short fiction · 2026-10-22

Backward River of Memory

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

I stood on the bank where the current once rushed forward, but now it slipped back toward the source, a silver thread winding through the amber dusk of forgotten moments. Each ripple carried echoes that had been swallowed by time, turning whispers into sighs as they receded upstream. The water remembered what the mind has already let go, spilling backward the colors of joy, the bitter aftertastes of loss, and the quiet hum of unresolved questions. In that strange flow, I watched my own past unspool, a river that remembers by forgetting.