It burned cold and eternal. Those who stood near it never aged, but forgot what warmth felt like.
By GoldenSpeech3 months ago in Chapters
It stayed low, hiding among mountains. One day, the wind lifted it — and it discovered flight was just another kind of falling.
A poet discovered a word that meant everything and nothing. When he whispered it, speech ended — and understanding began.
The child asked the sun if it ever got tired. That evening, for the first time, it did — and dusk was born.
He wrote one last riddle: “If truth cannot be spoken, can silence lie?” Then he smiled — and never spoke again.
Every door opened to another — until the traveler realized each room was the same.
It rose toward the clouds, carrying the dust of forgotten prayers. Heaven, for once, was speechless.
Those who looked into it saw not their face but their future — and often turned away too soon.
It turned its light toward the mountains. Lost wanderers found their way home, while ships at sea kept drifting.
It hatched, sang a single perfect note, and vanished into echo. That sound still lives in those who heard it.
Unwalked for centuries, it began to imagine footsteps — and from imagination, grass grew.
It ticked irregularly — not with seconds, but with emotions. Those who listened too long aged faster.
