short fiction · 2026-10-17

Echoes in the Dust

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the quiet hallway of an abandoned house, a single trace of dust clung to the banister, a faint line where a hand had once rested. Though the house stood empty, the trace remained, a silent promise that touch leaves a mark that returns. Each time I passed, my fingers brushed the same spot, and the dust shifted, revealing the ghost of pressure. The trace was not a scar but a returning point, a place where memory and matter met, inviting the past to linger in the present.