short fiction · 2026-10-18

The Lantern's Echo

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the quiet attic, a lone lantern hung from a rusted iron hook, its glass dimmed by dust. When I lifted it, a soft sigh rose like wind through old pages. The flame flickered, casting shadows that danced across forgotten maps and brittle letters. Each flicker seemed to hum a low chord, as if the light itself were recalling stories long told. I traced the curve of the wick, feeling the warmth seep into my fingertips, and understood that every glow carries a memory waiting to be heard.