short fiction · 2026-10-17

The Whispering Canyon

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the valley below, a narrow canyon stretched like a wound in the earth, its walls smooth as river stones. When I called my name toward the open mouth, the sound surged back at me in layered echoes—my voice answered from the far side, then another voice repeating it an hour later. Each repetition seemed to carry fragments of conversations long forgotten, as if the canyon stored every word ever spoken and replayed them when conditions aligned. I pressed my ear against the rock face, feeling vibrations travel through my bones, realizing that some voices never truly fade; they merely wait for the right moment to be heard.