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 Pale ShadowsThe iron key was cold in Elias Thorne’s palm, a piece of metal that had outlasted the men who forged it, the kings who commanded it, and the gods who claimed to bless it. It hung from a leather cord that had frayed at the edges, worn thin by years of anxious handling, by the sweat of hands that had trembled before the High Court, by the grit of dust that settled in the valley of Oakhaven. Elias...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ShieldThe shield hung by the hearth. It was old. The wood was black. The paint was gone. Only a ghost of blue remained. It looked like dried blood. It looked like the sky before a storm. It looked like nothing. Thomas stood before it. He was small. His hands were cold. He was twelve. His mother watched him. She did not speak. She held a cup of tea. The steam curled up. It smelled of mint and iron....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WhispersThe train whistle screamed across the valley, a jagged tear in the grey morning sky. It was the sound of departure. It was the sound of the end. I stood on the platform at Harrowgate, the wind biting at my cheeks, and watched the locomotive pull away from the station. The steam curled around the iron rails, a ghostly hand reaching back to touch the world it was leaving behind. I did not look at...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CellarThe feast of the high valley had lasted three days, and on the fourth morning, the air was still thick with the scent of roasted venison, spiced wine, and the heavy, cloying perfume of rose water that the servants had sprinkled over the stone floors to mask the underlying stench of fear and exhaustion. Eldon, the last of the village elders, sat at the far end of the long oak table, his hands...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JourneyThe rain fell like static. It hissed against the copper roof of the Watchtower. Silas stood by the window. His hands were still. They were always still. He held the blade. It was a short thing. Iron and bone. Worn smooth. The edge was gone. It had never been sharp. It was a tool for feeling. Not for cutting. Outside, the city of Oakhaven burned. Not with fire. With light. The gas lamps swirled...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant TempleThe rain had not stopped for three days, a steady, grey curtain that turned the world outside the factory windows into a watercolor smear of mud and rust. Elias Thorne sat at his workbench, the rhythmic clatter of the presses around him sounding less like industry and more like the slow, heavy breathing of a dying beast. He was a man of few words, his hands calloused and stained with the dark...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful PetalThe carriage wheels groaned against the packed earth of the road, a rhythmic, grinding complaint that vibrated up through the soles of my boots and settled, heavy and dull, in my knees. I was old for a man of my station, a fact that the wind outside the window seemed to know better than I did, rattling the shutters of the coach with a persistent, skeletal insistence. Inside, the air was thick...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant LegendThe collapse of the glass atrium at St. Jude’s University was not a sudden shattering but a long, sickening exhalation of reality, a structural groan that pulled the very air out of my lungs and replaced it with the metallic taste of ozone and the sharp, sterile scent of pulverized silica, a moment of suspended doom where the sky, previously a flat and indifferent blue, suddenly became a jagged...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant MachineThe glass was cold. It was heavy. It sat on the desk of the Director, a dark blue square of silence. Arthur held it. His fingers were white. The wood of the desk was oak. It was polished. It reflected the window. Outside, the rain fell. It fell on the city. The city was grey. The sky was grey. The rain was grey. Arthur looked at the glass. He had brought it with him. It was from his home. It...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek