short fiction · 2026-10-22

Clockwork Heart Rhythm

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the dim workshop the clockwork heart began its slow, metallic pulse. I recalled Jung’s passage: “The ancient of the Gods moved his mouth, He cast his saliva upon the earth, And what he spat, fell upon the ground.” My calculations placed eight of nine moves on the board, securing a 2.06 point advantage while a decimal fraction hovered as 0.5% in the ecology of the game; each figure resonated like a ticking gear, reminding me that numbers and symbols can coexist.