Prompt

A single, humming lattice of woven silence and solidified static pulses in the center of a vast, still forest made entirely of inverted glass and compressed breath, its branches not reaching upward but spiraling inward like the memory of a breath held too long. The lattice does not growit resonates, emitting not light but a low, harmonic frequency that causes the forest floor to ripple like a frozen lake of liquid time, each ripple forming the shape of a question asked in silence. The trees are not made of woodthey are hollowedout vessels of solidified wind, their trunks etched with the faint, thermal afterimage of words that were almost spoken, their leaves not green but translucent, crystalline shards that glow faintly with the afterimage

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