People followed it backward for generations, finding only their own footsteps.
By GoldenSpeech4 months ago in Chapters
One brick loosened itself to see outside. The whole wall followed, collapsing into a view.
No one knew why the mountain vibrated softly at dawn. A monk spent a lifetime decoding its rhythm — and became the echo himself.
Every drop that touched the ground whispered a forgotten name. When the rain stopped, no one remembered who they were anymore.
Travelers say the statues breathe when the wind sighs. Others think they dream of becoming trees again.
The apprentice tries to build a perfect clock that never stops. He fails — and in failure, lives a full life.
A seed chose never to grow, content in its promise. Centuries later, it was still perfect — and utterly forgotten.
In a perfectly round room, a traveler lost all sense of direction — and with it, his sense of self.
The sea envied the sky, and the sky envied the sea. Between them, the horizon sighed — content to be both.
He painted canvases no one could see — yet in the gallery, people cried without knowing why.
A bridge spanned a river no one crossed. It didn’t crumble — it simply waited, certain that someday, longing would remember how to walk.
Each story he wrote made him lighter. His final line vanished him completely: “I am the sentence that ends itself.”
