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 Wistful SkylineThe heavy wool of the cloak had been woven by hand in the dim, dust-moted workshops of the lower city, a fabric so dense and dark that it seemed to absorb the light of the oil lamps rather than reflect it, a tangible weight that settled upon Elara’s shoulders not merely as a garment but as a physical manifestation of the guilt and silence that had calcified within her chest over the long,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SagaThe rain in Edinburgh did not fall so much as it settled, a persistent gray mist that clung to the wool of coats and the stone of the tenements, turning the air into a wet, heavy substance that filled the lungs of anyone who dared to breathe it deeply. Inspector Arthur Pendelton stood at the window of his office, a room that smelled of stale tobacco and the distinct, metallic tang of old blood...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale AltarThe rain in Oakhaven did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended gray mist that clung to the wool of coats and the hair of dogs, turning the cobblestones into slick, dark mirrors. It was the kind of weather that made people hurry, not from fear of getting wet, but from a sudden, visceral need to be somewhere else, anywhere but in the damp, suffocating stillness of the town square. Thomas...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant BladeThe mirror is cracked. It has been cracked for three days, a spiderweb of fractures radiating from the center, where the glass met the edge of your elbow. You do not fix it. You do not cover it. You stand before it, wearing the white tunic that fits too well, and you watch the shards catch the light of the gas lamps in the hallway. The light does not bend. It breaks. You are not a ghost. You...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded GuestThe wool coat smells of damp earth and old iron. You know this scent before you open your eyes. It is the scent of the cellar where your father kept his tools, and the cellar where he kept his secrets. You are standing in the narrow alley behind the apothecary in Harrowgate. The cobblestones are slick with a rain that has been falling for three days. The year is 1348, or perhaps it is a century...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RiverThe rain did not fall so much as it was exhaled by the sky, a thick, gray fog that clung to the cobblestones of Millhaven and seeped into the marrow of my bones, a cold that no amount of whiskey or wool could quite banish, for it was a cold that had begun inside me years ago, in the silence of the barracks, and had only deepened since I set foot in this cursed, beautiful, rotting place where...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JourneyThe bus smelled of wet wool and stale coffee. It smelled of the institution. Clara sat by the window, her fingers digging into the small, round mirror hanging from her purse strap. The glass was cracked. A spiderweb of fractures ran from the center to the edge. She held it tight. The vibration of the engine made the shards dance. "Mind the gap," the driver called. He didn’t look at her. He...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant MachineThe ink on the parchment was still wet, a dark, bleeding vein against the pale vellum, when Thomas Ashworth realized that the letters had changed. He sat in the high-backed chair by the hearth, the fire dying to a bed of grey embers, and watched the words he had written earlier that afternoon. He had been dictating to no one, his quill scratching a rhythmic, frantic pattern as he attempted to...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden VisitThe bell rang. It did not chime. It screamed. A long, jagged tear in the air that tasted of copper and old blood. I stood in the mud of the courtyard, my boots sinking into the black sludge. The rain was not falling. It was being thrown. Small, sharp stones of water struck my face. I did not flinch. I had learned not to flinch here. "Come in," said the voice. It came from everywhere and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek