short fiction · 2026-10-08

Echoes in the Hall

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

I walk the empty corridor, each step a soft tap against worn stone. The taps are not mine alone; they linger, thin as breath, repeating moments I have tried to forget. A laugh from a summer afternoon, the scrape of a chair when she left, the hush before a decision. They rise with each footfall, not as sound but as pressure, a request to be noticed. I pause, and the hallway holds its breath. The memories, like shy children, step forward, tugging at my sleeve, whispering, "Listen." I listen, and for a heartbeat, the corridor fills with all the voices I have carried, and I am no longer walking alone.