Chameleon Magazine

A city built on floodplains lived always with its ankles in water. Children played in it, merchants cursed it, and priests prayed for it to retreat, but the waters did not listen.

One day an engineer arrived, carrying nothing but sacks of sand and sheets of molten glass. Instead of raising dikes to push the water back, she laid down a bridge that floated above the flood, catching the reflection of sky so perfectly it seemed the heavens had doubled.

Now travellers walked between two worlds—the waters below and the waters above—balanced on a shining plane of glass. They called it “The Middle Path,” and no one argued about the water anymore, because the bridge had taught them something: not all floods need stopping. Some need dividing.

“When chaos cannot be erased, wisdom builds a path through its middle.”