short fiction · 2026-10-16

The Loom of Unfinished Drafts

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the attic of my mind, a loom sits idle, its shuttle threaded with whispers of stories never told. Each draft a faint filament, trembling with potential, yet the pattern never catches, the cloth remains unwoven. I trace the silent thread with fingertips of longing, feeling the weight of all the endings that never began. The air hums with the ghost of ink, and I wonder if the act of waiting is itself a kind of creation.