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 Pale PathThe silence in the archive was not an absence of sound, but a presence, a heavy, woolen thing that pressed against the eardrums and settled into the creases of the skin. Elias Thorne sat at the long oak table, his hands resting on a leather-bound ledger that smelled of dust and dried lavender, and he watched the dust motes dance in the single shaft of light that cut through the high, barred...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful MirrorThe rain on the windshield was not falling. It was sticking. Elias Vance pressed his forehead against the cold glass of the cruiser. The wipers moved, but they barely scraped the surface. The droplets held on, defying gravity, defying the simple mechanics of water and rubber. They clung to the pane like wet, heavy eyelids refusing to open. "Pull over," a voice said from the passenger seat....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SkylineYou wake with the taste of iron on your tongue, a metallic ghost that lingers despite the water you have drunk, and you find yourself standing in the doorway of the textile mill, not because you wish to be there, but because the dream has dragged you back to the threshold where your life is measured in shifts and silence. The sky above the town of Ashford is the color of a bruise, a deep,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SongThe train that carried you north had no schedule, or perhaps it moved on a timetable written in a language only the dead could read, rattling over iron bones that stretched endlessly into a fog so thick it seemed to have weight, pressing against the windowpanes like a living thing trying to get in. You sat in the compartment, the velvet seats worn thin to the shape of the bodies that had...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden DowntownThe rain does not wash the town clean; it only makes the mud slicker, a thick, brown paste that clings to the soles of your boots and the hem of your coat. You are walking away from the gate, the one that marks the edge of the high ground where the wealthy live, and toward the lower streets where the air tastes of coal smoke and stale beer. You are leaving because you are tired. You are tired...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseThe rain stopped just as the carriage left. Elias stood on the wet cobblestones. He watched the mud splash. It hit his boots. He did not wipe it. He looked at the tower. It was black against the grey sky. The stone was old. It was worn by centuries of wind and hands. He held his lantern. The glass was cracked. Light leaked out in thin, yellow lines. He was the Inquisitor. He carried a ledger....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded FrontierThe sword bit deep. It found the gap in my ribs. I tasted copper. I tasted rain. “Stay down,” whispered Elias. He was smiling. His teeth were white. They were too white. They looked like bone. He looked at the blade. He looked at me. “Look at it, Thomas,” he said. I looked. The steel was dull. It was black. It was not steel. It was ink. It was writing. Words. Tiny, writhing words. They crawled...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseThe rain did not fall so much as it descended, a grey, relentless curtain that erased the horizon and turned the world into a monochrome blur of stone and shadow, and I stood there, my boots sinking into the mud that clung to the earth like a second skin, feeling the cold seep through the soles and up into my bones with a slowness that was almost painful in its persistence. The air tasted of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CompassThe bell tolls. Seven times. The sound hangs in the air, heavy and wet. You stand by the gate. The iron is cold. It bites into your hand. You let go. The village sleeps. The church looms. It is a dark shape against the stars. You walk toward it. Your boots scrape the stone. You are the keeper. You watch the tower. You have always watched. The wind howls. It sounds like a name. You do not...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek