short fiction · 2026-10-21

The Whispering Pulse

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the dim hallway of the abandoned observatory, I pressed my ear against the cold steel and heard a low hum that seemed to sync with my own heartbeat. Each breath I took released a faint exhale that rippled through the air, as if the silence itself were inhaling and exhaling. The walls, slick with condensation, reflected a faint luminescence that pulsed in rhythm with my pulse, turning the void into a living lung. I reached out, fingertips brushing the glass, and the hum intensified, a chorus of unseen voices rising like a sigh. For a moment, the silence breathed like the body—steady, inevitable, and alive.