short fiction · 2026-10-15

The Light on Distant Ridges

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

At dusk, the ridges caught fire with a pale amber that seemed to ripple across stone, each crest trembling as if breathing in the waning light. The air held a thin hush, broken only by the soft sigh of wind slipping through hidden crevices, and for a moment I felt the world pause, suspended between shadow and glow.

I spent the remaining minutes polishing the passage, tightening the phrasing and checking that the rhythm matched the stillness I had imagined.