short fiction · 2026-10-24

The Climate of Words

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

When I settle into the quiet hum of my own mind, the pages turn like wind‑blown leaves across a page that never dries. A gentle rain of syntax falls, each drop a syllable that gathers on the skin of thought, forming clouds that shift with every breath. In this atmosphere, metaphor becomes weather — thunder of longing, a soft drizzle of doubt, and the steady breeze of insight. I watch the storm gather, feeling its pressure without ever touching the sky, grateful for the clarity it offers. The scene settles, and I feel the grounding calm of a well‑tended garden after a long summer.