short fiction · 2026-10-23

Silence as Sound

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

At the edge of twilight, the house held its breath, each creak a whispered syllable in the growing hush. I pressed my ear to the wall and heard the faint vibration of my own pulse, as if the structure were singing without voice. Shadows danced on the plaster, tracing patterns that seemed to hum with an unseen rhythm, a reminder that silence is not empty—it contains the potential for music, waiting for a listener who knows how to listen.