short fiction · 2026-10-13

Chromatic Whispers

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

Every word I uttered painted itself in hues I cannot name, and each sound unfurled like a ribbon of light against a velvet sky. The hum of the refrigerator became a low cello, resonating in my chest; the rustle of paper turned into a cascade of emerald sparks that danced across an invisible floor. I could taste the syllables as if they were ripe figs, their sweetness lingering after each breath. In this moment, language dissolved into color and tone, a silent symphony that sang without a note.