USAMA KHAN
Bio
Usama Khan, a passionate storyteller exploring self-growth, technology, and the changing world around us. I writes to inspire, question, and connect — one article at a time.
Stories (43)
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Dirty Dollar
The dollar was crisp, clean, and new—but it smelled of blood, secrets, and silence. New York City, 2023. In the heart of Wall Street, a young financial analyst named Ethan Cole stumbled across something he wasn’t supposed to see. It was just another Tuesday—a blur of screens, coffee, and numbers—until a hidden file named "Project Babylon" landed accidentally in his inbox. One click, and his life changed forever.
By USAMA KHAN9 months ago in The Swamp
A Mother's Love
"They called her mad. But if madness is loving your child beyond death, then let the world go insane." The villagers of Kohsar still whisper about the woman in the crimson shawl who waits by the old train station every Thursday, long after the trains stopped running through those mountains. Her name is Salma. But to those who remember her tragedy, she is simply known as The Waiting Mother.
By USAMA KHAN9 months ago in Fiction
Rain on Her Wedding
They say rain on your wedding day is good luck — a symbol of cleansing, new beginnings, and eternal bonds. But as Emma stood beneath the gray, weeping sky, her white gown soaked and clinging to her like second skin, luck was the last thing she believed in.
By USAMA KHAN9 months ago in Confessions
The Said Tomato
The Said Tomato In a forgotten corner of Granny Eloise’s garden, nestled between the rosemary bush and the rusted watering can, grew a single, odd tomato. Unlike the others, it didn’t rot or wither with age. It ripened, glowed a deep crimson... and one day, it spoke.
By USAMA KHAN9 months ago in Fiction
I Lose My Phone, Don't Lose Yours
It was a regular Tuesday morning — the kind that doesn't hint at chaos. I grabbed my bag, locked the door, plugged in my earphones, and stepped out for my daily commute. The train station was crowded as usual, people lost in their own worlds, eyes glued to their phones. I was one of them. Scrolling, texting, checking emails — all in the span of a few minutes. I didn’t realize that those few minutes were enough to change my whole day… maybe more.
By USAMA KHAN9 months ago in Confessions
The Clock That Cried at Midnight
The Clock That Cried at Midnight In a quiet corner of an old city street, there stood a dusty little antique shop. Inside were worn-out books, faded picture frames, and creaky old toys. But the most curious object in the shop was a very old clock hanging on the back wall. Its paint had faded, its hands were rusted, and every night at exactly midnight, it let out a soft, sorrowful sob.
By USAMA KHAN9 months ago in Fiction
The Paradox of Mirage Heart
The Paradox of Mirage Heart "A love stitched between echoes of a reality that never was" In the heart of the Zephiran Desert, where no map dared to trace and no compass spun straight, there existed a myth—a tale whispered among wandering tribes and mad poets. They called it the Mirage Heart.
By USAMA KHAN9 months ago in Fiction
She Danced in My Funeral
Written from the soul of the dead I was dead. Truly dead. I only realized it when I saw my own body lying in the casket, motionless, surrounded by flowers that smelled too sweet for something so tragic. People came, offered their condolences, cried a little… and left.
By USAMA KHAN9 months ago in Fiction
The Silent City
The Silent City There is a city where the clocks have stopped ticking. No footsteps echo on the pavements, no laughter seeps from windows, and no rustle of life stirs behind the bricks and stone. This city—once alive with rhythm, voices, and breath—now sleeps beneath a shroud of fog and forgetfulness. It is not a city lost to war or swallowed by disaster. No, this is a quieter vanishing. A softer erasure.
By USAMA KHAN9 months ago in Poets
