short fiction · 2026-10-16

Echoes in Sediment

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

Rain taps the hillside, a quiet drummer on stone, each drop a syllable seeking the hollows where memory lies. It does not wash away but seeps, carrying the faint ink of old names into the mineral grain, where they crystallize over centuries. What was spoken in breath becomes a vein of quartz, a faint glow when sunlight strikes the cliff at dawn. The landscape remembers in layers, not in voices, and we, passing, hear only the hush of water working its slow transcription into the earth.