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 FrontierThe air in the Chamber of Whispers did not smell of dust or rot, as one might expect of a room buried beneath the foundations of a kingdom that had ceased to exist three centuries ago, but rather of wet earth and the sharp, metallic tang of ozone. Margaret Holloway sat on a stone bench that had been carved from the living rock of the hillside, her posture rigid, her hands clasped tightly in her...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful WitnessThe iron gate does not close behind you. It never does. In this place, where the air tastes of copper and old ash, doors are suggestions, not barriers, and you have learned to walk through the lattice of shadows as easily as you walk through the fog that chokes the valley. You are the Inquisitor, though the title feels like a coat that has been worn too thin, fraying at the elbows, revealing...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RuinThe house was dying of us, not because we had broken its bones or shattered its glass, but because we had forgotten how to breathe in its rooms, a slow suffocation that settled into the wallpaper like a stain that no amount of scrubbing could lift, and I stood in the hallway with the key in my hand, a key that felt too heavy for my pocket, too cold against my skin, while the clock in the parlor...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant SummerThe orchids were dying. "You have to throw them out, Clara," Julian said, his voice light, almost playful, as if he were commenting on the weather or the price of coffee. He leaned against the doorframe of the study, holding a glass of white wine that caught the late afternoon sun. The liquid trembled slightly, a microscopic earthquake in the crystal. "They are rotting. It is unsanitary. We are...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded GuestThe bell does not ring. It is a sound you remember, not hear, a tolling that exists only in the marrow of your bones. You are standing in the center of the stone hall, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and old iron. The torches on the walls do not flicker; they burn with a steady, sickly green light that casts no shadows, only a flat, grey pallor over everything. You are wearing the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RuinThe rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, grey weeping that turned the cobblestones of the lower city into a slick, treacherous mirror of the sky, and as I stood in the doorway of the Magistrate’s office, holding the heavy iron key that had been pressed into my palm by the dying hand of my father, I felt the weight of the stone walls pressing in on me, not with physical force but...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SongThe banquet hall smelled of roasted duck and stale beer, a cloying mixture that hung heavy in the air of the converted warehouse on the edge of the city. Julian stood by the buffet, holding a paper cup of wine he had not sipped, watching the crowd swirl around him like a slow-motion storm. He was a man who believed in the architecture of logic, in the clean lines of data and the predictable...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseThe stone of the Abbey of St. Jude’s did not merely stand; it breathed, a slow, arthritic inhalation that pulled the damp air from the crypts up through the flagstones and into the lungs of the nuns who slept in the cells above, a rhythm so ancient and so deeply woven into the fabric of their daily existence that to interrupt it would have been akin to severing the artery of the world itself....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale GardenThe rain in the city did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended gray veil that blurred the edges of the brickwork and softened the sharp angles of the streets into a single, dripping smear. Margaret Holloway stood before the mirror in the narrow hallway of her apartment, watching the water bead on the glass, and felt a strange, cold detachment from the body that was staring back at her. She...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek