The Twelfth Mural
In a forgotten district where abandoned plazas met crumbling arches, the walls were alive with murals. Each portrayed a distinct epoch: the building of a grand stone citadel, the rise of a steam-driven metropolis, the dawn of a digital cityscape. Local tradition held that eleven murals had been finished over centuries by unnamed artists, each capturing a pivotal turning point for humanity. Now, on a weathered stretch of concrete, a faint outline hinted at a twelfth mural in progress, half-concealed by dust and time.
A traveling Keeper arrived, drawn by rumors that this final painting depicted a catastrophic event yet to come. She traced gentle fingertips over chipped paint, sensing a faint hum from her $TIME watch. The mural’s swirling shapes showed fragments of a city devoured by cracks in reality, as though its entire foundation trembled on the brink of collapse. It struck her that the depiction echoed hidden events the Coalition might be orchestrating—events the public would dismiss as mere fantasy.
Locals noticed the Keeper’s quiet presence. Some asked if she was restoring the artwork. Others cast suspicious glances, muttering about conspiracies. Yet nobody recognized the urgent meaning behind the swirling lines and half-sketched figures. Determined, the Keeper used her watch to glean faint glimpses of the mural’s completion: a city in ruins, survivors standing at the edges, uncertain whether to rebuild or abandon hope. In the partial vision, she even spotted a watch-like device smudged into the final corner, a silent testament to hidden manipulations shaping this fate.
The more she studied, the more the Keeper realized the painting acted like a conduit, bridging present reality and an unformed tomorrow. If it remained unfinished, perhaps the calamity could be averted. Yet leaving it incomplete also risked leaving the world ignorant of looming danger. Torn between preventing a prophecy or letting it warn humankind, she hesitated, watch flickering in her palm.
At midnight, she made her choice. With trembling hands, she added a single stroke of paint to the mural, placing a subtle brush of color that suggested hope amid the wreckage. The watch pulsed, and for a heartbeat, she felt an entire timeline shift, as if the outcome were no longer set in stone. Though no one saw her final addition, by sunrise, rumors whispered of a glimmer of color appearing in the mural’s darkest patch. Sometimes all it takes, she thought, is a moment’s resolve to rewrite despair into possibility.
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!
