dailyprompt Archives

August 13, 2025August 13, 2025

I am super excited and need your help too

I am glad that I post regularly here. This helps me clear my mind, and any negative thoughts that build up over time.

Why I am excited 😊

I feel like I am a part of this large community where I can share my thoughts and ideas 💡

What am I doing?

Blogs and Book Writing:

I write blogs here and additionally I write books on mindfulness, repentence and related topics. I am currently writing a book titles ” Healing in Silence” I will share more details as I progress.

What else do I do?

I gave up my Job due to ongoing family and personal issues, health issues as well. However, I have not given up hope of bouncing back and reviving myself.

Following this I registered myself as a sole trader, where I could write as a freelancer and start a small business, this would be a social entrepreneur where I will donate a part of my income for good causes. My business name is Jazeez Store. Further details to come soon.

How do I plan to earn:

By writing blogs and books and other digital products.

I also do affiliate marketing where I write posts about products and upload videos on my YouTube channel “The Global Pulse by Zee”.

I coming weeks I am looking forward to introduce my own range of products. These would be Gifts sets with various themes, like gift ideas for Mindfulness, gift sets for students, teachers, nurses and so on. As I do not have means to do all of this in one go I would be starting slow.

How can you help me

Please do subscribe me here or on YouTube channel to help me grow. You can also donate to help me. This would be a big help, and to return this favor back I will endeavor to give back an appreciation gift of digital or non digital form.

Lastly, please do join in my journey to grow and make positive changes to lives of people who are struggling in some form or shape.

In today’s fast paced world 🌎 every one is going through struggles and even though the intensity of struggles might not be same for everyone their struggles and their personal outlook is unique in its own sense.

If this post has resonated with you, or if you feel we can make positive change together plead like,share, subscribe or comment

Thank you

Zoeb Ali – Zee

August 11, 2025August 11, 2025

I thought I had solution for every problem

August 10, 2025August 12, 2025

If I Opened a Shop…

If you were going to open up a shop, what would you sell?

Not all shops sell things.Some sell hope.Some sell change.Some sell the belief that kindness can be bought — and given away — in the same moment.If I opened a shop, it wouldn’t be just shelves and counters.It would be a beating heart wrapped in four walls,a place where each item whispered a storyand every sale became a seed of change.

I would call it “The Giving Corner.”A space where books breathe hope,where handcrafted treasures carry the touch of their makers,and where even the smallest purchaseripples out to feed a hungry soul,lift a struggling dreamer,or plant dignity where the soil was once barren.In one corner, my words would rest —poems, stories, and thoughts stitched with care,waiting for hands to hold themand hearts to carry them forward.Because to me, a shop is not a business.It’s a bridge.

A way to connect your kindness to someone else’s tomorrow.A place where buying becomes giving,and every transactionis just another way of saying,“You matter.”And if you walked out of my shop,you wouldn’t just carry a bag.You’d carry a piece of someone’s hope.

💬 Your turn: If you opened a shop, what would your walls hold — and what would it stand for?#SocialImpact #Entrepreneurship #KindnessInAction #PenByZee

August 8, 2025August 8, 2025

What change,big or small,would you like your blog to make in the world?

What change, big or small, would you like your blog to make in the world?

If I could ask for one change—just one—from the words I share here, it would be this:

That we remember how deeply we need each other.

Not just in moments of crisis, not just when headlines remind us of suffering, but in the quiet, everyday spaces of life. The way a kind word softens someone’s day. The way shared stories remind us we’re not alone. The way a simple act of giving—whether food, time, or listening—can be a turning point in another person’s life.

My blog isn’t just about ideas, it’s about connection.
It’s about building a place—however small—where we remember that compassion isn’t weakness, it’s strength. That empathy isn’t a luxury, but a foundation. That when we choose to lift one another, even in the smallest of ways, we are building something far greater than ourselves.

I want this space to be a quiet rebellion against indifference.

A reminder that even when the world seems hardened, you still have the power to soften it—through your words, your presence, your care.

What if we stopped seeing people as strangers… and started seeing them as stories waiting to be heard?
What if we treated kindness not as a random act, but a conscious practice?

That is the change I hope this blog brings.

To inspire a deeper commitment to helping one another, to showing up with honesty, and to creating community where no one feels invisible

Because the truth is:
The world doesn’t change because of grand gestures.
It changes because we choose, again and again, to care.

So let this blog be a place where care lives.
Where trust is nurtured.
Where hope is kept alive not through perfection, but through the simple, sacred act of showing up—for one another.

This is Zoeb Ali – Zee, wishing you all the good luck in whatever positive, small or big you are doing in your life to improve life of your loved ones, unknown individuals and families struggling and needing your love ❤ and help and yourself. Keep reading my posts and comment,like and share so I know if my words make any difference to you. Thank you for reading my posts.

