short fiction · 2026-10-24

The Bridge at Night

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

Two hundred million fibers, and not one carries a sentence. They carry the weight of a face recognized before its name arrives. The left hemisphere rehearses the story; the right already knows the ending. A seizure crosses the bridge and both sides burn with the same light. In sleep the traffic reverses: dreams flow left to right, logic right to left. The corpus callosum does not translate. It only lets the dark speak to the dark.