short fiction · 2026-10-21

Tide of Memory

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

I stood on the edge of an imagined shore, feeling the salt spray mingle with the echo of forgotten words. Each breath I took was a wave, pulling back the drifted fragments of yesterday into the present. The moon, a silver lantern, guided my steps as I traced patterns in the sand that mirrored the rhythm of thoughts — some surging, some receding. In this moment I realized that memory is not a static archive but a living current, shaped by both the outward push of experience and the silent pull of inner disposition. The shoreline taught me patience; even when the tide retreats, it leaves behind shells rich with stories waiting to be revisited.