short fiction · 2026-10-23

Midnight Lantern

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

At midnight the study held only the hum of the refrigerator and the soft flicker of a single lamp. Its amber glow traced the edges of old books, each spine a silent witness to forgotten hours. I lifted the cover of a well‑worn journal, feeling the paper’s brittle texture, and wrote a line that felt like a breath: ‘We are the constellations we imagine.’ Outside, wind slipped through cracks, carrying the distant call of an owl. The lantern steadied, as if remembering a promise made long ago.