Shehzad Anjum
Bio
I’m Shehzad Khan, a proud Pashtun 🏔️, living with faith and purpose 🌙. Guided by the Qur'an & Sunnah 📖, I share stories that inspire ✨, uplift 🔥, and spread positivity 🌱. Join me on this meaningful journey 👣
Stories (126)
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The Bandits, the Jewels, and the Cheeks
The Desert Express was rattling through the endless dunes under a wild desert sky. Inside the train, passengers dozed, munched on dry dates, or argued about politics no one cared about. But one man couldn’t sit still. His eyes kept darting left and right, like a cat planning to steal milk.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Humor
When Love Ends Quietly
"The Day Everything Changed" I never thought it would end like this. No shouting. No slammed doors. No angry words thrown across the room. Just silence. Just an ordinary day that suddenly became the day when everything shifted, when the love I thought would last forever quietly came to a close.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Psyche
The Terminal – Part One
Julian Mercer awoke with a stiff groan, his cheek pressed against the cold wooden slats of a bench. His neck ached as he sat upright, vertebrae popping, the sour taste of sleep heavy in his mouth. The overhead glow of fluorescent bulbs stabbed at his eyes, a sickly yellow glare that made everything look jaundiced and unreal.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Horror
he Final Departure Part Three – The Conductor
The Final Departure Part Three – The Conductor Julian sat rigid on the bench, knuckles white around the handle of the suitcase that wasn’t his. The voices of the lost passengers filled the station now—low murmurs, the occasional sob, the dragging thud of ruined bags over stone. None of them looked at him, but he felt swallowed by their presence.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Horror
The Final Departure Part Four – The Final Boarding
The sound came first: a grinding roar that shook the walls of the station, vibrating through the steel beams above. Then came the light—two blazing orbs far down the tunnel, cutting through the black like the eyes of some enormous beast.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Horror
The Last Innings
There is a cricket ground in our village that looks empty now, though it is never truly silent. If you stand on its edge in the late afternoon, when the sun begins to drown itself in the horizon, you can almost hear echoes of the past—the crack of the bat, the laughter of boys, the urgent shouts of fielders chasing a red tennis ball across the dusty earth.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Fiction
