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197 المنشورات
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0 الصور
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0 الفيديوهات
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Female
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04/10/1965
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متابَع بواسطة 0 أشخاص
التحديثات الأخيرة
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Title: The Echoes of The Last One - Psychological-Deep VersionThis is a simulated Psychological-Deep literary adaptation of 'The Last One'. It explores the themes of isolation and connection through the lens of Psychological-Deep. The wind howled through the concrete corridors, carrying the scent of rust and old secrets. The wind howled through the concrete corridors, carrying the scent of rust and old secrets. The wind howled through the concrete...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 0 مشاهدة 0 معاينةالرجاء تسجيل الدخول , للأعجاب والمشاركة والتعليق على هذا!
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The Black BloodThe mud was black and smelled of copper. My father told me not to use it too much, and I didn't listen. I was twenty-six and confident, and confidence is just stupidity wearing a suit. I mixed the mud with water and certain roots -- goldenseal, echinacea, a few others I'd learned from my grandmother -- and applied it to the wound on Josiah's leg. The wound was six inches long, running from his...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 0 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Scales of Blackmoore HallThe fog pressed against Edmund Ashworth's study window like a living thing, patient and relentless. He sat at his mahogany desk, the gaslight casting long shadows across the legal briefs spread before him. At twenty-eight, he had already earned a reputation as the barrister who could make justice bend to the will of his clients. Railway magnates, colonial enterprises, property developers — they...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 0 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Harlan WingThe magnolias were blooming at Beaumont Plantation, which was to say they were blooming with the particular desperation of flowers that know they are growing in soil that has been fed by too many things that should not have been composted. Scarlett Beaumont stood on the porch of the main house and watched the white petals fall like snow that had forgotten what winter was, and she thought about...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 6 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Gold in the DustThe Sacramento River in 1850 was not a river; it was a highway of mud, and every man on it was running in the same direction: toward gold. Thomas O'Connor ran in that direction slower than most. He was twenty-four, Irish, and had arrived in San Francisco in January with twelve dollars in his pocket and a head full of stories about the California gold fields. By May, he had learned that the...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 5 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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Tom got up anyway.# Rust and Ashes The alarm went off at six. Tom turned it off. He turned it on again. He turned it off again. Outside the window was a gray sky and a gray building and a gray street. It was the kind of morning that made a man want to stay in bed and drink whiskey until noon. Tom got up anyway. His head was pounding. His hands were shaking. The bottle was empty. He had been drinking since...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 7 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Patient from BelowACT I Dr. Henry Blackwood's clinic was on Harley Street, in a building that had been a townhouse before someone with money and no taste turned it into a medical practice. The waiting room smelled of carbolic acid and lavender—two smells that had been mixed together by someone who thought they complemented each other but in fact created an odor that was worse than either alone. Blackwood sat in...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 5 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Patient from BelowACT I Dr. Henry Blackwood's clinic was on Harley Street, in a building that had been a townhouse before someone with money and no taste turned it into a medical practice. The waiting room smelled of carbolic acid and lavender—two smells that had been mixed together by someone who thought they complemented each other but in fact created an odor that was worse than either alone. Blackwood sat in...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 6 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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Sample V-11: The Floral Fold(Style A: Gothic) The Château de Valois was a masterpiece of madness, a sprawling gothic labyrinth of obsidian spires and weeping gargoyles, hidden in the mist-shrouded valleys of the Pyrenees. Julian had come to the manor as a guest of the Count, a man whose obsession with "Higher Geometry" had made him a pariah in the scientific community. "The world is a flat, boring thing, Julian," the...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 5 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Echoes of Lisbon## Variation V-09: Portuguese Saudade Variation The Atlantic wind in 19th-century Lisbon did not just blow; it sighed, a long, melodic lament that carried the scent of salt and the ghosts of a thousand departed ships. Julian Vane was a man of the archives, a collector of "lost voices," whose life was spent transcribing the letters of sailors who had vanished into the horizon. He lived in a...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 9 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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THE MIRROR IN THE BASEMENTACT I: THE WINDOWLESS ROOM Lord Alistair Finch-Worthingham inherited Blackwood Park on a Tuesday in November, which seemed appropriate: Tuesdays were the kind of days on which serious things happened—inheritances, deaths, the slow realization that one's life has been a performance for an audience that stopped watching years ago. The house was exactly as one might expect a country house named...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 13 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Breath AuctionIn the city of Orizon, the sky was a permanent shade of bruised purple, and the only thing more valuable than gold was a "Green Credit." The Ministry of Atmosphere controlled the only functioning scrubbers, and they had turned the act of breathing into a high-stakes financial market. Arthur, a mid-level bureaucrat in the Ministry, spent his days managing the "Breath Ledgers." He didn't see...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 9 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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