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The Faded FrequencyThe letter was written in ink that had dried to a rust color. Miles sat at the desk. The wood was cold. He held the quill. His hand shook. He looked at the wall. The stone was damp. A single candle burned. The flame was low. It flickered. He remembered the dream. In the dream, he was old. His hair was white. He was not in the tower. He was in a field. The grass was high. The air smelled of...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded AlibiThe ironworks at Blackwood had been silent for three days, a dead lung of rusted steel and shattered glass that wept condensation into the autumn fog. I stood at the edge of the quarry, the ground soft and sucking beneath my boots, feeling the weight of the silence press against my eardrums like deep water. It was not the silence of peace, but the silence of a held breath, of a wound that had...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale ProtocolThe door was locked. Marcus stood in the hallway. The wood was cold. He knocked. No answer. He knocked again. "Mr. Vance?" The silence stretched. It had teeth. "Open up." Still nothing. Marcus looked at the mail. A letter sat in the slot. White paper. Black ink. It was thick. Heavy. He did not pick it up. He pressed his ear to the door. He heard breathing. Slow. Rhythmic. It was not the...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded FrontierThe iron gate of the chateau did not creak when it opened, which was the first thing that felt wrong to Elias, for he had spent the last decade in a world where every hinge screamed its rust and every door groaned under the weight of its own decay, but here the mechanism slid on oil and silence, smooth as a lie, and he stood in the courtyard with his hands still shaking from the cold, holding...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant LegendThe rain fell in sheets. It hammered against the grey stone of the tower. The air was cold. It bit the skin. Thomas stood by the window. He watched the water run down the glass. His uniform was damp. The wool clung to his back. It felt heavy. It felt like a shroud. "Is he here?" asked a voice from the door. It was Elias. He stepped into the room. His boots squeaked on the flagstones. He looked...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful MountainThe glass was cold. I held it in my hand, feeling the condensation weep against my skin. Outside, the fog rolled in from the harbor, thick and grey, swallowing the city whole. Inside the office, the silence was heavy. It pressed against the walls. It pressed against my chest. I looked at the desk. The mahogany was polished to a mirror sheen. It reflected my face. A stranger stared back. Pale...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful AsylumThe bell rings. Not a chime. A scream. You wake on the gravel. Cold. It bites through your thin shirt. The sky is the color of a bruise. Purple. Black. It does not move. You stand. Your knees knock. You are not in a cell. You are in a field. The grass is tall. It whispers. It knows your name. You look down. In your hands, you hold a glass jar. It is old. The glass is thick. Green. It is heavy....0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant AffairThe fog rolled in from the harbor. It smelled of brine and rust. I held the glass vial tight. It was cold. It was my sister’s heart. Or so I believed. The factory loomed above us. A beast of iron and soot. It breathed smoke. The air was thick. We were trapped inside. The walls were stone. The doors were locked. We were the rats in the trap. I was the keeper of the secret. I was the exile in my...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant GhostThe train moved through the landscape with a rhythmic, indifferent persistence, the iron wheels clicking against the steel rails in a pattern that seemed to measure out the remaining seconds of my life in small, metallic ticks. I sat in the corner of the second-class carriage, my hands folded tightly in my lap, knuckles white with a tension that had nothing to do with the cold seeping through...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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