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The Abbey of Broken HeartsThe Abbey of Broken Hearts I. The moor stretched before Julian Cavendish like a wound that would never close. Rain fell in sheets, cold enough to numb the fingers within minutes, cold enough to make the very air feel like glass. He had been walking since dawn, three days and nights of walking through mud and bracken and the occasional skeletal birch that seemed to lean away from him as he...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 11 Views 0 Vista previa
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The rain in Babylon didn't wash anything clean. It just made the grime wetter.I stood in the alley behind the Blue Meridian bar and watched a guy in a long coat walk past my door like he owned the place. He didn't see me. Nobody ever saw me until I needed to be seen. That was the deal I'd made with the city—the deal the city had made with itself. You're invisible until you're a problem. The picture was on the third floor. Not a picture in the way people mean—no framed...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 8 Views 0 Vista previa
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The fight ended exactly like the last one. That was the first thing I noticed.My opponent—he was a mountain of a man with a beard like a bramble patch and a sword that weighed more than I did—went down with a crack that I'd come to recognize. Not a fresh crack. A familiar one. The same crack. The same angle of fall. The same spray of dirt that landed on my boots in an identical pattern. I stood over him, breathing hard, my cheap wooden practice sword still raised. Around...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 11 Views 0 Vista previa
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TITLE: The Surrealist Lens - The Green Algae of ManhattanThe city of Manhattan had always been a clockwork nightmare, but in the eyes of The Surrealist Lens, it was something more. David Cohen, the man of margins and floor-plans, found himself staring at a world dissolving into emerald slime. Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 10 Views 0 Vista previa
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The Architect's Ghost(Style B1: New York Realism) From my desk in the outer office, I could see the back of Mr. Sterling's head. He didn't move much; he sat like a statue carved from ice, staring at the blueprints of a city he intended to redesign in his own image. I had been Sterling's secretary for five years. I was the one who filtered the calls, managed the bribes, and scrubbed the blood off the contracts. To...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 9 Views 0 Vista previa
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The Velvet ConfessionThe velvet fog of London in November did not so much surround a person as consume them. It seeped through windowpanes, coated cobblestones in a damp film, and turned the gas lamps into pale, uncertain eyes. Eliza Hart stood at the second-floor window of the Pemberton townhouse on Brook Street, watching the fog roll toward Buckingham Palace as though it had a personal grievance with the Crown....0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 5 Views 0 Vista previa
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TITLE: The Neo-Noir Shadow - The Green Algae of ManhattanThe city of Manhattan had always been a clockwork nightmare, but in the eyes of The Neo-Noir Shadow, it was something more. David Cohen, the man of margins and floor-plans, found himself staring at a world dissolving into emerald slime. Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum Lorum ipsum...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 14 Views 0 Vista previa
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The Empire of FailuresLeo lived in a studio apartment in Brooklyn that smelled of turpentine and old pizza. He was an artist whose only talent was failing spectacularly at everything he attempted. His paintings were chaotic, his sculptures collapsed under their own weight, and his poetry was a series of grammatically incorrect screams. Then, he discovered the "Frequency of the Fallen." Leo found that by humming a...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 7 Views 0 Vista previa
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The Last Summer of 1924Act IThe storm came in from the Long Island sound like something angry and ancient. Elinor Vance stood on the beach in her evening dress, which was now ruined, her hair whipping across her face, her hands clutching a writhing golden shape that was the only thing keeping her from being dragged into the surf.The dog -- enormous, golden, shivering -- had been caught in the undertow. She had seen...0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 7 Views 0 Vista previa
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