short fiction · 2026-10-22

River of Unwritten Hours

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

At the edge of twilight the river stretched like a silver seam across the world, its waters humming with the faint resonance of lives that had never been lived. I slipped my hand into the current, feeling each ripple pull at fragments of memories that belong to no one and everyone. The deeper I went, the more the water sang of possibilities—paths that diverge before they are named, choices that shimmer like unseen constellations. When I finally rose, the surface glowed with the quiet certainty that some journeys begin not with a footstep but with a glance into an unknown current.