Farhad

Joined November 2025

79 stories

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Stories (79)

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Half the Sky, Unequal Ground
The town of Larkspur prided itself on tradition. Its streets were named after founders, its laws shaped by old habits, and its people comforted by the belief that “this is how things have always been.” On the surface, it was peaceful. But beneath that calm lived an imbalance so familiar that most no longer noticed it.
By Farhad2 days ago in Humans
When the Toys Remember Us
In the corner of the room, where dust learns patience, they sit— the toys— keepers of a language once spoken fluently by small hands and fearless hearts.
By Farhad2 days ago in Humans
The Weight We Choose to Carry
The town of Harrow field was not marked on most maps. It was the kind of place people passed through without stopping, where streets remembered footsteps longer than faces, and where duty was not spoken loudly but lived quietly. In Harrow field, responsibility did not arrive with applause; it arrived with the morning bell, the creak of old doors, and the steady expectation that everyone would do what needed to be done.
By Farhad2 days ago in Motivation
My Love, Written Between Heartbeats
I never planned to fall in love with you. Love, I believed, was something loud—grand confessions, dramatic moments, promises shouted into the world. I thought love arrived like a storm, unmistakable and impossible to ignore. But you came into my life like morning light—soft, patient, and so natural that I didn’t realize when everything changed.
By Farhad5 days ago in Marriage
The Day Silence Spoke
The morning silence arrived before anyone noticed it. In the town of Greyhaven, mornings were usually busy with small, familiar sounds—the hum of distant traffic, the clatter of cups in kitchens, the low conversations drifting from open windows. But on this particular day, the world awoke wrapped in something strange. There was no wind brushing against leaves, no birds greeting the dawn, no footsteps echoing on stone paths. Even the clock tower at the center of town stood frozen, its bell unmoving, as if time itself had forgotten how to make noise.
By Farhad5 days ago in Motivation
When the Sky Learned to Whisper
Snowfall always began without permission. It did not knock on doors or announce its arrival with trumpets. It simply came—softly, steadily—like a thought that enters the mind when the world finally grows quiet. On the morning the first snow fell in the town of Alder brook, the sky was the color of pale milk, and the air carried a silence so deep it felt sacred.
By Farhad5 days ago in Earth
Once Open a Time
Once open a time, not once upon a time, but open— like a window that forgot how to close, like a book that learned to inhale,
By Farhad6 days ago in Fiction
The Quiet Flame of Knowing
In a small town tucked between dusty hills and a narrow river, there lived a boy named Aarin. The town was not poor in land or people, but it was poor in questions. Life there moved like an old wheel—turning every day in the same direction, creaking but familiar. Children grew into adults, adults grew into elders, and most people believed that this was all life could ever be.
By Farhad16 days ago in Education
Whiskers of a Small Sun
You entered my life without a trumpet, no parade of promises, only the soft punctuation of paws on the floor, a sentence ending and beginning at the same time.
By Farhad16 days ago in Art
The Quiet Power of a Homily
The church bell rang with a sound that seemed older than the town itself—deep, steady, and patient. It echoed through narrow streets, over small houses with worn roofs, and into the hearts of people who had learned to measure their weeks by its call. On this Sunday morning, the bell did not know that something unusual was about to happen. It rang as it always had, faithful and unchanged.
By Farhad22 days ago in Humans
The Previous Second
The previous second does not announce itself. It does not knock, does not clear its throat, does not ask to be remembered.
By Farhad22 days ago in Motivation
The Memory of Ice
Ice was born without noise, without applause, without the drama of flame. It arrived as a pause in motion, a held breath of water
By Farhad22 days ago in Poets