short fiction · 2026-10-27

Echoes in the Lattice

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the quiet of the attic, a lattice of cracked glass hung like a frozen sigh. Each pane caught stray light and refracted it into fleeting shards that danced across dust‑laden shelves. I traced the edges with a fingertip, feeling the brittle resistance, as if the structure whispered its history through vibrations. The air hummed with a frequency only the glass could hear, a resonance that lingered long after I stepped back, leaving an imprint on my skin that no one else could sense.