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 RootThe silence in the valley was not empty; it was full, a heavy, wet thing that pressed against the eardrums like deep water. Elias Thorne walked the single-track road, his boots sinking into the mud that smelled of iron and decay. He was a man who had once measured the world in inches of timber and pounds of wool, but now he measured it in the throbbing ache in his left knee, a joint that had...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded PhotographThe orchid was dead, its petals crumbled into a dry, brown dust that clung to the windowsill of the administrative office like the ash of a forgotten fire, and Elias Thorne sat before it with the heavy, suffocating silence of a man who has just been stripped of his name by the very institution that had sworn to protect him, the air in the room thick with the scent of stale coffee and the faint,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale LetterThe banquet hall of the High City of Aethelgard was not merely a room but a suspended reality, a vast cathedral of marble and starlight where the air itself tasted of ozone and crushed violets, a place where the boundaries between the mortal and the eternal had long since eroded into a fine, glittering dust that settled on the shoulders of those who sat at the endless table. Here, in the heart...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded PhotographThe clock on the wall of the archive room ticks. It is a heavy sound. A wooden heart beating in the dark. You sit at the long oak table. The wood is cold. Your hands are cold. They are old hands. The skin is thin. It is translucent. You can see the blue veins beneath. They look like rivers on a map of a country you no longer remember. You are not supposed to be here. You are supposed to be in...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CampusI woke with the taste of copper on my tongue. The air in the office was stale, thick with the dust of old paper and the faint, sweet rot of decay. It was late. Or perhaps it was early. Time had lost its grip on the room. I sat at the desk, the leather creaking under my weight, and looked at the object before me. It was a compass. Brass, tarnished black with age, its needle frozen in a jagged,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded PortraitThe house breathed. It expanded in the cold nights and contracted in the heat, a vast, organic lung filled with dust and memory. Dr. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the atrium, his fingers tracing the grain of the oak floorboards. He was a man of precise habits and quiet anxieties, a structural engineer who had spent thirty years calculating the load-bearing capacity of bridges and towers....0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded DustThe rain hits the stone like a fist. You are running. The mud sucks at your boots, heavy and cold, trying to drag you down into the earth. You do not look back. You look only forward, at the gate. The gate is open. It is always open. That is the problem. Inside, the house waits. It is a large thing, old as sin. The windows are dark eyes, watching you come. You know the layout. You know the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeThe rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a fine, gray mist that smelled of wet iron and old pavement. Elias Thorne stood at the corner of Ninth and Main, his hand resting lightly on the holster at his hip, though the gun inside was empty. It had been empty for three days, ever since the incident at the precinct where they had stripped him of his badge and his sidearm alike, citing...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden GreenhouseThe air in the basement of St. Jude’s Orphanage smelled of wet wool and the distinct, metallic tang of old brass, a scent that had settled into the very pores of the walls over decades, defying the scrubbing efforts of the nuns and the seasonal deep cleans. It was a place of quiet accumulation, a repository for things that no longer had a use in the upper floors but could not quite be...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek