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 Faded RoadThe village of Oakhaven sat in a valley so deep that the fog never fully lifted. It was a place of stone and silence, where the air tasted of wet moss and old iron. In the center of the town stood the Apothecary, a narrow building with a sign that had faded to the color of ash. Inside, behind a counter of dark oak, stood Elias Thorne. Elias was not like the others. His skin was pale as...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful ThroneThe coat hung on the back of the chair. It was wool, heavy and dark, the color of a bruise that would not fade. Margaret stared at it. The buttons were brass, tarnished by sweat and rain. It was her mother’s. Or rather, it was the last thing of her mother’s that remained. The rest had been taken. The house, the name, the right to speak. All of it had been stripped away by the Ministry of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GardenThe loom clacked. It was a dry, wooden sound. Like a knuckle cracking. I sat before it. My hands moved. Thread over thread. I did not look up. The air smelled of wool and damp stone. Outside, the bells rang. Three times. Then silence. I am a weaver. That is all I am. I make tapestries. I make them for the King. They say my work is good. They do not know why. I do not know why. I just make it....0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseThe iron gate groaned against the stone, a sound like a dying lung clearing its throat, as I stood before the High Tribunal of the Ashen Spire, the weight of the Crown’s silence pressing down on my skull with the density of deep water. I was the Keeper of the Archives, a title that implied a stewardship of knowledge but functioned, in the eyes of the Court, as a mark of heresy, for I had...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DoorThe wind did not blow. It pushed. It shoved against the glass of the greenhouse until the panes groaned. "You are late," said the voice. It was not a sound. It was a pressure behind the eyes. Thomas turned. He did not look up. He kept his hands on the wheel. The car was red. It was new. It smelled of plastic and ozone. "Who are you?" he asked. The voice laughed. It sounded like dry leaves...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WhispersThe ash did not fall like snow, which would have been a mercy, but like rusted filings, a fine, gritty powder that coated the tongue with the taste of old pennies and burnt ozone. I stood on the ridge of the Appalachian foothills, my boots sinking into the earth that had been scorched black by the drone strikes three days prior, watching the forest below breathe its final, sulfurous...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful ShowThe carriage groaned against the rhythm of the wheels, a sound like a man clearing his throat before delivering a eulogy, as it carried Elias Thorne through the fog-choked valleys of the Appalachian foothills toward the ironclad estate of Lord Malachi Vane. Elias was a man composed of sharp angles and quiet resignation, a leatherworker whose hands, stained permanently with the tannin of oak...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TaleThe seal cracked. It was a small thing, a hairline fracture in the wax, but I saw it before anyone else did. I stood in the antechamber of the Governor’s residence, my uniform pressed and cold, my hands hidden in my pockets. The air smelled of wet wool and old dust. Outside, the rain lashed against the tall windows, blurring the city into a smear of gray. I was waiting for the summons. Or...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ChronicleThe ink on the ledger was still wet when the mirror cracked. It was a small fracture, a hairline white vein running through the glass like a frozen river, but it was enough to shatter the illusion of order I had spent twenty years cultivating. I stood in the center of the requisition room, my hands steady, my spine rigid. Around me, the shelves groaned under the weight of stamped forms and...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek