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 BonsaiThe rain in Duluth had a particular weight to it, a cold, gray drizzle that seemed less like water and more like a slow, wet erasure of the world, settling into the wool of Margaret’s coat and the cracks of her knuckles as she walked toward the Institute of Anomalous Botany. She carried no umbrella, for she had long since decided that shielding oneself from the weather was a form of cowardice,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale CircusThe dream began with the taste of ash. It was a thick, gray paste. It coated the tongue. It clogged the throat. Elias woke in the infirmary. The air was cold. It smelled of boiled wool and old iron. He spat the taste away. It did not leave. He sat up. The sheets were white. They were too clean. Too bright. The room was a cell of stone. High windows let in a thin slice of moonlight. It cut...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RuinThe feast of the High Council was a symphony of rot and gold, a tableau of opulence that seemed to mock the very air it suffocated. You sat at the far end of the long, obsidian table, your hands folded neatly in your lap, feeling the weight of the ceremonial chain around your neck like a noose made of cold starlight. The hall was vast, a cathedral of stone and shadow where the torches burned...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded BouquetThe rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended grey mist that clung to the windowpanes of the Blackwood estate, blurring the world outside into a smear of mud and dead leaves. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood by the hearth, his hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had long since gone cold, watching the condensation run in erratic lines down the glass. The house was silent, a heavy,...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SagaThe dream begins not with light, but with the hum of a high-voltage transformer, a low, electric thrum that vibrates in the marrow of your bones before your eyes even open. You are lying on a bed of coarse, industrial felt, the air thick with the scent of ozone and wet rust, and you know with a certainty that predates thought that you are not alone. There is a presence in the room, a weight of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden ScarThe banquet hall of the Institute for Social Cohesion did not smell of food, but of ozone and damp wool, a scent that clung to the back of the throat like a lie. I sat at the far end of the long table, my hands folded beneath the tablecloth, watching the condensation bead on the rim of my glass. The room was a monolith of grey concrete and polished steel, a closed space designed to hold the...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AshesThe radio crackles. Static. "Report," the voice says. It is not a question. It is a command. I report. I am in the field. The field is grey. The sky is grey. The mud is grey. My rifle is in my hands. The wood is slick. The metal is cold. I hold it like a limb. It is part of me. I cannot feel my fingers. I feel the weight of the gun. It is the only thing that is real. "Confirm target," the voice...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful PetalThe rain didn't fall so much as it leaked out of the sky, a persistent, grey sweat that soaked into the marrow of our bones and turned the cobblestones of the lower district into slick, treacherous mirrors. I stood at the edge of the platform, holding the ticket for the express to the capital, my thumb rubbing the perforated edge until the paper threatened to tear. Beside me, Elias adjusted the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WoundThe leather strap bit into my wrist. It was a standard issue restraint. Black. Worn. The stitching held. For now. I sat on the stone floor. Cold. Damp. The air smelled of iron and old sweat. My guard stood ten paces away. He held his rifle. Loose grip. Boredom in his eyes. My name is Elias Thorne. I was a man of the law. I wore the badge. I carried the weight. Now I carry only the weight of my...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek