Tavern of Timelines

Where three dirt roads converged stood a ramshackle tavern that defied explanation. Its wooden sign squeaked in the breeze, half-inscribed with letters from no written language. On a typical night, you might find a farmer or merchant. Then, abruptly, someone stepped through the door clad in armor that seemed centuries old, or decked out in gear that whispered of an uncharted tomorrow. Everyone found a seat beneath the same low rafters, trading rumors like they were everyday gossip.

Between the clink of tankards, fleeting bursts of strange energy crackled near a display case behind the bar. Locals shrugged it off as faulty wiring or illusions from too much ale. But more discerning eyes recognized subtle displacements, bits of technology or relics that should never coexist in the same era. One evening, a newcomer asked the barkeep if this was some Keepers’ lair. The barkeep only smiled, gesturing to the scattered patrons—a hush fell, as if that single question threatened to reveal truths better left unspoken.

And so the tavern continued, bridging epochs without ceremony. A traveler sporting a half-damaged watch sparked curiosity, yet no one pried too deeply. In a dimly lit corner, hush deals were struck for items rumored to bend causality. Outside, in the star-flecked gloom, the roads led back to their proper times. By dawn, those who lingered in mismatched attire vanished, leaving behind only ghost stories. Had it not been for the telltale hum occasionally heard through the floorboards, one might never suspect how close they came to treading the margins of overlapping worlds—and how precarious that union could be.

Micro stories are a content feature offered by $TIME's dev Woj. Handwritten and accompanied by art, they serve to deepen the story world we're creating here. Enjoy!