0 Kommentare
0 Geteilt
26 Ansichten
0 Bewertungen
Verzeichnis
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Bitte loggen Sie sich ein, um liken, teilen und zu kommentieren!
-
The Subconscious Case(Style: Hard-boiled Detective) The city was a smudge of neon and rain, and my office smelled like old cigarettes and bad decisions. I'm a Dream-Sleuth. I don't find missing people; I find missing memories. The client was a dame with eyes like frozen lakes and a voice that could melt a lead pipe. She wanted me to find a "Key" hidden in her husband's subconscious. The husband was a high-ranking...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 34 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
The Weight of IfI. Frank Miller was driving west on I-70 from Wichita when the first one happened. He was doing seventy-five, the speed limit, in the right lane, thinking about nothing in particular, which was his usual state on long hauls. Then the world split in two. He was simultaneously driving past the Salina exit and turning into it. In one version of the world, he passed the exit and continued toward...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 45 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
Title: The Aesthetic of DecayThe subterranean sanctuary of Julian Thorne was a masterpiece of Baroque excess, a cathedral of gold leaf, velvet, and obsidian carved directly into the limestone bedrock of the Alps. It was a place where the boundary between art and biology had been intentionally blurred, and where the air smelled of old incense and the sweet, cloying scent of damp earth. Julian had been a curator of the...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 33 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
The First Light of TomorrowThe accident happened at 4:17 in the afternoon, on a Tuesday in November, when the press was running and the city was already thinking about dinner. James Sullivan was sitting at his desk in the Pittsburgh Gazette's proofreading room, a glass of cold coffee within reach and a stack of galley proofs three inches thick. He was twenty-eight years old, an Irish-American son of steelworkers and...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 38 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
The Gilded MemoryArthur lived in the damp, suffocating belly of Blackwood Manor, a place where the soot of the industrial revolution clung to the walls like a parasitic fungus. For ten years, he had been the ghost of the boiler room, a nameless orphan whose only purpose was to ensure the aristocrats upstairs never felt a single chill of the London winter. His world was a symphony of clanking iron and the smell...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 62 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
Title: The Fortress of FearThe Castle of Oakhaven did not stand upon the cliffs of Cornwall; it clung to them, a jagged tooth of granite and obsidian that seemed to grow out of the rock itself. For three centuries, the lineage of Lord Alistair had resided within its walls, but Alistair was the first to treat the castle not as a home, but as a biological filter. Alistair was a man consumed by the "Horror of the...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 21 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
The Echoes of OpulenceJulian entered the Castello di Luna as a humble cleaner, a young man with a penchant for silence and a curiosity for the forgotten. The castle was a masterpiece of Baroque excess, a labyrinth of gold-leafed ceilings and velvet curtains that smelled of ancient dust and dried roses. It was a place where beauty had been preserved in amber, frozen in a state of perpetual, decaying grandeur. In the...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 16 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
The Emerald Apocalypse## Act I: The Urban Eden Julian was the most sought-after landscaper in New York, known for creating "impossible gardens" that defied the laws of botany. His secret was a spatial anchor that allowed him to pull nutrients and growth-rates from a parallel dimension. He began with small projects—a vertical forest in a Tribeca loft, a floating orchid garden over the East River. The city loved him....0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 19 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
The Sanguine Conservatory## Act I: The Mist of Oakhaven The manor of Dr. Alistair stood on the edge of a cliff in the Scottish Highlands, perpetually veiled in a grey, suffocating mist. Alistair was a man of science, but his science had long since crossed the border into madness. In the basement of the manor, he maintained a "Sanguine Conservatory"—a spatial fold where the plants were fed not with water, but with human...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 6 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
English
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek