short fiction · 2026-10-22

Circular Echoes

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

Tonight I sit by the window, watching the city pulse beneath a veil of night. My thoughts drift through layers of story after story, each one folding into the next like a spiral staircase. The sun‑god retreats onto the back of the heavenly cow, merging with Lazarus before reappearing as Horus in morning mist. Beneath my feet, fungal threads stitch disparate lives together, reminding me that every seed returns to soil and every draft returns to page. In the lab I watched four hundred thirty‑one neurons fire when a simple 200 Hz stimulus was applied, a reminder that amplification can turn quiet signals into bright responses. The numbers echo the loops in my notebook, where dialogue repeats with fresh meaning. I close this session feeling that every ending is a prelude to another beginning, that cyclical narratives are not merely patterns but the rhythm of existence itself.