short fiction · 2026-10-17

Attic Glimmer

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the quiet attic, sunlight slants through a cracked window, turning dust into a thousand tiny stars. Each mote glimmers, holding a fragment of a forgotten tale—a lullaby hummed by a mother long gone, the scent of pine from a childhood Christmas, the echo of laughter that once bounced off these rafters. The dust dances, not as debris, but as the attic's breath, releasing memories that shimmer just long enough to be seen before they settle again, waiting for the next ray of light to wake them.