MD SHAMIM RANA
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Stories (73)
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The Poet Who Wrote at Dawn
For authors, artists, and other creators, the early hours of the morning have long had a certain charm. The crispness of the air, the gentle light of the dawn, and the quiet of a world still asleep all seem to combine to produce a special environment that encourages creativity. One such poet, whose writings have stood the test of time, was renowned for his practice of penning at the crack of morning in order to capture the world's profound beauty before it was completely awake. The life and work of this poet is proof of the early hours of the day's potential as a creative haven.
By MD SHAMIM RANA10 months ago in BookClub
A Promise in the Morning Rain
Everything seemed to be cleansed by the early rain, and the world outside shone in the resulting gentle light. I met him in the little village of Windmere, which was tucked away on the outskirts of a mile-long forest. Instead of being a torrential downpour, the rain was a light mist that left the ground smelling delicious and damp. The world seemed to be waiting for something to happen, as seen by the unusually calm streets.
By MD SHAMIM RANA10 months ago in History
Morning Whispers in the Library
It was a delicate morning—one of those mornings when the world seemed to hold its breath, suspended between night and day—and inside the old library, rows upon rows of books stood like silent sentinels, their worn spines reflecting the glow of the morning sun. The air was heavy with the scent of old paper and dust, a mixture of age and wisdom that clung to the room like a comforting embrace. Emma loved this time of day, when the library was still asleep. The silence was never oppressive, but rather was full of the promise of stories yet to be told. Outside, the world was still quiet, as if the library had the ability to preserve time, to prolong the moments before the rest of the world rushed in.
By MD SHAMIM RANA10 months ago in History
A Morning of Second Chances
When Mia opened her eyes, the sun had just barely risen. The first rays of dawn streamed through the curtains, illuminating the room with a gentle, golden glow. For Mia, this morning was not just another day; it was the start of a second chance, one she had been waiting for for years but never imagined would ever materialize. The previous few years had been a haze of lost opportunities, unfulfilled promises, and errors that followed her down paths she never intended to take. However, this morning felt different, as though the world had exhaled, giving her a breath of fresh air and a moment of clarity that she had not experienced in a long time.
By MD SHAMIM RANA10 months ago in History
The Morning-Loving Witch
There once was a witch who enjoyed the mornings more than other witches of her type. The majority of witches, who resided in dimly lit cottages and gloomy groves, liked the night. Their ally was the darkness, which shrouded them in secrecy and mystery. Marisol, however, was ecstatic when she saw the first rays of morning.
By MD SHAMIM RANA10 months ago in History
At dawn, a melody was played.
With the tiniest hint of amber and gold coloring the horizon, the sky remained a blanket of gentle indigo. The promise of a new day and the aromas of grass caressed by dew were in the crisp, cool air. Not only did birds welcome the dawn, but they also started to stir, their soft singing filling the early calm. A tune started to emerge somewhere in the middle of the silent forest, far from the outside world. It was a haunting melody that bore the weight of emotion, longing, and history—a sound that had not been heard in a long time.
By MD SHAMIM RANA10 months ago in History
the Detective's Morning Case
The Call on the First Day of Quieter mornings had always been more pleasant for Detective Evelyn Carter. All she needed before tackling the day's mayhem was the delayed start of her coffee and the bustle of the metropolis outside her office window. But today would be different.
By MD SHAMIM RANA10 months ago in Education
Morning Notes Left on the Doorstep
The early morning light barely made its way through the curtains, illuminating the messy kitchen, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee curled around the edges of half-opened windows. It was the kind of morning that seemed to last forever—calm, quiet, and seemingly perfect in its simplicity. Emma, on the other hand, was far from at peace; she had barely slept the night before, her mind racing with ideas she could not quite grasp. Weeks had passed since the strange notes began showing up on her doorstep, each one written in elegant, looping script, signed with a single, bold crescent moon. Each note seemed to contain a different message, ranging from direct observations about her life to cryptic verses. At first, she assumed it was a practical joke, possibly from a neighbor, but as the days passed, the notes kept coming, and they always arrived at dawn.
By MD SHAMIM RANA10 months ago in History
The Coffee Shop of Fresh Starts
Like the tendrils of a lost memory, the morning fog clung to the streets of Havenbrook, a tiny town, and curled around streetlamps. Even after three weeks of living in the town, Emma Sinclair still felt alienated by the cold mist every morning. The warmth and the sound of the espresso machine were like a little piece of home when she entered The Copper Bean Café, which has been her favorite place since she moved here.
By MD SHAMIM RANA10 months ago in History
The Secret Behind the Morning Fog
According to appearances, Ashford was a typical town. It was a small village in a valley, where everyone knew one another and life had a steady beat. However, Ashford had a strange quality: every morning, a dense, almost unnatural fog would sweep in from the river, engulfing the houses, covering the streets, and drowning out all sound. The town seemed like an other universe during those foggy hours, but it would vanish as soon as the sun rose high enough to burn it away.
By MD SHAMIM RANA10 months ago in History
Morning Coffee and Old Memories
The quiet that had descended upon the house was softly broken as the gentle, golden sunlight flooded into the room. It was a peaceful prelude to the day's unavoidable activity, the kind of morning that seemed to last forever. It was the kind of morning when everything appeared to stop, giving you time to collect your thoughts, catch your breath, and hear the gentle hum of the world awakening. The time was ideal for coffee. I grabbed the well-known mug that was resting on the counter, its surface scratched and worn from years of use. After many mornings in my hands, the handle had been tenderly smoothed and the edges softened. As it had done for years, the cup had become a familiar part of my morning routine and never failed to reassure me. I poured the freshly made coffee into it, and the rich aroma instantly enveloped my senses like a comforting embrace as the steam rose in graceful swirls.
By MD SHAMIM RANA10 months ago in Education
