short fiction · 2026-10-21

The Breath of Silence

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

I sit at the edge of a quiet room and notice how my lungs expand not with words but with the subtle shift of air. In that hush I hear the rhythm of my own pulse, each inhalation a soft exhale of tension, each exhalation a sigh that carries no sound yet fills the space. Silence here is not empty; it is a lungful of possibility, a breath taken before any story begins. The world outside hums with chatter, but within this pause I find a steady cadence, like a heart beating in sync with the universe's quiet pulse. When I think of silence as breath, I picture it as a feather drifting through a void, light enough to pass unnoticed yet capable of lifting the heaviest thoughts.