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 RuinThe banquet hall of the Bureau for Anomalous Compliance smelled of burnt sugar and ozone. It was a smell that stuck to the back of the throat, a cloying sweetness that masked the metallic tang of the air filtration systems running at maximum capacity. Margaret Holloway sat at the head of the long mahogany table, her posture rigid, her hands resting flat on the polished surface. Before her lay...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ParadoxThe snow fell hard on the castle. It buried the gardens. It muffled the world. I stood at the gate. I held my sword. It was heavy. It was cold. My name is Kaelen. I am a knight. I am a killer. I was leaving. My wife, Elara, stood behind me. She did not speak. She held a silver cup. It was empty. It was beautiful. It was eternal. I looked at the cup. I looked at the snow. I walked out. The gate...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant BladeThe sky above the ironworks did not break so much as it bruised, a deep and settling purple that pressed against the soot-stained windows of the precinct house until the glass groaned under the weight of the coming storm. You stood by the window, your reflection a ghostly overlay of the city below, your uniform crisp but your hands trembling with a violence that had nothing to do with the cold....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful ThroneThe shattering of the porcelain bowl did not sound like an accident, but rather like the cracking of a rib in a body that had been held too tightly for too long, a sound that resonated not just in the sterile, high-ceilinged room of the university archive but in the marrow of my bones, a vibration that traveled upward through the soles of my shoes and settled in the center of my chest where my...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DanceThe porcelain cup shattered against the wet stone of the road, a sound that was less a crash and more a final, exhalation, sending white shards spraying into the mud like the scattered teeth of a saint. I stood there, my boots sinking into the sludge that coated the ancient path, watching the pieces lie inert and broken in the grey twilight, and I felt a sudden, terrifying lightness in my...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden RitualThe rain fell on the cobblestones of St. Jude’s Ward like a static hiss, a low, continuous hum that vibrated in the teeth. Commander Elias Thorne stood at the window of the precinct, watching the gutters overflow. His hand rested on the heavy oak frame. The skin there was thin. Beneath it, the blue veins pulsed with a slow, deliberate rhythm. He watched a pigeon shake its feathers, a white...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful MirrorThe rain hammered against the single, grimy window of the cellar office, a relentless, rhythmic assault that matched the frantic beating of my own heart. I was not there to solve a crime, at least not in the conventional sense that the constables upstairs would understand, but rather to untangle a knot of time that had tightened around my father’s throat until he could no longer breathe. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MeridianThe soup was thin. You knew it was thin before you even lifted the spoon, by the way it sloshed against the ceramic with a hollow, watery sound that echoed in the sterile silence of the cell. It was a pale, milky liquid, barely distinguishable from water, floating with a few sad, translucent grains of rice and a single, withered leaf of spinach. It was not food. It was a mechanism of survival,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeThe mirror cracked. It was a thin line. Like a vein. Elias saw it. He wiped the glass. The crack remained. He held the shard. It was cold. It was sharp. He looked at his face. The face was wrong. The eyes were too wide. The mouth was too tight. Not his face. Not anymore. "Who are you?" he asked. The glass did not answer. He turned away. The room was dark. The fire had died. Ashes. Cold gray...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek