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 MistThe rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended grey veil that turned the highlands of Caledonia into a landscape of drowned ghosts. Sir Alistair Thorne walked the narrow causeway toward the keep of Dunbar, his boots sinking into the mud with a wet, sucking sound that echoed in the hollow of his chest. He was a man carved from the same stubborn granite as the cliffs behind him, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AsylumThe dream began, as it always did, with the smell of wet slate and the low, thrumming hum of the ventilation shafts. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the Grand Atrium of the St. Jude’s Institute for Cognitive Correction, a place that smelled of antiseptic and old paper, a smell that had seeped into his pores over the last three decades of his tenure. He was not asleep. He was standing...0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ProtocolThe rain had not stopped for three days, nor did it intend to. It fell in a cold, gray sheet against the mud of the ridge, eroding the path that led to the Citadel of St. Jude. My hands, wrapped in the remnants of a leather gauntlet that had once been black but was now the color of dried blood, trembled as I tightened the straps of my pack. I was a man of the Order, a knight sworn to the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant SummerThe air in the bunker tasted of wet concrete and old rust. It was a heavy, metallic scent that coated the back of the throat, a constant reminder that the world above had ceased to exist. Elara sat on a folded cot, her legs crossed, watching a single housefly buzz against the mesh screen of the air vent. The fly was frantic, a tiny speck of chaotic energy in the sterile, gray silence. It bumped...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden QuestThe iron of the pike bit deep into the shoulder of the man in the black tunic, a sound like a wet branch snapping underfoot, and then there was only the smell of copper and the heavy, suffocating silence of the great hall. Sir Thomas Bradshaw did not pull the weapon free. He held it there, the blade trembling in his grip, while the blood ran hot and thick down his forearm, soaking into the worn...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant CrownYou wake in a dream of rust. It is not the rust of old pennies or dried blood. It is the rust of a world that has forgotten how to be new. It eats the edges of your vision. It chokes the air in your lungs. You are standing in a corridor that stretches into infinity. The floor is slick with condensation. The walls are weeping. You are a soldier. You are a guard. You are the law. But here, the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ApartmentThe dream always started with the smell of damp wool and old pipe tobacco. You were standing in the Grand Hall of the Ministry, the high ceilings lost in a haze of grey light. The floor was polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting your own uniform, the brass buttons dull and tarnished. You were a Senior Inspector, though you could not remember for how long. The walls were lined with portraits of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SagaThe seal was broken, not by a crowbar or a blade, but by the sheer, accumulating weight of my own silence. It lay on the table in the center of the room, a circular disc of lead and tin, stamped with the sigil of the Order of the Iron Gate, a symbol that had once meant protection and now felt like a mouth sewn shut. I was a Warden of the Deep Archive, a title that sounded grand to those outside...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden VisitThe rain fell in sheets of grey. It hammered against the tin roof. It drummed a dull, relentless rhythm. Elias sat on the edge of the bed. His wrists were bound. The rope was rough. It bit into the skin. He looked at the window. The glass was fogged. Beyond it, the world was dissolving. The mist swallowed the hills. It ate the trees. It erased the road. He was a prisoner. Not of a cell. Of a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek