Dr. Miriam Ellis had spent her life studying sound—how it moved, how it changed, and how it interacted with the world around us. But her latest experiment was different. She wasn’t just listening to sound waves anymore; she was trying to capture echoes from the past.
Miriam had developed a device capable of detecting sound fragments that had somehow lingered in the fabric of space-time. By amplifying these fragments, she could listen to moments long gone. But as she tuned the device to higher frequencies, she heard something that made her blood run cold: her own voice, echoing back from a time that hadn’t yet happened.
. . .
The soundwaves played over and over, a haunting reminder that time didn’t work the way she had believed. Her voice—older, tired—spoke words she didn’t recognize. “Don’t go. Don’t listen to the echo.”
Miriam’s hands shook as she adjusted the frequency again, trying to pinpoint the origin of the sound. But with each adjustment, the echoes became clearer, louder, and more urgent. Her future self wasn’t just warning her—it was pleading with her. And worse, as the echoes continued, Miriam realized the message wasn’t just for her.
The echoes were calling to something else.
. . .
Suddenly, the air around her grew thick, and she felt a pressure building in the room, as if time itself had started to bend. The lab equipment trembled, and the lights flickered, casting shadows that seemed to move on their own.
“What have I done?” Miriam whispered, but it was too late. She had opened a doorway—a fracture in time—and something was coming through. The echoes grew louder, blending with her own frantic breaths, until she couldn’t tell where the sounds ended and reality began.
And then, in the silence that followed, she heard one last echo: “You can’t stop it.”
