Random Story :
Sacrifice
Author : Geoff Revere “I’m resigning. That’s it. I’m done!” …
Déjà vu
Author: Kewei Chen
I have been staying in this mountain temple for a long time, long enough that I’ve grown used to its rhythm.
The place feels colder than I remember. Not sharply so, just something you notice before fully awake.
The wooden floor beneath me still holds last night’s cold a little too long.
I usually sit in silence before doing anything. There is nothing here that needs to be rushed.
Time is not reliable in the mountains. It doesn’t stop, but slips out of alignment from time to time.
Most days are the same. Breathing. Sitting. Wind through the wooden beams.
I only notice it when something feels slightly off.
Occasionally, people come. Not many. They don’t stay long.
They pass through carefully, leaving almost nothing behind.
Still, something remains. Not memory—more like a trace.
A few weeks ago, a young man came to the temple.
Tired, but unusually alert. He said he needed somewhere to rest.
So I let him stay.
He sat across from me, trying to be still. But stillness didn’t hold.
Something kept breaking it, like thoughts that never finish.
After a while, he said:
“Have you ever felt like something has already happened?”
I paused. Not memory. Something looser.
He continued:
“Not memory, not a dream. Just a moment that feels familiar when it shouldn’t.”
“As if the world is trying to remind me of something I was never told.”
“What is it reminding you of?”
“I don’t know.”
He didn’t speak again for a long time. The silence stayed longer than the words.
After he left, the temple felt different. Not in sound, but in something harder to name.
As if the space had shifted slightly and never fully returned.
From then on, I noticed things I had always ignored.
Strong emotions—fear, loneliness, sudden surprise—leave residue, not memory.
These residues accumulate across people and time.
They overlap, forming something like a structure. A web without shape.
It doesn’t follow time well. Past and present blur.
They feel like different intensities of the same thing.
Once, during meditation, I saw early humans under a nameless sky.
Firelight, darkness, long silence. Only loneliness.
It felt familiar, not emotionally but structurally.
As if it had happened more than once.
Then I thought: maybe I was inside it, not watching it.
The feeling passed, but not completely.
I cannot return to them. That much is certain.
But this “web” does not seem to belong to time.
Or perhaps it never did.
So I leave a simple thought: it is alright.
But I no longer know if I am the one leaving it, or receiving it.
People talk about déjà vu. A place that feels already lived.
A moment that never happened, but feels remembered.
I once thought it was memory failing. I’m not sure anymore.
Two moments briefly touching. That is all.
The young man said something was trying to “align” with him.
I still think about that.
Maybe nothing approached him. Maybe he was briefly placed inside something that already exists.
Only for an instant.
If so, those under the stars were not alone.
Neither are we.
We are the same process, briefly overlapping across time.
I sat for a while.
But even “before” no longer points to the same thing.