0 Commentaires
0 Parts
1 Vue
0 Aperçu
Annuaire
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Connectez-vous pour aimer, partager et commenter!
-
The Wistful ThroneThe taste of copper and rainwater was the first thing Sergeant Elias Thorne registered, a metallic tang that coated his tongue and burned the back of his throat, followed closely by the smell of wet wool and the ozone-shock of the electrical discharge that had just split the night air along the ridge of the Appalachian foothills. He stood there, pinned against the bark of a dead hemlock, his...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 1 Vue 0 Aperçu
-
The Wistful SilenceYou dream of hands. They are not your hands. They are smaller, pale, stained with the blue-black ink of the archives. You see them sorting files in a lightless room. The paper rustles like dry leaves. You know these hands. You have seen them on the wrists of the dead. You know the specific curvature of the thumb, the faint scar near the knuckle where a ring once sat. In the dream, the hands...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 1 Vue 0 Aperçu
-
The Pale ShadowsI woke in the chapel of Saint Elmo, the stone floor cold against my cheek, the air thick with the scent of wet limestone and old incense. My head throbbed with a dull, rhythmic pain, a phantom echo of the lecture I had delivered three days prior, a dissection of the structural integrity of medieval fortifications that had left my mind brittle and over-extended. I am a scholar of these things, a...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 1 Vue 0 Aperçu
-
The Wistful ShowThe train did not so much stop at the station of Blackwood Hollow as it seemed to dissolve into the thick, bruised twilight of the industrial valley, a great iron beast exhaling its last, rattling breath before the stillness swallowed it whole. Margaret Holloway stood in the vestibule, her hand resting on the cold, vibrating metal, watching the mist curl around the rusted tracks like the...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 1 Vue 0 Aperçu
-
The Golden GreenhouseThe banquet hall of the Sterling & Vane Industrial Complex smelled of roasted pheasant, expensive cognac, and the metallic tang of ozone that permeated the ventilation shafts. It was a celebration of the new automated loom, a machine that could weave thread with a precision no human hand could match, and the air was thick with the self-satisfaction of men who believed they had solved the...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 1 Vue 0 Aperçu
-
The Faded PhotographThe wall breathed. It was a slow, rhythmic expansion. In and out. In and out. I stood in the center of the room. The air tasted of ozone and old dust. My name is Elias Thorne. I am a builder. I know wood. I know stone. I know how things hold. I know how things fall. I did not know how walls could breathe. I had come to the estate to sell it. The heirs wanted money. They did not want ghosts....0 Commentaires 0 Parts 1 Vue 0 Aperçu
-
The Faded RuinThe iron gates of the Conservatory did not creak. They opened with a hydraulic hiss, silent as a held breath. Elara stood before them. Her hands were shaking. Not from cold. The air inside was sterile. Controlled. It smelled of ozone and crushed lavender. She was small. They all were. The children of the debtors. The unpaid. The forgotten. Inside, the hall was vast. White marble. No seams. No...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 1 Vue 0 Aperçu
-
The Pale DoorThe rain fell in sheets, a grey curtain that blurred the edge of the city. Elias stood on the platform, his breath hitching in the cold air. He held a ticket in his hand, damp and soft. It was the last train out of here. He looked at the man beside him. The stranger wore a coat of charcoal wool, worn thin at the elbows. He did not look up. He stared at the tracks as if they were a wound in the...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 1 Vue 0 Aperçu
-
The Wistful SkylineThe train groaned as it pulled into the station, a sound like a bone cracking under too much weight. I stepped onto the platform, my suitcase heavy with books and the heavier silence of the last six weeks. The air smelled of wet iron and stale tobacco, the scent of transit, of places that exist only to be left behind. I was going to see Arthur. We had agreed that this was the final chance. That...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 1 Vue 0 Aperçu
English
Arabic
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek