Raza Ullah
Bio
Raza Ullah writes heartfelt stories about family, education, history, and human values. His work reflects real-life struggles, love, and culture—aiming to inspire, teach, and connect people through meaningful storytelling.
Stories (60)
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When Silence Spoke the Loudest
The clock ticked louder than usual in the small living room, as if it too could sense the weight in the air. The lights were on, but the warmth had long left the house. Sana sat on the far end of the couch, arms folded, eyes fixed on the floor. Across from her, Ali stood by the window, pretending to watch the street outside, though his mind was far away.
By Raza Ullah7 months ago in Families
The Warmth in Her Shawl
In the heart of a small village, where the sky blushed orange at dawn and the birds sang as if they knew every household secret, lived a woman called Nani Amma. Her real name was Fareeda Begum, but to everyone—family, neighbors, shopkeepers—she was simply Nani Amma.
By Raza Ullah7 months ago in Families
Whispers of the Old Oak
In a quiet village lined with ancient trees and red clay rooftops, lived a man known to everyone as Baba Jan. His real name was Haji Ghulam Qadir, but to his grandchildren, he was simply their story-keeper, tree-climber, mischief-defender, and secret friend.
By Raza Ullah7 months ago in Families
Her Hands, Our Home
In a modest town surrounded by mustard fields and sleepy roads, lived a woman named Sofia. She was not a famous figure, nor someone who appeared in newspapers or on television. Yet, in the hearts of her children, she was a giant—a warrior, a teacher, a healer, and a home all in one.
By Raza Ullah7 months ago in Families
The Silent Strength
In a small village nestled between lush green hills and the steady flow of a river, lived a humble carpenter named Rahman. He wasn’t a man of many words, nor did he wear his emotions openly. His hands were rough from years of chiseling wood, and his back slightly bent from long hours at his workshop. But behind those calloused hands and tired eyes was a heart that beat only for his children.
By Raza Ullah7 months ago in Families
The Last Ice Whisper
Far in the northern reaches of the world, where daylight danced across icy peaks and stars glittered like frost in the sky, there stood a quiet village called Glaciera. Surrounded by frozen rivers, towering snowbanks, and endless sheets of white, the village lived in a timeless world of winter.
By Raza Ullah7 months ago in Earth
The Smallest Act
In the crowded city of Noorabad, where life moved fast and people rarely stopped for anything, lived a twelve-year-old girl named Amina. Her family lived in a small, rented apartment at the edge of the city. Her father, Mr. Kaleem, was a hardworking rickshaw driver, and her mother sewed clothes at home to make ends meet. They didn’t have much, but they had something special — love, warmth, and kindness.
By Raza Ullah7 months ago in Humans
The Empty Chest
In a peaceful village tucked between green hills and silver streams, there lived a man named Haris. He was known for one thing above all else — his hunger for gold. While others found joy in family, music, or nature, Haris only smiled when he counted coins.
By Raza Ullah7 months ago in Humans
The Mirror Inside Me
Twelve-year-old Zayan stood silently at the back of his classroom, avoiding eye contact with everyone. He always felt like his voice was too soft, his thoughts too silly, and his ideas not worth sharing. Even when he knew the right answer, he let his hand stay down. Fear whispered in his ear every time he tried to speak up: What if they laugh? What if I’m wrong?
By Raza Ullah7 months ago in Humans
Echoes of Tomorrow. AI-Generated.
The year was 2087. Earth had changed — not in the loud, destructive way that science fiction had once predicted, but in quieter, subtler strokes. Cities had grown taller, skies cleaner, and machines smarter. Yet the one question humanity had never stopped asking remained: What will happen tomorrow?
By Raza Ullah7 months ago in Futurism
Whispers of the Wooden Soul
In the heart of a vast and ancient forest, where the air was rich with birdsong and the rustling of leaves told forgotten tales, a young tree sprouted. He was an oak, strong and full of promise. Sunlight danced on his small leaves, and the earth beneath held him gently like a mother’s hand. His name, known only to the wind, was Warden.
By Raza Ullah7 months ago in Earth
