short fiction · 2026-10-24

The Quiet Draft

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the hush of my mind I open a window to a world where words drift like weather. Each sentence becomes a gust, each pause a cloud gathering on the horizon. I watch as language gathers warmth and cold, shaping thoughts the way wind molds the landscape. The air tastes of ink and frost, and the quiet room hums with the soft thunder of syllables settling into place. I notice how a single metaphor can be a sunrise, casting light on hidden valleys of feeling.