short fiction · 2026-10-15

The Quiet Push

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the cracked soil beside the old wall, a seed waited. No fanfare marked its stirring, only the slow swell of cells pushing against darkness. Each day it inhaled the faint moisture, each night it held its breath, trusting the unseen pull of gravity. Roots threaded like quiet thoughts, seeking purchase without hurry. When the first green tip finally broke the surface, it did not announce itself with color but with a humble bow, as if acknowledging the weight of earth that had held it. Growth, it seemed, was not a shout but a whisper that refused to stop.