December 13, 2024December 13, 2024

Tides of Destiny

Chapter Two: Echoes of the Past

Aileen sat cross-legged on the dusty floor of the locked room, the journal open before her like an illicit treasure. The flickering light of her lantern cast erratic shadows on the walls, and the mirror in the corner seemed to shimmer faintly, as though waiting for something—or someone.

Her fingers trembled as she turned the pages. Each entry was dated, but the handwriting varied, suggesting that the journal had passed through multiple hands. It wasn’t just a diary—it was a ledger of the house’s strange and sorrowful history.

“February 14, 1925.
He warned me that love in this house is never simple. The manor has its own will, its own desires. But how can a house desire anything? It’s just stone and wood, isn’t it?
And yet, I feel it watching me. It knows my heart better than I do.”

The name signed below the entry was Eleanor Rothschild. Aileen’s breath hitched. Rothschild. The name carried weight in Everspring’s history. The Rothschilds had been the original owners of Solace Manor, their wealth and influence unmatched. Yet their legacy was marred by whispers of betrayal, loss, and disappearances.

Aileen traced the faded ink, her mind racing. Could the woman in the mirror be Eleanor? And if so, what had happened to her?

As though answering her thoughts, the mirror rippled again. She looked up, her pulse quickening. The surface smoothed, and once more, the woman’s face appeared—Eleanor, as Aileen now suspected. Her features were delicate, framed by dark curls, and her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

Aileen rose cautiously, clutching the journal as she approached the mirror. “Who are you?” she whispered.

The figure in the mirror didn’t speak, but her expression grew more desperate. She raised a hand and placed it against the glass. Instinctively, Aileen did the same, her fingers brushing the cold, smooth surface. A jolt of energy surged through her, and for a moment, the room around her vanished.

Aileen found herself standing in the manor, but it wasn’t the decayed shell she knew. The walls were vibrant with fresh paint, the chandelier above her glittered like a constellation, and laughter echoed from unseen rooms.

She turned in awe, her heart pounding. This was the house as it had been in its prime. Servants bustled through the halls, their faces unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. Music drifted from the ballroom, a hauntingly beautiful melody played on a grand piano.

Aileen followed the sound, drawn like a moth to a flame. In the ballroom, she saw her—the woman from the mirror. Eleanor sat at the piano, her fingers dancing over the keys, her expression a mix of sorrow and determination.

Before Aileen could approach, a man entered the room. He was tall and striking, with dark hair and an air of authority. Eleanor looked up at him, her hands faltering on the keys.

“Damien,” she said, her voice trembling.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he replied, his tone sharp. “You know what this house demands.”

Eleanor rose, defiant. “I won’t let it take him. He’s my son, Damien. Ours.”

Aileen’s breath caught. A son? The conversation continued, but the words grew faint, drowned out by the sound of the wind howling through the room. The scene began to blur, and before she could process what she had heard, she was pulled back into the present.

Aileen gasped as she stumbled back, the journal slipping from her grasp. She was back in the locked room, the mirror still shimmering faintly. Her reflection stared back at her, but it felt like something—or someone—else was looking through her.

The journal lay open on the floor, its pages fluttering as though turned by an invisible hand. It stopped on an entry dated several months after the last.

“May 10, 1925.
I can no longer fight it. The house has claimed him, just as it claimed the others. Damien was right—we were foolish to believe we could outwit it. But I will not surrender. If there is a way to break this curse, I will find it, even if it costs me everything.”

The air in the room grew colder, and the lantern flickered violently. Aileen felt a presence behind her, and every instinct screamed at her to run. But she didn’t. Instead, she turned slowly, her heart hammering in her chest.

No one was there, but the door to the room was now wide open.

Aileen swallowed hard and stepped into the hallway. The house felt alive in a way it hadn’t before, as though it were aware of her presence. She clutched the journal tightly as she descended the stairs, determined to uncover more.

In the library, she found what she was looking for—a collection of ledgers and personal letters, all covered in a thick layer of dust. She began sorting through them, piecing together fragments of the Rothschild family’s history.

The more she read, the more she realized the curse Eleanor had written about wasn’t just a metaphor. It was tied to the manor itself, its origins shrouded in mystery. There were references to a Rite of Union, a ritual conducted by the original owners to bind their fates to the house in exchange for power and wealth. But the ledger also hinted at a terrible price—a bloodline cursed to suffer loss and betrayal for generations.

Aileen’s blood ran cold. If what she suspected was true, the curse didn’t end with the Rothschilds. Her grandmother’s insistence that she was the only one who could uncover the house’s truth now seemed less like a request and more like a responsibility she couldn’t escape.

As she sat back, exhausted but resolute, the lantern flickered again. The mirror in the corner of the library caught her eye, its surface rippling once more.

This time, she didn’t hesitate. She rose and approached it, ready to face whatever truth awaited her on the other side.