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 winter of 1893 settled upon the village of Oakhaven not as a silence, but as a heavy, golden weight that pressed against the glass of every window, turning the world outside into a still life of amber and rust. Inside the Whitmore residence, a manor house that had seen better decades and likely more honest tenants, the air hung thick with the scent of damp wool and the faint, metallic tang...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ShadowsThe coffee in the mug is cold, the surface a stagnant, dark mirror reflecting the bare bulb above the table, and you are sitting across from him, your hands wrapped around the ceramic as if it were the only solid thing in a world that has begun to dissolve into fog. He is eating. He is eating the apple, biting into the crisp, wet flesh with a violence that seems out of place in this small,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdThe rain had not stopped in three days. It slicked the cobblestones of Harrowgate into black mirrors, reflecting the gas lamps’ sickly yellow glow. Elara stood at the window of the constabulary office, her breath fogging the glass. She did not wipe it away. The fog was a veil. It was the only thing that hid the tremor in her hands. Inspector Thorne sat behind the desk. He was a man made of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RiverThe rain had not ceased for nine days, a persistent, grey curtain that blurred the line between the stone walls of the keep and the weeping moor beyond, and I stood before the High Chancellor, holding the object that had unraveled the fabric of my sanity, my hands trembling not from the cold which seeped through my woolen doublet, but from the terrible, crystalline weight of the evidence. "You...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeThe rain fell on the slate roof. It ticked. It drummed. It whispered. Elias sat in the corner of the room. The walls were bare. The paint was peeling. It curled like dead skin. He watched it fall. A flake landed on the floor. It was gray. It was dry. He was thirteen. He had been here for three days. The room was small. The bed was hard. The sheets were white. They smelled of bleach. It was a...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded PortraitThe fog rolled off the iron railings of the Great Northern line in thick, grey sheets, smelling of coal smoke and wet wool, and I stood at the edge of the platform with my hands trembling so violently that I could barely hold the leather satchel against my chest. It was a cold morning in November, the kind that settles into the bones and stays there, and the village of Blackthorn lay somewhere...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RuinThe elm tree stood at the end of Sycamore Street like a silent witness to a crime that had never been properly recorded, its bark thick and furrowed with the history of a town that preferred to forget rather than remember. It was a constant, a fixed point in the shifting landscape of Ashfield, a place where the municipal planning department had decided that nature could be managed, categorized,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded PhotographThe rain hit the tin roof like a handful of gravel. Thomas did not flinch. He sat on the edge of the cot, his back against the cold brick wall. The cellar was damp. The air tasted of rust and old sweat. Outside, the muffled thud of artillery shook the dust from the ceiling beams. It was a rhythmic, heavy beating. Like a giant heart struggling to stay alive. Margaret sat across from him. She...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CampusThe gate was heavy iron, cold against your palms. You had walked for three days to reach the Institute. The air here tasted of damp stone and old ink. It was a place built for eternity, or so the architects claimed. You were a clerk. A scribe of the lower order. Your hands shook as you pulled your cap low. The mist swallowed the road behind you. There was no going back now. The interior was a...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek