Urban fables

 

Urban Fables for a Tired World
By Faraz Parvez (Pen Name of Professor Dr. Arshad Afzal)
farazparvez1.blogspot.com

Urban Fable #1: The Man Who Bought Silence

In the noisiest part of the city—where horns never slept and gossip crawled through keyholes—lived a man named Altaf. He worked in a call center by day, and by night, he heard the city inside his skull.

One evening, half-mad from insomnia and endless chatter, he found a strange man in the alley selling jars of silence.

"Guaranteed quiet," the man said. "Just open one near you."

Altaf bought three jars. He opened the first in traffic—it swallowed the honking whole. The second he opened at work—no more clacking keyboards or endless meetings. The third he saved for his apartment.

When he opened it, the silence was so perfect it erased the ticking clock. The buzzing fridge. Even the hum of his thoughts.

He tried to scream.

But silence had taken his voice too.

Now he sits in a soundless room. Peaceful. Forever mute. And the city outside wonders why the noisiest man disappeared without a sound.

Urban Fable #2: The City That Ate Dreams

There was once a city where dreams were taxed.

The moment you imagined a better life, officers knocked on your door demanding payment. Hope had a price. Daydreams had interest. Nightmares, however, were free.

People learned to stop dreaming. Children were told to stop imagining they could fly. Artists painted beige walls. Writers only copied manuals. Musicians played jingles.

Then came a girl who dreamed every second—on purpose.

The city sent its collectors. She smiled. "I will pay," she said. "But you must come into my dream to collect."

They entered.

None came back.

The city grew worried. Then afraid. Then silent. And one by one, people began dreaming again.

The girl? She lives in all of them now. A whisper in every wild thought. A rebel with stars in her pocket.

And the city that ate dreams?

Now it feeds them instead.

Urban Fable #3: The Elevator That Led to Yesterday

In an old office tower no one remembered building, there was an elevator with no floor numbers.

People said if you pressed the center button, it took you to a day you regretted. Only once. No second chances.

A man with a broken marriage tried it.

He found himself on the morning he said something cruel he could never take back.

He said something kinder instead.

When he returned, his phone was full of loving messages. The bitterness was gone. But the guilt stayed. So he pressed the button again.

The elevator didn’t move.

It only works once, said the mirror inside.

He now stands beside the elevator, warning others.

“Say what matters the first time. Don’t wait for buttons that may not exist tomorrow.”

Why We Tell These Stories
Because the city may be concrete, but the soul still drips in myth.

Because every urban life is a fable in disguise.

Because you're still dreaming, aren't you?

Read more on:
farazparvez1.blogspot.com
Visit. Reflect. Share.
Because stories save cities.

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