-
202 Publicações
-
0 fotos
-
0 Vídeos
-
Female
-
01/02/1970
-
Seguido por 0 pessoas
Atualizações Recentes
-
The Gothic Hunger(V-12: Gothic Style) Lord Alistair lived in a house that breathed. The manor, a sprawling gothic monstrosity on the edge of the Yorkshire moors, was filled with the echoes of a lineage that had grown thin and pale over centuries. Alistair was a collector of the occult, a man who spent his fortune on grimoires and artifacts that promised a glimpse into the unseen. He was a man of profound greed,...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 0 Visualizações 0 AnteriorFaça Login para curtir, compartilhar e comentar!
-
The Architect's Eye*Entry 42: The Asymmetry Protocol* The human psyche is a predictable machine, driven by the primitive tension between effort and reward. Most believe that fairness is a fundamental requirement for stability. I believe that fairness is a boredom-inducing myth. To truly understand the nature of power, one must introduce a systemic, irreducible asymmetry. I have designed the "Symmetry-Void"...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 0 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
Six Hands Between the Signal and the SilenceThe message began its life at fourteen minutes past eleven on the night of the seventh of March, 1962, in a room above a bakery on Bernauer Strasse. The bakery was in the French sector, which meant it was in West Berlin, but the room above it had a window that faced east, and if you stood at that window in the dark you could see the Wall. It had been six months since the Wall went up, and...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 222 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Lighthouse at Blackwater HallTHE LIGHTHOUSE AT BLACKWATER HALL Chapter I The candle blew out on its own, and Arthur Blackwood watched the wisp of smoke curl toward the candlestick ceiling like a prayer that had been answered by someone who did not understand the words. He was seventeen today. Seven days from his eighteenth birthday, according to the old calendar in the hall. Seven days, and the candle would take him, just...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 3 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Broken NodeDebbie OConnor lived in the East End of London in 1985 and her job was keeping things together. She was not paid for it. Nobody paid for keeping things together. It was the work of the invisible the work of women like her mother and her grandmother before her who had held their communities together with tea and tight lips and an ability to know everything that was happening on the street...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 5 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The neon cross above Morrison's Clinic flickered like a dying heartbeat. Jack Morrison stared at it from his chair behind the desk, wondering if he had the energy to change the bulb or if he should just let it go dark.It was 11 PM on a Tuesday in November 1947. The clinic was a converted storefront on East Third Street in Skid Row, downtown Los Angeles. The sign had said "Morrison & Associates" once, but Morrison had dropped the "& Associates" three years ago when the last associate left to join a real hospital in Beverly Hills. Jack had been a medic in Normandy. He had pulled boys out of hedgerows with...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 3 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Absurd Rescue (V-08)In the mid-century haze of Manhattan, where the skyscrapers looked like giant grey tombstones and the people moved like clockwork, lived a man named Arthur. Arthur was a man of profound insignificance, a clerk in a department of records that recorded other records. One afternoon, while walking home through a sudden, illogical fog, Arthur encountered a scene of absolute chaos. A woman was being...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 4 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Silver Root's CurseThe moors of Yorkshire stretched like a wound across the sky, grey and endless. Thomas Blackthorn stood at the edge of the cliff, his thin shirt flapping in the wind, and watched the last light die behind the hills. He was fourteen years old, and he had already learned that the world was not a kind place. Two months earlier, his parents had died of the fever that swept through the village like...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 5 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Iron Larder of Blackmoor HallI arrived at Blackmoor Hall on a Tuesday in November, when the fog had already begun its annual siege of the Yorkshire moors. The estate stood before me like a bone picked clean by crows—walls blackened with damp, windows staring out like hollow eye sockets, the iron gates groaning a greeting that sounded more like a warning. Martha Green met me at the door. She was fifty-five if she was a day,...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 258 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
THE LAST WALLI. The jazz club on 45th Street smelled of whiskey and regret, which Julian Cross found fitting for a Friday night. He sat at a corner table, nursing a bourbon he couldn't taste, listening to a saxophone player who played notes that sounded like apologies. The black SUV pulled up outside at 11:47 p.m. Two men in dark suits entered through the back door. They found Julian at his table, exactly...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 12 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Moving CityLos Angeles, 2047 The numbers on the page didn't add up. Jack Harlow stared at them for a long time, the cigarette burning down to the filter between his fingers, the smoke curling toward the water-stained ceiling of his office like a prayer nobody was listening to. Three hundred thousand. That was the official number of engineers, technicians, and support staff listed as essential personnel...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 8 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Midnight SignalI. The jazz was still playing when Claire McCarthy walked into the underground bar on 52nd Street, though the band had long since switched from Charleston to a slow blues that hung in the smoky air like a question nobody wanted to answer. She was twenty-six, Columbia University journalism school graduate, and three weeks earlier she had been the newest investigative reporter at the New York...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 12 Visualizações 0 Anterior
Mais Stories