Eternal Murmur

Once, in the still of absent dawns, a voice sang from the stars, drawing lines across the unseen horizon.

The clock had no permission to tick, but it did. Somewhere beneath the sound of unspooling time, Sara found a treasure of forgotten light. The reflections on the cold ground were not hers, nor were they anyone she remembered. They whispered her name in undertones, shifting not in shadows, but in the shimmer of truth barely touched.

Glassy seas mirrored the sky, zephyr-tinged echoes reaching out like fingers questing for the warmth of memory. Often did Sara pause, ensnared by the laugh of spectres who echoed truths wrapped in silk lies.

Every nameless street she walked carried stories unsung, inscribed in the constellations of cobblestones laid by hands unseen. She wished to speak with those lost souls, but their words curled and danced away from her grasp. It’s time, said one unwritten chapter, but time for what? For nothing, the other replied, for everything passable, the eternal murmur knows.