Shohel Rana
Bio
As a professional article writer for Vocal Media, I craft engaging, high-quality content tailored to diverse audiences. My expertise ensures well-researched, compelling articles that inform, inspire, and captivate readers effectively.
Stories (372)
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The Whispering Loom
A Tapestry of Forgotten Songs In the village of Threadhaven, where the hills bloomed with heather and the air hummed with secrets, there stood an ancient loom. It was no ordinary machine—its wood was carved with sigils that glowed faintly at dusk, and its threads seemed to shimmer with colors no dye could match. The villagers called it the Starloom, and they believed it wove the fates of those who dared to touch it. But no one had, not in living memory. It sat in the old mill, guarded by dust and whispers.
By Shohel Rana8 months ago in Fiction
The Paper Bird
The Paper Bird Mina lived in Apartment 4C, a tiny corner of the world filled with dried flowers, quiet books, and too much silence. The city buzzed around her like a distant memory—she heard it through thin walls and open windows, but she hadn’t stepped outside in 137 days.
By Shohel Rana8 months ago in Fiction
The Lantern Keeper
A Tale of Light and Secrets In the village of Dusk Hollow, nestled between jagged cliffs and a restless sea, the nights were never truly dark. A single lantern, suspended from an ancient iron post at the cliff’s edge, burned with an unearthly glow. It never flickered, never dimmed, and no one knew who kept it lit. The villagers called it the Sentinel, and they swore it guided lost ships to shore—or kept something far worse at bay.
By Shohel Rana8 months ago in Fiction
The Train That Waited
The Train That Waited Rain danced gently on the roof of the station as people bustled beneath umbrellas and faded signs. The 9:40 train to Merrow Hill stood quietly on Platform 3, its windows fogged by breath and time. It had been scheduled to leave fifteen minutes ago, yet not a single passenger complained. Some barely noticed.
By Shohel Rana8 months ago in Fiction
The Clock That Never Ticked
There was a clock in my grandmother’s house that never ticked. It hung above the fireplace—heavy, carved, ancient. The kind of thing you don’t question as a child. You just accept it. It was always midnight, or always noon. Depending on how you looked at it.
By Shohel Rana8 months ago in Fiction
Home Without a Map
I spent a long time trying to leave the place I came from. Not physically—though I did that, too—but emotionally. I tried to untangle myself from the soil that shaped me. As if I could uproot my past like a weed and toss it behind me, like it never mattered.
By Shohel Rana8 months ago in Fiction
Formation
A Tale of Cracked Geodes and Inner Light The old cabin smelled of pine and ink, its walls groaning under the weight of a thousand unwritten stories. Clara sat at the scarred oak table, her fingers tracing the edge of a geode she’d found by the river that morning. It was rough, unremarkable, a stone that could’ve been kicked aside by any passerby. But she knew better. She’d always known better. Inside, it held secrets—crystals waiting to dazzle, if only you dared to break it open.
By Shohel Rana8 months ago in Fiction
Cracked Open
I don’t remember the exact moment I began to form, only that something pressed against my brow. It wasn’t a physical hand, but a force—an ancient whisper, a call to awaken. Some days I imagine it was Phanes, the primordial light, brushing a thumb across the darkness of my mind. A touch that lit the fuse of my inner cosmos.
By Shohel Rana8 months ago in Poets
What Is Love?
What Is Love? It’s not just a feeling—it’s a lifelong echo of the soul. Love. A four-letter word that has inspired the greatest poems, the deepest heartbreaks, and the most unforgettable memories. Yet ask ten different people what love means, and you’ll hear ten entirely different answers. Some call it a spark. Others say it’s sacrifice. A few will point to a person. Some will speak with stars in their eyes, while others will talk with wounds in their voice.But beneath the definitions and the dictionary meanings lies something more profound: love is the quiet force that connects all living things. It's the soft thread that ties us to one another, not always loudly, but always meaningfully.
By Shohel Rana8 months ago in Poets
The Unexpected Bride
The Unexpected Bride When grace met destiny, wealth followed love ln a forgotten corner of a quiet village, nestled between fields of wheat and hope, lived a poor father and his only daughter. Their home was small, worn by time, but their hearts were rich in love and patience. The father, though burdened by poverty, worked tirelessly in his field, his hands cracked by the sun, yet never once did he complain. His only sorrow was that he could not offer his beautiful daughter the life he believed she deserved.
By Shohel Rana8 months ago in Poets
