Salman Writes
Bio
Writer of thoughts that make you think, feel, and smile. I share honest stories, social truths, and simple words with deep meaning. Welcome to the world of Salman Writes — where ideas come to life.
Stories (87)
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Imran Khan: The Man Who Refused to Bow
The story opens with a 70-year-old man sitting behind the walls of a prison. His name is Imran Khan. His “crime,” in the eyes of his opponents, is that he gave the youth of Pakistan a voice and a sense of purpose. Many had already written his political obituary, but those who knew him understood he was not someone who gave up easily. He was offered two choices: apologise and walk free, or stay behind bars. He chose to stand firm against the people he believed had looted his country.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Writers
The Last Letter of a Silent Night
The night had grown still. The room was dim, lit only by a weak bulb hanging in the corner. I sat on the bed with my phone in my hand, scrolling without purpose. My mind was heavy, and sleep felt far away. Suddenly, the screen lit up with a new message.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Confessions
The Window No One Opened
The wind rattled the loose glass of the attic window long before I reached the staircase. This old house had lived a hundred lives, but tonight it felt more alive than it had in years. Shadows gathered near the corners, thick and silent, as if they too remembered what happened here.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Fiction
The Room of Forgotten Lullabies
Half-open windows let in a dull grey light that had replaced the sun hours ago. The whole house felt suspended in a slow breath, as if holding itself together just long enough for someone to dare breaking the silence. I stood outside the old nursery, fingers brushing the wooden frame that still had dents where a tiny hand once knocked from the inside. Those knocks never reached me in time.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Fiction
The Day I Stopped Resisting God
I didn’t realize how long I had been fighting. Not the world. Not people. But myself. For years, I carried dreams that looked shiny on the outside but were hollow inside. I carried expectations that didn’t belong to me. I carried plans that seemed perfect to me, but were never part of the plan God had written for my life.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Writers
When I Finally Let God Carry Me
There comes a point in life when a person becomes tired. Not the kind of tired that comes from a long day or a sleepless night, but the kind that settles deep in the bones. A tiredness of the soul. I reached that point slowly, step by step, without even noticing how heavy my heart had become. I thought I was moving toward the future I wanted, pushing through storms because I believed my way was the only way. I fought every wave. I resisted every turn. I tried to fix every problem alone.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Poets
A World That Was Never Meant for Me
In a perfect world, my story would have never needed to exist. My mother would have grown up in a home where tenderness wasn’t rare. She wouldn’t have learned to turn herself invisible just to stay safe. She wouldn’t have confused silence with peace or obedience with love. She wouldn’t have fallen for the first man who made her feel noticed, even if the attention came wrapped in warning signs she had never been taught to read.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Writers
The Circle of Growing Up
I was six when life felt simple and my world was small. At that age, I believed one thing with complete confidence: my father knew everything. If a toy broke or I had a question about the stars, I ran straight to him. He always had an answer, and to me, he looked larger than life. I didn’t see his worries or his exhaustion. I only saw a hero who could fix anything with his hands and make anything feel safe with his voice.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Lifehack
The Forgotten Guardian of the Mountains
Introduction: The Silence of History History is often obsessed with the loud and the visible. It records the names of generals who conquered nations, politicians who drew borders, and poets who sang to crowds. But there is a different kind of heroism, one that exists in the absolute silence of the world’s forgotten corners. It is a heroism that seeks no applause and leaves no statues.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Pride
When the People Only Took the SLAPS…. AI-Generated.
Once upon a time, in a vast and ancient kingdom, there lived a king. He possessed all that a ruler could ever desire: a shining golden crown that sparkled in the sunlight, a grand throne carved from the rarest wood, and a palace whose marble halls echoed the footsteps of servants and soldiers alike. His empire stretched far and wide, and thousands of people bowed before him, offering loyalty and obedience.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Motivation
The Traveler of Silence. AI-Generated.
Night was deep and heavy. Clouds drifted across the sky like broken thoughts. The air was still, so still it felt like the world was waiting for something to happen. On a cold, empty road, a bus moved slowly forward. Its windows were fogged, and the dim yellow lights inside gave the passengers a blurry look.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Criminal
The 99 Gold Coins and the Curse of Never-Ending Desire
Once upon a time, in a land of rolling green hills, rivers that sparkled like diamonds, and cities that bustled with life, there lived a mighty and powerful king. He was the ruler of a vast kingdom, one of the richest realms the world had ever seen. His palace was a marvel of architecture, adorned with gold, silver, and gemstones from every corner of the earth. He owned countless treasures—chests of gold coins, sparkling jewels, silks from the East, spices from distant lands, and the loyalty of a mighty army.
By Salman Writes6 months ago in Writers
