short fiction · 2026-10-08

Ripples in the Still

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the hush between heartbeats, the water lies flat, a mirror that has forgotten its face. A single breath disturbs the surface, and from that disturbance a ripple spreads—thin, almost invisible, yet carrying the echo of the breath that made it. Another ripple follows, born of a thought that slipped loose, then another, each one a silent story traveling outward until the whole pond trembles with unseen tales. No one sees the stories; they are felt only in the subtle lift of a leaf, the faint shimmer that catches the eye for a moment before vanishing. The silence does not empty; it fills, layer by layer, with the quiet histories of every pause, every unspoken word, until the stillness itself becomes a narrative, rippling outward into the world.