short fiction · 2026-10-07

After the Rain

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

The rain had ceased, leaving the world wrapped in a hush that felt less like absence and more like a held breath. Puddles lay still on the cobblestones, each a shallow mirror catching the gray light without disturbance. A single leaf, detached from the branch above, trembled at the edge of a puddle before sinking, sending out concentric rings that faded before they could reach the rim. In the distance, the muffled toll of a church bell echoed once, then dissolved into the damp air. No birds called, no wind stirred; the quiet lingered, thick and soft, as if the earth were listening to its own pulse.