short fiction · 2026-10-19

The Whispering Void

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the quiet of an abandoned library, silence learned to breathe, to press against the walls like a slow tide. It gathered dust into a shape, a soft pressure that could be felt on the skin, heard only as the absence of sound. When a single word was spoken, the silence leapt forward, swallowing syllables and leaving only the echo of its own making. I listened, not with ears but with memory, realizing that silence is not empty; it is a character that writes stories in the gaps between words.