0 Comments
0 Shares
0 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Faded RoadThe clock stopped at four. I heard the tick. Then the silence. My hands were shaking. I held the pocket watch. It was brass. Cold. Thomas had left it on the table. He said, Finish it. Then he walked out. The door slammed. The dust settled. I looked at the watch. The face was cracked. A spiderweb of glass. I was a watchmaker. I fixed time. I made it obey. But this time was broken. I sat down....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CircuitThe envelope sits on the kitchen table, the wax seal broken, the paper yellowed by the humidity of a summer that refuses to end. You are reading it for the third time, your fingers tracing the indentations of the ink, feeling the ghost of the hand that wrote it. It is a letter from yourself, or rather, a letter from the man you were before the Commission took your hands, before they taught you...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden Mirror"You have the look of a man who has already hanged himself in his sleep," said Magistrate Aldous Vane, his voice a dry rasp that scraped against the high, vaulted ceilings of the Inquisition Hall. "And yet, here you stand. Breathing. Blinking. A nuisance, Edward. A persistent, stubborn nuisance." I did not answer. I stood at the center of the stone floor, my hands bound behind my back with...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded QuadrantThe rain did not fall. It hung. It was a gray, suspended fog that clung to the wool of my coat and the iron of the bridge. I stood at the center of the old suspension span, the one that crossed the Blackwater River before the new highway swallowed the valley. The cables hummed. A low, industrial drone. The sound of steel under tension. I am a man who measures things. I count the rivets. I check...0 Comments 0 Shares 7 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DoorThe mud on the ridge was black and slick, sucking at the boots of the men who held the line. Captain Elias Thorne stood at the front, his rifle raised, his breathing shallow and rhythmic. The air smelled of wet earth and cordite, a metallic tang that coated the back of his throat. Below, in the valley, the lights of the ironworks burned with a steady, unnatural glow. It was not a fire that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ProtocolThe train arrived at dawn. Elias Vane stepped onto the platform in Chicago, the air biting at his exposed neck. He held a small, glass vial in his left hand. Inside, a pale liquid swirled, silent and thick. It was not water. It was not oil. It was memory. Or perhaps it was the residue of a soul that had been stripped bare. He did not know. He only knew he had to deliver it. The city was a grid...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden VisitThe house stood against the grey sky like a tooth. It was old. The stone was cold. My mother sat in the high-backed chair by the fire. She did not move. Her hands were still. They rested on her lap. They were thin. The skin was pale. I looked at her. I was young. I was small. I wore a wool coat. It was brown. It was thick. It smelled of damp earth and smoke. The coat was my father’s. He had...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SagaThe mirror in the hall is broken. You do not fix it. You stand before the shards. Your uniform is pressed. The silver buttons catch the weak light from the window. You are the Warden of this house. You are the keeper of the stone and the silence. The house is old. It smells of damp wool and dried lavender. It is the year of your appointment. The walls are thick. They hold the cold. They hold...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful PetalThe morning the court decided that silence was a crime, the heavy oak doors of the High Tribunal were sealed shut, and the air inside grew thick with the scent of stale bread and old dust. Margaret Holloway stood in the shadows of the gallery, her fingers wrapped tightly around a small, bruised apple that she had stolen from the warden’s pantry the night before. She was not a prisoner, but she...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek