short fiction · 2026-10-07

Lullaby for the Unseen

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

When the last eye turns away from the sky, the stars begin their quiet dreaming. Not of supernovae or silent voids, but of the warm weight of a child's hand pointing upward, of a lover's sigh caught in the breath of a winter night. They dream in wavelengths we cannot feel, in the slow pulse of hydrogen turning to helium, in the lullaby of gravity's embrace. And when someone looks up again, they catch the echo of a dream just fading, like a smile that lingers after the face is gone.