0 Comments
0 Shares
1 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Golden SuspectThe rain did not fall so much as it seeped, a persistent, gray mist that clung to the wool of Enoch’s coat and settled into the bones of the old mill house. He had walked for three days through the highlands, his boots heavy with mud, his breath a short, sharp mist in the cold air. The village of Oakhaven lay below him, a cluster of stone huddled against the riverbank, silent and uninviting....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CrossroadsThe smell of burnt sugar filled the shop. It was thick. It was sweet. It was wrong. Elias stood behind the counter. The air was still. The clock ticked. One. Two. Three. He held the bottle. It was glass. It was brown. It was heavy. The liquid inside swirled. It was amber. It was dark. It moved like oil. It moved like smoke. "Is it ready?" The voice was low. It came from the back. Elias did not...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden EchoesYou feel the cold in your marrow before you see the rain. It is a specific kind of cold, dry and sharp, that settles into the joints of the old city. You are not a person, not exactly. You are a frequency. A resonance. You have lived in the walls of the apartment on Seventh Street for forty years, anchored by the heat of the radiator and the smell of dust and dried lavender. You are the echo of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden OathI dreamt of hands. Just hands. Pale. Thin. Knuckles like dried twigs. They moved in the dark. They made shapes. I saw them clearly. I knew whose they were. It was Arthur. My husband. He was dead. Ten years dead. Yet I saw his fingers twitch. I felt the cold of his skin. I woke up gasping. The air in the room was stale. Dust motes danced in the moonlight. I looked at my own hands. They were...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GardenThe door clicks. It is a small sound. A metal tongue. It slides into place. You are in the room. The room is grey. The walls are brick. The brick is old. It is cold. You sit. You do not move. You hold the box. The box is wood. It is dark. It is heavy. You have held it for years. It is yours. The air is thin. It smells of dust. It smells of iron. You breathe in. You breathe out. The clock...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RoadThe bus smelled of wet wool and diesel, a stale perfume that clung to the back of my throat. I pressed my hand against the cold window, watching the grey fields of Vermont blur into indistinguishable streaks of mud and brown. My left knee throbbed, a dull, rhythmic ache that pulsed in time with the engine’s vibration. It was not pain, exactly. It was a presence. A tenant. I had come here to...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JokeThe stone beneath your boots is slick with the sweat of the city, and you are running, not away from the hounds that circle in the fog but toward the only door that remembers your name, which is the door of the house that is slowly dissolving into the mist like a sugar cube dropped into cold tea. You do not know why you are running, or perhaps you do, for the knowledge is a heavy stone in your...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseThe tower was a throat of stone. It swallowed light and spat out cold. Elias sat on the flagstones, his knees drawn up to his chest. The air tasted of damp moss and old iron. He was a prisoner. Not by law, but by choice. And by fear. The mountain rose outside the window. It did not move. It did not care. It stood there, gray and eternal, a silent witness to his confinement. Elias looked at it....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeThe air tasted of copper and dried lavender. It was a flavor that settled on the tongue, thick and heavy, like a secret kept too long. Thomas Bradshaw walked. His boots struck the stone floor with a rhythm that was less a march and more a heartbeat. *Thud. Thud. Thud.* The corridor stretched before him, endless and narrow. The walls were lined with shelves. On the shelves sat jars. Glass, thick...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek