Short Story
The Starling’s Song
In the heart of Cindersky, a city of soot-stained spires and cobblestone alleys, silence was a law. The bells of the great cathedral had not rung in a century, and music—once the city’s soul—was forbidden. The elders claimed it was for protection, that songs carried a power that had nearly destroyed Cindersky long ago. The people obeyed, their voices hushed, their lives gray as the ash that fell from the sky. But in the shadows, whispers spoke of the Starling, a figure whose melodies could wake the city or break it.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker’s Daughter
Nestled in the frostbitten valley of Glimmerfall, where the river sang beneath a crust of ice, stood a town that lived by the tick of its clocks. Glimmerfall’s heart was its clocktower, a spire of blackened stone that loomed over slate-roofed houses, its chimes marking every hour with unshakable precision. The townsfolk said the tower was a gift from the Clockmaker, a mysterious figure who’d built it centuries ago to keep time—and secrets—safe. But in Glimmerfall, time had a way of standing still, and secrets had a way of festering.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Weaver’s Thread
In the shadow of the Ironridge Mountains, where the wind carried whispers of ancient magic, lay the town of Threadhaven. Its narrow streets were lined with looms and dye vats, for Threadhaven was known for its tapestries, each one a masterpiece woven with threads that seemed to hum with life. The townsfolk believed their craft was blessed by the Weaver, a mythical figure said to spin the threads of fate itself. But blessings, as the people of Threadhaven knew, often came with a price.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Lantern Keeper
In the heart of the moorlands, where the wind howled like a grieving widow, sat the village of Eldermoor. Its cobblestone streets, worn smooth by centuries of boots and rain, wound through rows of stone cottages, their thatched roofs sagging like tired shoulders. The village was a relic, forgotten by time, its people bound by stories older than the hills. Among these tales was one of the Lantern Keeper, a figure both revered and feared, whose light was said to guide lost souls—or lead them astray.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Fault in Our Stars
Hazel Grace Lancaster was sixteen, living with terminal thyroid cancer that had spread to her lungs. Every breath was a struggle, made easier only by an oxygen tank she carried everywhere. Her world was limited—books, TV, occasional classes, and the constant presence of her parents, who tried to keep her spirits up despite the looming truth. Life felt like a waiting room before death, until everything changed at a support group meeting in a church basement. That was where she met Augustus Waters. Augustus, or “Gus,” was seventeen—handsome, witty, and in remission after losing a leg to osteosarcoma. He had a confidence and charm Hazel hadn't seen in a long time. He joked, flirted, and looked at her like she wasn’t just a sick girl—but a person with fire and meaning. From their first conversation, Hazel knew this boy was different. They exchanged books. Hazel gave Gus her favorite novel, An Imperial Affliction, by the mysterious author Peter Van Houten. The book ended mid-sentence, unresolved, and Hazel always wondered what happened to the characters afterward. Gus was captivated by the story too and promised to help her find the ending. Their friendship quickly blossomed into something more. They talked for hours, laughed at dark jokes only cancer kids could understand, and shared their fears. Hazel was afraid of hurting people by dying. Gus was afraid of being forgotten. Determined to give Hazel the answers she longed for, Gus reached out to Van Houten, who lived in Amsterdam. To their surprise, the reclusive author responded—though cryptically. With the help of a cancer charity, Gus arranged a dream trip to Amsterdam for them both, with Hazel’s mom tagging along. In Amsterdam, romance bloomed fully. They walked along canals, visited the Anne Frank House, and finally met Van Houten. But the meeting was a disaster. Drunk and bitter, the author refused to answer Hazel’s questions. The fictional world she’d clung to unraveled. But even as her dream crumbled, Gus stood beside her. He kissed her in the attic of Anne Frank’s house, surrounded by history and pain, defying the cancer that tried to erase joy from their lives. Then Gus told her the truth. His cancer had returned. It had spread everywhere. He was dying. Hazel’s world shattered. She had tried so hard not to fall in love, not to burden anyone with her death—but now she was the one who would have to watch someone she loved slip away. They returned home. Gus’s health declined rapidly. He became weaker, unable to care for himself. Hazel visited him every day, cherishing each moment even as the fear of losing him tightened around her chest. Gus had once dreamed of being a hero, of doing something extraordinary. But now, confined to a wheelchair, vomiting and exhausted, he wondered if his life had meant anything at all. But to Hazel, he was already extraordinary. Gus died eight days after his pre-funeral, a mock ceremony he arranged where he asked Hazel and their friend Isaac to give eulogies while he was still alive. He wanted to hear what people would say about him. Hazel told him that she would always love him, even in pain. “You gave me a forever within the numbered days.” After his death, Hazel discovered that Gus had secretly written to Van Houten, asking him to help Hazel find peace after he was gone. Moved by Gus’s words, Van Houten reached out again—this time sober—and shared a bit of his own pain: the novel Hazel had loved was inspired by his own daughter, who died of cancer. He apologized and left her with a letter. In it, Augustus wrote: > “You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world... but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.” Hazel read the words over and over, tears falling, a quiet smile on her face. She liked her choices too. --- 🌟 Moral of the Story The Fault in Our Stars is not just a story about illness. It’s a story about living fiercely in the face of death, about finding light even in darkness. It teaches us that love is worth the pain, and even a short life can be filled with meaning, if lived truthfully and with heart.
By SULAIMAN SHAHabout a year ago in Fiction
The Hell We're Born Into. Content Warning.
The Hell We're Born Into Reincarnation, the Journey Toward Heaven By Joey Raines Description: A young man is born with mysterious voices screaming in his head, voices that claim to be his own memories from lives he's not currently living. As he grows older, these whispers reveal a horrifying truth about the nature of existence itself, forcing him to confront a reality far more terrifying than death. A psychological horror story about memory, identity, and the price of understanding truths that were meant to stay hidden.
By Joey Rainesabout a year ago in Fiction
Beginning-Endings Unofficial Challenge WINNERS
Well, this is embarrassing. I promised to announce the winners for this unofficial challenge nearly two full weeks ago - and here we are, winners unnanounced, zero updates from me, and a near total absence from the writing, reading, challenge-submitting, and commenting scenes on Vocal. OUCH.
By Gabriel Huizengaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Lantern Keeper
The Lantern Keeper The sea was restless that night, its waves crashing against the cliffs like a song that couldn’t find its rhythm. I was Lila, sixteen, with salt in my hair and dreams too big for our tiny coastal village. Every evening, I’d climb the winding path to the old lighthouse, where my father, the lantern keeper, tended to the light that guided ships home. The lighthouse was our family’s legacy, its beacon a promise to sailors that they’d find safe harbor. But to me, it was more—a gateway to stories of the world beyond the horizon.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
