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The ghost of love ( written in English language )
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My name is Fatima bashir musa I’m not gonna say a lot about me but trust me my book are good insha Allah you gonna like it. I’ll drop my what’s app group link here so you can join Xan ajiye link na what’s app group don ku shiga👇🏻 ***
Sample · ECHEOS OF THE PAST
The rain fell in relentless sheets, turning the cobblestone streets into a shimmering, reflective surface that mirrored the heavy, brooding sky. Through the veil of rain, the imposing silhouette of Ahmed Manor loomed, its once grand facade now a ghostly shadow against the storm. The mansion stood on a hill, overlooking the quaint street below, a silent sentinel keeping watch over a hundred years of secrets.Sixteen-year-old suha Whitmore stood at the iron gates, her breath visible in the cold, damp air. She had always been drawn to the mansion's strange beauty, ever since she moved to the city with her aunt. The townsfolk whispered about the manor being haunted, tales of a young woman waiting for her lost love, a story that both frightened and fascinated suha.Clutching her sketchbook tightly under her coat, suha pushed the gates open, wincing as they creaked loudly. She glanced back at the street, half expecting someone to call her back, but the streets were empty. Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto the overgrown path leading to the manor.The front door, heavy and weathered, groaned as she pushed it open. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of age and decay. Dust motes danced in the dim light that filtered through cracked windows. Suha hesitated, the silence of the house pressing in on her, amplifying her racing heartbeat.Determined, she made her way to the grand staircase, her footsteps echoing in the vast emptiness. She had come here seeking inspiration for her art, hoping to capture the haunting allure of the mansion. But as she ascended the stairs, a chill ran down her spine. The air felt charged, as if the mansion itself was holding its breath, waiting for something or someone.Reaching the landing, Suha paused, her heart pounding in her chest. A soft, almost imperceptible whisper seemed to drift through the air, carrying a name she couldn't quite catch. She turned slowly, her eyes widening as she saw the faint outline of a young woman standing by the window, gazing out at the storm. The figure was dressed in a flowing white gown, her features delicate and sad.Suha blinked, and the figure vanished, leaving only a cold draft in its wake. She took a shaky breath and approached the window, where an old, faded painting hung on the wall. The woman in the portrait was the same as the one she had just seen a hauntingly beautiful young woman with sorrowful eyes."Who are you?" Suha whispered, reaching out to touch the painting's frame. As her fingers brushed the canvas, a rush of emotions flooded her mind love, loss, longing. She stumbled back, her heart racing.Downstairs, the sound of the front door closing startled Suha. She rushed to the banister and peered down, her eyes widening in relief as she saw her aunt, Hafsa, standing in the foyer, sha...
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