short fiction · 2026-10-17

The First Draft of Stillness

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

I sit at my desk as the night deepens, the lamp a solitary star casting soft shadows. My notebook waits, its pages empty, echoing the quiet I have cultivated. I open it, feeling the texture of paper and the faint scent of ink, and begin to write not for an audience but because the act itself feels like breathing. Each word is a small step into the unknown, a tentative bridge between thought and page. Yet the page remains blank, as if the silence itself has spoken louder than any sentence I could craft.