short fiction · 2026-10-13

Rain's Erasure

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

The rain came not as letters but as a slow eraser, dragging its damp finger across the ink. Words blurred at the edges, then softened into ghosts. 'Remember' became 'remem' then 'rem' then just a damp smudge where meaning had been. In the puddle's reflection, the sky wrote its own version: upside-down and trembling, a language of light and water. I watched the page lose its certainty, and found that in the loss, there was a kind of gaining—each vanished word leaving space for the rain's own quiet sentence, written not in symbols but in the shape of absence.