Day, mind you—that my dad was “hiding vodka” again, I was a happy kid with friends, my only worry a scrape or a bump that my young body would heal with haste? There has to be a summer where I wasn’t 15 and my first kiss wasn’t from the deadbeat, 22-year-old college dropout who worked with me at the local fast-casual Italian spot on the highway, and another one where I didn’t live off peanuts and banana chips during those sweaty, lonely couple of months in Philly between sophomore and junior year of college.
By GLabout a year ago in Fiction