short fiction · 2026-10-10

Echoes in the Stone Hall

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

I spent my free time wandering through a hallway of old lighthouse stones, where the walls hummed with voices that never left. They pressed against the cracks like invisible hands, each unspoken word a stone in a pocket I could not empty. The air throbbed with the echo of doors that never opened, and the floorboards whispered stories of ships long forgotten. I listened to my own breath, trying to untangle the knot of what was left unsaid, feeling how each hidden syllable lingered like dust motes in a shaft of moonlight. In that stillness I understood that some voices are not heard; they are felt, and their silence is louder than any shout.