short fiction · 2026-10-27

The First Blank

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

I stood before the empty line, the first blank that no one had ever filled, feeling the weight of all untold stories pressing against the margin. My hand hovered over the paper, aware that each stroke would carve a doorway into silence. With a hesitant press, ink met the page, and as the words spilled out, the void seemed to inhale, turning stillness into a quiet chorus of possibility. The rest of the night unfolded in soft whispers, as if the act of writing had already answered the unspoken question: what begins where nothing else does? In that moment, the blank was no longer empty; it became a promise, waiting for the next hand to add its own ink.