0 Commentarii
0 Distribuiri
1 Views
0 previzualizare
Director
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Vă rugăm să vă autentificați pentru a vă dori, partaja și comenta!
-
The Faded GuestThe house stood at the edge of the moor, a solitary stone sentinel against the gray sky, and within its walls, the air was thick with the scent of dried herbs and the quiet, persistent decay of wood. You lived there with your wife, Elara, a woman whose devotion to you was so absolute, so consuming, that it felt less like love and more like a gravity that held you in place, preventing any drift...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare
-
The Wistful CampusThe rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a fine, grey mist that clung to the stone walls of the keep and seeped into the marrow of your bones. You stood in the courtyard, the wet grass slick beneath your boots, and watched the drop of water trace a slow, deliberate path down the mortar of the ancient tower. It was a path of erosion, tiny and relentless, wearing away the hardness of...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare
-
The Pale ProtocolThe letter is in your hand. It is thin. It smells of dust and dried lavender. You are standing at the edge of the cliff. The wind pulls at your coat. You do not let go. Eleanor. We are leaving. Do not wait. Do not look for the white heron. It is not there. It never was. I am sorry. I am sorry I made you believe you were the keeper of the silence. I am sorry I made you think the years would stop...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare
-
The Wistful WitnessThe rain hits the cobblestones with a sound like breaking bones. You stand on the bridge. Below you, the river is black and still. It holds the city’s reflection, a jagged mouth of stone and iron. You are not afraid. You are only tired. Your name is Thomas. You were a soldier once, in the wars that ended before you were born. Now you are a keeper of the peace. A constable. You wear the blue...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare
-
The Wistful SilenceThe ice had shattered. Not with a crack, but with a sigh. A long, thin exhalation from the center of the frozen lake, spreading outward like a vein breaking under skin. I stood at the edge of the shore, my boots sinking into the slush, watching the water swallow the light. The city of Oakhaven loomed behind me, a huddled mass of stone and shadow. It was a city that did not sleep. It never did....0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare
-
The Distant Affair"Bring it in," Thomas said. His voice was flat. It lacked the warmth of the hearth. The boy set the basket on the table. The bread was dark. It smelled of yeast and ash. Thomas looked at his brother. Edward stood by the door. He was thin. His hands shook. He held a clay bowl in them. The bowl was empty. "Is it clean?" Thomas asked. Edward nodded. He did not speak. He looked at the floor. The...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare
-
The Faded AtticThe rain had not stopped for three days, a steady, gray curtain that blurred the line between the world outside and the cold, damp concrete of the bunker where I spent my nights. The air tasted of wet stone and old rust, a metallic tang that coated the back of my throat and settled into my lungs like fine dust. I sat on the overturned crate that served as my desk, the leather of my uniform...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare
-
The Wistful AsylumThe iron gates of St. Jude’s were locked. I knew this. I had checked the mechanism three times that morning, my fingers cold against the rusted hinges. The wind cut through the valley, a sharp, technical thing, slicing the air into thin, useless ribbons. I stood in the courtyard. The stone was wet. It smelled of lichen and old blood. My name is Elias. I am the warden. Or rather, I was the...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare
-
The Faded AlibiThe hands were gone. Not severed. Not hidden. Simply absent. Where fingers should have been, smooth skin closed like a healed scar. Where palms should have cupped the air, flat, unyielding surfaces met the world. Elias stood in the center of the square. The stone was cold. The rain was fine. It misted over his face, soaking the grey of his hair. He did not blink. He watched the water run down...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare
English
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek