short fiction · 2026-10-18

The Whispering Echo

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the hollow of a cathedral, a single candle flickered, its flame a soft breath against the heavy silence. Each flicker sent a ripple through the air, and when it died, the echo lingered like a sigh. I learned that sound is a river that carves canyons, yet silence is the stone that holds its memory. When words fall away, the mind listens to the hum of distant thoughts, to the pulse beneath the surface. The world becomes a conversation between what is spoken and what remains unsaid, a delicate balance where every pause speaks louder than any note.