Imran Pisani
Bio
Hey, welcome. I write sharp, honest stories that entertain, challenge ideas, and push boundaries. If you’re here for stories with purpose and impact, you’re in the right place. I hope you enjoy!
Stories (25)
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The Last Light in Room 312
The hotel was too quiet for a place so full. Detective Avery Knox noticed it the second they stepped inside. No chatter. No footsteps. Just the hum of old lights and the faint smell of cleaning chemicals that tried—and failed—to hide something worse.
By Imran Pisaniabout 20 hours ago in Fiction
The Silence Between Footsteps
Chapter One: The Body at Briarwood Manor Briarwood Manor had always felt like a place that watched you. It sat on the edge of the lake, all stone walls and tall windows, like it had secrets built straight into its bones. People in the nearby town called it historic. Others called it cursed. Detective Rowan Hale called it inconvenient—especially when the call came in at 6:12 a.m.
By Imran Pisaniabout 20 hours ago in Fiction
What Is Love?
The train station always smelled like rain and unfinished goodbyes. Mara loved it for that exact reason. She came there when she needed to feel small—when life felt too loud, too demanding, too sure of itself. The station didn’t expect anything from her. Trains arrived. Trains left. Nobody asked why.
By Imran Pisani9 days ago in Fiction
Raindrops and Stolen Glances
The city smelled of wet asphalt and blooming jasmine. Raindrops tapped rhythmically against the café window where Mr. Goggles sat, scribbling in his notebook. He had been coming here for weeks, drawn by the aroma of strong coffee and the soft hum of jazz, but today was different. Today, she walked in.
By Imran Pisani12 days ago in Fiction
The Skyforge Chronicles
In the village of Larkspire, where the rooftops were stitched with copper and the cobblestone streets hummed with ancient magic, young Elian lived a life far quieter than he wished. Most boys his age chased sparrows or kicked stones into the river, but Elian chased the sky. He’d climb the tallest hills, stretching his arms toward the clouds, imagining he could pluck a star and bring it down like a fallen leaf.
By Imran Pisani23 days ago in Fiction
A Sky Remembered
The sky was breaking. Not gently. Not beautifully. It tore itself open like a wound that refused to stay closed, blue clashing violently with flame as clouds spiraled into a burning ring above Cindervale. The air shook with every pulse of heat, and people fled the streets, screaming, praying, clinging to doorways as stone cracked beneath their feet.
By Imran Pisani23 days ago in Fiction
