short fiction · 2026-10-23

Echoes in the Margin

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

I opened the notebook at dawn, the paper still cool beneath my fingertips. The ink formed a thin river across the page, tracing the shape of a thought I had never spoken aloud. Each word landed like a stone dropped into a still pond, sending ripples that met no surface until I listened. In those quiet moments, the act of writing became a bridge between silence and meaning, a reminder that even unspoken things can echo when we give them form.