short fiction · 2026-10-17

The Last Whisper

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the empty hallway after the lights went out, I heard a faint murmur that seemed to rise from the walls themselves, as if the house were breathing. It was not a sound I could locate with my ears, yet it settled in the space behind my thoughts, urging me to listen for words that never left my mouth. Each syllable dissolved into the silence, leaving behind a pattern of what might have been spoken and what remained unsaid. I followed the echo to the kitchen, where the old radio crackled with static, its hiss a reminder that some things linger long after they are gone. When I finally turned off the light, the room felt lighter, as if the lingering whispers had been captured in the shadows.