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06/06/1993
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The Trench Rose(V-11: Tragic Romance) The mud of the Somme was not merely earth; it was a hungry, viscous beast that swallowed boots, rifles, and men without a sound. Julian lay in the bottom of the trench, the air thick with the smell of cordite and wet wool. He was twenty-two, but in the reflection of the stagnant rainwater, he saw a man of fifty, his eyes hollowed out by the rhythmic thunder of the...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 1 Views 0 Vista previaPlease log in to like, share and comment!
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The Button on the Sheriff's DeskThe catalyst arrived in the form of a button. It was a small thing—mother-of-pearl, the kind that came off a woman's blouse or a gentleman's waistcoat—and it was sitting on the corner of Sheriff Harlan Devereaux's desk when Clara Whitfield came to interview him on her fourth day in Pointe Coupee. She was not supposed to notice it. She was supposed to be looking at the sheriff's face, which was...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 1 Views 0 Vista previa
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What the Knife RememberedI am a chef's knife. I was forged in Seki, Japan, in 1987, from a billet of VG-10 stainless steel that was heated to 1,040 degrees Celsius and hammered into shape by a man named Takeda who had been making knives for forty-seven years and who died in 2003 without ever knowing where most of his knives ended up. I know this because the steel remembers. The hammering is not forgotten; it is encoded...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 4 Views 0 Vista previa
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The First LightI. They begin with clay. This is the first truth, the one that connects the man kneeling on the riverbank in Mesopotamia in the year five thousand before the birth of a religion that has not yet been born to the woman standing on a platform in the year three thousand after it, looking up at a nebula that is the direct descendant of a cloud of gas and dust that was, in some sense, the same...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 2 Views 0 Vista previa
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The Patient from BelowThe voice started on a Tuesday, in the basement of Dr. Edward Blackwood's clinic in the town of Arkham, Massachusetts. Eddie was fifteen, brilliant and troubled in equal measure, and he had spent the last three years sitting on his father's examination table while his father examined other people's minds. His father was sitting in his armchair, conducting what should have been a routine session...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 4 Views 0 Vista previa
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The Absurd PriceThe city of Orizon was a place where logic went to die. The buildings shifted positions when you weren't looking, and the sky was the color of a bruised plum. For Leo, life was a series of unfortunate events and strange coincidences, until the day he found the 'Exchange.' The Exchange was not a place, but a state of being. Leo discovered that he could acquire any skill or power he desired,...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 6 Views 0 Vista previa
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The Two-Dimensional ElegyThe Beauregard estate sat on a hill that overlooked the Mississippi River, and from the veranda you could see the river bend like a sleeping snake, silver in the moonlight, brown in the afternoon sun, invisible at night when the fog rolled in from the delta and swallowed everything within a hundred yards. Corinne Beauregard had lived on this hill her entire thirty-four years, and she knew every...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 6 Views 0 Vista previa
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The Patient from BelowChapter I: The Braking The letter arrived on a Friday, which in Vienna is the day when everyone pretends the weekend is going to save them from things they should have dealt with on Monday. It was typed on government stationery, in a font that was designed to look friendly but achieved only the effect of a smile that does not reach the eyes. The letter informed me that the Weiss Institute for...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 7 Views 0 Vista previa
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The Midnight OracleBy Z R ZHANG ACT ONE: THE KNOCK The rain had been falling on Los Angeles for three days when the woman knocked on Jack Morane's office door at 11:47 PM on a Tuesday. He knew it was Tuesday because the clock on his desk said so, and he knew it was 11:47 because he had been watching the minutes tick past 11 since ten o'clock, drinking coffee that had gone cold an hour ago and not caring. The door...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 5 Views 0 Vista previa
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ACT IThe Beauregard plantation looked like a dying animal: magnificent once, now skeletal, its ribs of white columns protruding through peeling paint like bone through rotting flesh. Elias Thorne stood at the gate and felt something he hadn't felt since Boston, something that was almost sympathy. He had come south as a Union intelligence officer, armed with maps and coded messages and a conviction...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 5 Views 0 Vista previa
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THE PATIENT FROM BELOWDr. Arthur Voss could not remember how he had arrived at the hospital. This was not, strictly speaking, true. He remembered driving through Vienna on a February evening in 1896, the gas lamps casting amber pools on the wet cobblestones, the carriages bouncing over puddles that reflected the windows of the cafés where men sat drinking brandy and talking about the future of the Balkans. He...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 6 Views 0 Vista previa
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THE SIGNAL FROM LILY BRENNANThe office was on State Street, third floor of a building that smelled of boiled cabbage and old plumbing and the faint, sweet-sour smell of whiskey that seeped up from the bar downstairs. It was a small office—just a desk, a chair, a filing cabinet that stuck when you pulled the second drawer, and a window that looked out over a brick wall so close I could touch it if I leaned far enough out...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 2 Views 0 Vista previa
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