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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Embers of Ambition
Embers of Ambition From Ruin to Revolution In a parched village where dust clung to every hope, a boy named Vikram scratched out a living at nine, selling wilted flowers by the roadside. His parents, laborers in a brick kiln, toiled under a merciless sun, their bodies bent by years of burden. Their home was a mud hut, its walls cracked like the earth itself. Yet Vikram’s eyes held a quiet fire, a yearning that flickered even as hunger gnawed at his bones.
By Shohel Rana6 months ago in Poets
Light from the Shadows
Light from the Shadows A Journey from Despair to Destiny In a forgotten corner of a coastal town, where the sea whispered promises it never kept, lived a boy named Kiran. At ten, he wandered the fish markets, sorting rotten catch for pennies to feed his widowed mother and younger sister. Their home was a shack of driftwood and tarp, trembling against monsoon winds. Hunger was a constant companion, but Kiran’s mind flickered with a restless curiosity, sparked by the broken radios and wires he salvaged from the shore.
By Shohel Rana6 months ago in Poets
Born of Grit
Born of Grit A Tale of Tenacity and Triumph In a sun-baked alley of a sprawling shantytown, where hope was as scarce as shade, lived a boy named Sameer. At nine, he roamed the streets, collecting plastic bottles to trade for a handful of coins. His father, a rickshaw puller, toiled until his lungs gave out; his mother sold wilted vegetables at the market’s edge. Their one-room shack sagged under the weight of poverty, but Sameer’s spirit refused to buckle. In his pocket, he carried a tiny, broken calculator, its cracked screen a mystery he longed to unravel.
By Shohel Rana6 months ago in Fiction
A Spark in the Ashes
A Spark in the Ashes The Rise of a Visionary In a dusty village on the edge of nowhere, where the sun scorched the earth and dreams withered before they could bloom, a boy named Ravi scraped out a living. His home was a lean-to of corrugated metal, shared with his grandmother, whose hands were gnarled from years of weaving baskets to sell at the market. Ravi, barely ten, hauled water from a distant well, his thin arms trembling under the weight of dented buckets. Life was survival, nothing more. Yet, in Ravi’s eyes burned a quiet defiance, a spark no hardship could snuff out.
By Shohel Rana6 months ago in Motivation
From Dust to Dreams
From Dust to Dreams A Journey of Resilience and Redemption In the shadow of a crumbling slum, where the air was thick with despair and the ground littered with broken dreams, lived a boy named Arjun. Barefoot and clothed in rags, he scavenged through piles of refuse each dawn, his small hands sifting for scraps to sell. His mother, a frail woman with eyes hollowed by hunger, stitched torn garments under the flicker of a kerosene lamp. His father was a memory, lost to illness when Arjun was barely five. Life was a relentless grind, but Arjun’s heart held a flicker of something unyielding—a quiet, stubborn hope.
By Shohel Rana6 months ago in Poets
The Mirror I Couldn’t Face
The Mirror I Couldn’t Face How a Drag Show in a Small Town Helped Me Embrace Who I Am In the fall of 2025, I stood backstage at a dive bar in my small town, clutching a secondhand sequined jacket and wondering what the hell I was doing. At 27, I’d spent years dodging mirrors—not just the physical ones, but the ones that forced me to confront who I was. I’d known I was queer since I was a teenager, but growing up in a place where “different” was whispered like a dirty word, I’d buried that truth deep. That night, at the town’s first-ever drag show, I was about to step into the spotlight as Ruby Star, my drag persona, and I was terrified.
By Shohel Rana6 months ago in Fiction
The Song That Found Me
The Song That Found Me How a Broken Guitar and a Stranger’s Melody Gave Me Back My Voice In the spring of 2025, I found a guitar in a dumpster behind my apartment building. It was a battered thing—cracked body, missing a string, the kind of instrument nobody would look at twice. I hadn’t played music in years, not since I was a teenager dreaming of coffeehouse gigs and a life as a singer-songwriter. Life had other plans: a string of dead-end jobs, a breakup that gutted me, and a creeping fear that my creative spark was gone for good. But something about that broken guitar called to me, so I fished it out, dusted it off, and brought it home.
By Shohel Rana6 months ago in Fiction
The Library of Strangers
The Library of Strangers How a Tiny Notebook in a Public Library Connected a Divided Town In the summer of 2025, I found a notebook that changed how I saw my town. It was tucked on a shelf in our local library, a small brick building that had somehow survived budget cuts and digital everything. The notebook wasn’t part of the collection—no barcode, no Dewey Decimal number. Just a plain, spiral-bound thing with a faded blue cover and a handwritten title on the first page: The Library of Strangers. Below it, in neat cursive, were the words: “Write something true. Leave it for someone else.”
By Shohel Rana6 months ago in Fiction
The Last Arcadian
The summer of 2025 was when I found Arcadian’s Last Stand. It was tucked in the back corner of a crumbling arcade at the edge of town, a relic from the ‘80s that somehow survived the rise of VR and mobile gaming. The cabinet was scuffed, its paint chipped, but the screen glowed with a pixelated spaceship dodging waves of alien attackers. I was 29, burned out from a soul-crushing desk job, and hadn’t touched a joystick since I was a kid. But something about that game called to me, like a signal from a forgotten part of myself.
By Shohel Rana6 months ago in Poets
Finding Light in the Fog
The fog was thick that morning, the kind that swallows the world whole. It clung to the grass, wrapped around the trees, and blurred the edges of everything, including me. I stood at the edge of the park, my breath shallow, my chest tight with the familiar weight of anxiety. It wasn’t a new feeling—more like an old, uninvited guest who’d overstayed their welcome. But that morning, something shifted. That morning, I took my first step into the fog, and it changed everything.
By Shohel Rana6 months ago in Fiction
