He followed it everywhere, knowing it wasn’t alive. When the sun set, he vanished too.
By GoldenSpeech3 months ago in Chapters
Travelers followed it, seeing their futures ripple away. None ever reached the source — it was themselves, reversed.
He wrote in tongues no one could read, yet his verses made people weep — as if recognizing something ancient in themselves.
In one hourglass, grains hung suspended. Those who stared too long forgot whether they were inside or out.
She kept his clocks running after his death, though none told the right time. The hands pointed only toward where he used to stand.
He spent his life trying to measure infinity. At his death, the rain stopped — as if waiting for him to finish.
Those who looked in it saw a loved one lost long ago — but only if that loved one was still remembering them.
One night, the sky went blank. Humans tried to remember constellations by heart. The sky listened, and the stars slowly returned.
Before him, everything was gray. He named red “hunger,” blue “distance,” and green “forgiveness.” The world suddenly made sense — and then stopped being mysterious.
He painted unseen forces — things that held the world down. People said his art made them feel heavier, and more real.
Every sound entered the woods and returned older. When a man called his own name, he answered himself as a stranger.
Every night, a sleeper visited a dream — until one morning, the dream woke first, searching for its dreamer.
