Find your next favourite story now
Login

Synesthesia Stories

Write Your Own Story
synesthesia
literary_echoes

The Persistence of Echoes

After a head injury, a musician hears temporal sound layers in her building's stairwell—and discovers the growing discord warns of catastrophic elevator failure.

The stairwell has been composing itself for ninety-three years, and I'm the only one who can hear the symphony. Mrs. Chen's slippers from 4B murmur against the steps in 3/4 time, a soft waltz, bereaved and cautious, that commenced in 1987 when she first moved in. Underneath that melody, the thunderous bass notes, originating from the construction workers' boots, resonate within my bones, dating back to when they renovated...

literary_echoes

The Peace Gardens

When plants become repositories for the unspoken words of the dead, two estranged siblings must listen to their mother's garden to heal a twenty-year rift.

The Peace GardensThe rosemary sounds like static when it's angry—seventeen years of Margaret Chen's voice, crackling with accusations about ungrateful children and wasted piano lessons. I planted it next to the sage three days ago—sage that hums with the same woman's whispered apologies to empty rooms. Now they're doing something I've never heard before. The rosemary's static is softening. The sage's hum is getting strong...

literary_echoes

The Memorist

Inheriting her grandmother's ability to taste memories, she guards a preserved blackberry holding future visions while scientists seek to control what we remember.

My grandmother could taste memories. The first occasion I experienced this was when I was seven years old. We gathered around her kitchen table, with sunlight streaming through the timeworn lace curtains. She scooped up blackberry cobbler with her spoon, brought it to her mouth, and shut her eyes. Her expression changed—not merely with the enjoyment of sugary taste, but with a more profound emotion. "August 1962," she whi...