Iazaz hussain
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Stories (60)
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The Whispers Beneath the Well
: The village of Dharmora was small—tucked deep within the mountains, where mist clung to the trees like ghostly fingers. Its people were simple, their lives quiet and unchanged for generations. But at the heart of the village stood an old stone well, long sealed with iron bars and bound in rusted chains.
By Iazaz hussain3 months ago in Horror
The Whispering Stars
The stars had always spoken to Arin. Ever since he was a child, lying on the dusty roof of his small home in the outskirts of the city, he would hear them whisper — faint, melodic voices carried by the night wind. His mother called it imagination; his father called it nonsense. But Arin knew better.
By Iazaz hussain3 months ago in Fiction
The Whispers Beneath the Lake
It was supposed to be a peaceful summer getaway. The kind of trip people take to forget the noise of the city, the tension of work, the exhaustion of existing. For Ava, the lake house her aunt left behind in her will was meant to be a place of healing. But the first night she arrived, she realized that peace wasn’t what lived there anymore.
By Iazaz hussain3 months ago in Horror
the Timekeeper’s Promise
In the heart of Eldoria, a city where time was measured not by hours but by heartbeats, there lived a young inventor named Kael. He was known throughout the city for his strange machines—devices that hummed, ticked, and shimmered with blue light. But his most ambitious creation was hidden deep in his workshop beneath the clocktower: The Timekeeper’s Heart — a mechanical clock said to control the flow of time itself.
By Iazaz hussain3 months ago in Fiction
The Whispers Beneath the Floor
1. The Move-In When Arif and his younger sister Sana moved into the old colonial house on the edge of Abbottabad, they were just looking for a fresh start. Their father had passed away six months earlier, and the city’s noise was too much for them.
By Iazaz hussain3 months ago in Horror
The Clockmaker’s Paradox
In the quiet village of Evershade, time moved differently. No one could say exactly how or why, but clocks always seemed a few minutes off, calendars lost track of days, and even the sun sometimes lingered too long before setting. The townspeople had long grown used to it, shrugging it off as one of Evershade’s strange little charms.
By Iazaz hussain4 months ago in Fiction
" When We Were Just a Song"
The First Note The rain had always reminded Zara of him. Every drop carried a rhythm that felt too familiar—soft, steady, and a little sad. She sat by her apartment window in Lahore, watching the world blur behind raindrops. Somewhere in that rhythm, she could still hear Ayan’s laughter — the boy who once taught her how to listen to music, not just hear it.
By Iazaz hussain4 months ago in Families
The Shadow in Room 313
It was already past midnight when Sarah’s car broke down on the lonely stretch of highway. Her phone had lost signal hours ago, and rain lashed against the windshield like a warning. She spotted the faint glow of a sign through the storm—“The Hollow Inn — Vacancy.”
By Iazaz hussain4 months ago in Horror
The Clockmaker’s Paradox
In the fog-drenched town of Evershade, where cobblestone streets whispered secrets and lanterns flickered like fading memories, there lived an old man known simply as The Clockmaker. His name was Elias Thorn, a quiet soul who spent his days surrounded by ticking gears, brass pendulums, and the soft hum of time itself.
By Iazaz hussain4 months ago in Fiction
The House That Waited
1. The Forgotten Lane When Aisha moved back to her hometown of Abbottabad after ten long years, she only wanted peace — a small house, a quiet street, and a new start. She’d lost her husband in an accident, and the city memories haunted her more than any ghost could.
By Iazaz hussain4 months ago in Horror
Whispers of the Broken Clock
---The Forgotten Café Rain dripped from the edges of the old café’s awning, tracing slow rivers down the glass window. Inside, the air smelled of coffee, cinnamon, and nostalgia. Every afternoon at 4 p.m., Emma sat at the same corner table by the window — a ritual she had kept for the last three years.
By Iazaz hussain4 months ago in Families
