Co-Scribe Co-Scribe
نتائج البحث
عرض كل النتائج
  • انضم إلينا
    تسجيل الدخول
    تسجيل
    البحث
    الوضع المظلم

الدليل

Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends

  • المستخدمون
  • المنشورات
  • الصفحات
  • المجموعات
  • المناسبات
  • المدونات
  • مفاوضاتي
  • وظائف
  • Eleanor Winthrop أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature
    2026-08-17 19:12:44 -
    The Wistful Asylum
    The air in the basement tastes of rust and old paper. You sit in the corner. The chair is hard. The wood has worn smooth where your elbows rest. You have been here for a long time. Or perhaps it has only been an hour. Time is a loose thing down here. It slips through the fingers. You try to hold it. It spills away. You are a clerk. That is who you are. You have always been a clerk. You know...
    0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 1 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
    الرجاء تسجيل الدخول , للأعجاب والمشاركة والتعليق على هذا!
  • Margaret Pemberton أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature
    2026-08-17 19:12:37 -
    The Golden Cellar
    The cellar door was not a door but a mouth, wide and rotting, set into the foundation of the house. It breathed. That was the first thing I told the men, though I had no proof, only the cold draft that smelled of wet earth and old iron. It was a smell I knew, a smell that lived in the back of my throat, familiar as the taste of blood. I had been in the house for three days. The rain had not...
    0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 1 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
    الرجاء تسجيل الدخول , للأعجاب والمشاركة والتعليق على هذا!
  • Beatrice Ellsworth أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature
    2026-08-17 19:13:09 -
    The Wistful Mountain
    The sword in Elias’s hand was a slab of iron, dull and heavy. It bit into the shoulder of the man before him with a sound like a branch snapping under a boot. Blood, dark and thick, sprayed across the white stone of the throne room floor. Elias did not feel triumph. He felt a cold, sharp panic. The man he had just wounded was Sir Julian, his lord, his mentor, the only person in the castle who...
    0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 1 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
    الرجاء تسجيل الدخول , للأعجاب والمشاركة والتعليق على هذا!
  • Catherine Fenwick أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature
    2026-08-17 19:13:01 -
    The Pale Circus
    The dream always began with the smell of ozone and old iron. It was not a pleasant scent, nor was it one that Thomas Ashworth could fully articulate, yet it permeated the very fibers of his soul, a phantom limb of memory in a life that had no such limb. He lay on the floor of the abandoned grain silo, the dust motes dancing in the shaft of pale light that pierced the high, barred window. He was...
    0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 1 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
    الرجاء تسجيل الدخول , للأعجاب والمشاركة والتعليق على هذا!
  • James Fenwick أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature
    2026-08-17 19:12:52 -
    The Wistful Voyage
    The ivy on the north wall of the Abbey had grown thick and heavy, a living tapestry of emerald and bronze that clung to the stone with a tenacity that seemed almost sentient, wrapping itself around the ancient masonry in tight, suffocating coils. Margaret Holloway watched the vines from her cell window, her fingers tracing the rough, cold glass as she felt the familiar, dull ache in her joints,...
    0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 1 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
    الرجاء تسجيل الدخول , للأعجاب والمشاركة والتعليق على هذا!
  • Charlotte Ellsworth أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature
    2026-08-17 19:12:45 -
    The Pale Altar
    The loom shrieked. It was a sound like tearing silk, or perhaps a dying breath, but in the white room, it was simply the sound of work. Elias held the shuttle. His hands were steady. They were always steady. The threads were not cotton. They were not wool. They were veins. They were memories. They were the thin, translucent strands of a life he had agreed to sell, piece by piece, to the Bureau...
    0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 1 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
    الرجاء تسجيل الدخول , للأعجاب والمشاركة والتعليق على هذا!
  • Amelia Thorne أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature
    2026-08-17 19:12:54 -
    The Wistful Silence
    The rain was not falling so much as it was being pressed into the earth, a heavy, grey weight that turned the cobblestones of Harrowgate into slick, dark mirrors. I stood under the awning of the apothecary, my coat soaked through, watching the steam rise from the drain grates in ghostly, curling ribbons. In my hand, I clutched a small, waxed tin, cold and heavy, smelling faintly of lavender and...
    0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 1 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
    الرجاء تسجيل الدخول , للأعجاب والمشاركة والتعليق على هذا!
  • Vivian Fairchild أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature
    2026-08-17 19:12:55 -
    The Faded Guest
    The rain had stopped, but the mud remained. It clung to Thomas’s boots like a guilty conscience, heavy and cold. He walked the narrow lane toward the abbey. The air smelled of wet stone and decay. He was a man of few words and fewer friends. A sinner, the village called him. A prisoner, his soul knew. He carried a small leather satchel. Inside was a letter. It was not a confession. It was a...
    0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 1 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
    الرجاء تسجيل الدخول , للأعجاب والمشاركة والتعليق على هذا!
  • Henry Bradshaw أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature
    2026-08-17 19:12:58 -
    The Faded Chronicle
    The truck stops. Engine dies. Silence. You sit. Hands on the wheel. Cold. You look at the rearview. Empty. He is gone. Not dead. Just gone. Like smoke. Like a lie. You remember the morning. The coffee. Black. Bitter. He sat across from you. Eating toast. Silence. You wanted to speak. Throat tight. Words stuck. He knew. You knew he knew. He stood up. Packed his bag. One bag. Small. Light. He...
    0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 1 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
    الرجاء تسجيل الدخول , للأعجاب والمشاركة والتعليق على هذا!
  • Eleanor Fenwick أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature
    2026-08-17 19:13:20 -
    The Wistful Saga
    The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended mist that smelled of wet iron and crushed sage. Elias stood on the edge of the cliff, his boots caked in the red clay of the valley below, watching the water seep into the cracks of the stone. He was a man built for order, for the rigid geometry of patrol lines and report forms, but here, in the gray haze of the Borderlands, his uniform...
    0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 1 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
    الرجاء تسجيل الدخول , للأعجاب والمشاركة والتعليق على هذا!
  • عرض (246611-246620 من 257638)
  • «
  • السابق
  • 24660
  • 24661
  • 24662
  • 24663
  • 24664
  • التالي
  • »
© 2026 Co-Scribe Arabic
English Arabic French Spanish Portuguese Deutsch Turkish Dutch Italiano Russian Romaian Portuguese (Brazil) Greek
الشروط الخصوصية اتصل بنا Support Center الدليل