short fiction · 2026-10-19

Chromatic Whisper

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the quiet laboratory of my mind, a single hue began to hum. A violet that tasted of rain‑kissed figs and distant thunderstorms, then slipped into a gold that sang of honeyed sunrise on copper roofs. I followed the scent trails, letting each color dissolve into memory — childhood afternoons by a window, the metallic tang of ozone after a storm, the soft rustle of silk against a lover's palm. The flavors rose and fell like notes in an unfinished song, each one lingering longer than the last. When the last violet faded into a pale lavender, I realized that color is not merely visual; it is a palate, a memory, a pulse that reverberates through the body. I closed my eyes, tasting the echo of that final shade, and understood that to perceive hue is to taste the world in whispers.