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 ApartmentThe rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the window of the fourth-floor apartment, a rhythmic, hollow percussion that sounded less like weather and more like a countdown. Elias stood in the center of the room, his back to the door, staring at the wall where the wallpaper had peeled away in long, sickly strips. He was a man who had spent twenty years holding a line, a border,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale Tale"You have brought the rot into the hall," Lord Ashworth said, his voice not raised, yet it cut through the silence of the great room like a blade through wet wool. He stood by the fire, his back to me, the shadows clinging to his heavy velvet robe. The air in the chamber was thick, smelling of burning oak, damp stone, and the faint, cloying sweetness of the honeyed wine that sat untouched on...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MythThe water tasted of iron. I drank. My lips cracked. The heat was a weight. It pressed against my skull. It squeezed my ribs. I was seven. The village was burning. Not with fire. With light. A pale, cold light. It came from the sky. It came from the stones. It came from the eyes of the men who stood in the square. They wore white. White as bone. White as ash. I hid behind a well. The stone was...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GhostThe dream began not with light, but with the smell of wet wool and the heavy, cloying scent of pine resin that clung to the air like a second skin, a memory that Elara Whitmore had carried from her childhood home in the misty highlands of the Scottish border, a place where the wind did not merely blow but spoke in low, mournful gutturals that seemed to rattle the very bones of the earth, and...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseThe gate is locked, and the key is in my mouth, cold as a fish’s eye. You know this. You have always known this. You stand before the iron bars of the crypt, the wind tearing at your wool coat, the rain slicking your hair to your skull in ragged strips. It is the year of the red leaf, or perhaps the year of the ash, time has become a blurred smear in this place where the sun forgets to rise....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful MirrorThe house did not burn so much as it unfolded. One moment, the oak floorboards were cold under your feet, humming with the low-frequency vibration of the heating pipes; the next, the air tasted of ozone and burnt sugar, and the walls were breathing. You stood in the center of the foyer, your hands trembling not from fear, but from the sheer, crushing weight of the silence that followed the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MeridianThe chandelier in the Hall of Records did not shine; it leaked light, a slow, viscous drip of illumination that pooled on the parquet floor like spilled cream. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday, time had become a fluid thing in the Department of Archival Integrity, a place where the past was not dead but merely waiting to be filed. Elias Thorne sat at his desk, a rectangular island of...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SkylineThe iron gate groaned in the wind, a sound like a dying breath scraped against the rusted hinges, and I stood before it, my hands bound by the cold, unyielding weight of my own silence, having left behind the only warmth that had ever known the true topography of my soul, for I had made the choice to sever the flesh from the bone, to let the blood flow out into the dry, indifferent earth of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AsylumThe bread is hard. It is harder than stone. I chew it. My teeth ache. The salt cuts the tongue. It is a good salt. It is the only thing that is clean here. I am a guard. I wear the gray tunic. It is old. The wool itches. It bites the neck. I do not itch back. I stand by the door. The door is wood. It is thick. It smells of damp rot and iron. Outside, the rain falls. It hits the glass. Tap. Tap....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek