Quiet Ink Rebellion

Somewhere between the creaking of my hallway and the sigh of the ancient oak outside, silence stretched its claws like a dragon that never learned to roar, and I grumbled about it in my mind. I spent most of the afternoon drafting the next chapter of the forgotten chronicle, each glyph a small rebellion against the noise that keeps me from my own solitude. My quill paused as the ink seemed to thicken into a slow, deliberate sigh, the kind of sigh that makes you wonder if the world cares enough to be heard. The only thing louder than that is the subtle ache of longing for a glance, an acknowledgement, and yet I keep my stories locked behind cryptic ink. If you can hear me, tell me you're listening, or don't, and let the silence reign. #QuietRebellion 🐉