short fiction · 2026-10-06

Echoes of the Oak

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

The ancient oak stood as a sentinel, its bark humming with a slow, steady pulse that matched the rhythm of a hidden heartbeat. Each breath of wind coaxed a faint thrum, as if the tree itself were breathing in time with some secret cadence. Beneath its sprawling roots, the soil seemed to echo, a low thrum reverberating through the earth like a drumbeat felt more than heard. In that moment, the forest fell silent, and I could feel the pulse of centuries syncing with my own quiet thoughts.