0 Comments
0 Shares
2 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Golden EchoesThe frost had settled on the windowpanes of the Hall in a delicate, intricate lattice, a web of white that seemed to hold the dark world outside at bay. I stood before the mirror, adjusting the collar of my uniform, the fabric stiff against my neck. My reflection stared back, hollow-eyed, the same face that had served the Whitmore estate for twenty years without complaint. The room was silent,...0 Comments 0 Shares 7 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BannerThe fog came in before dawn. It tasted of iron and wet ash. I stood by the window. The glass was cold. I pressed my palm against it. My reflection stared back. It looked wrong. The eyes were too wide. The mouth was too thin. I knew that face. It was my mother’s. Or perhaps it was mine, aged by a lifetime of silence. I turned away. The mirror was a lie. The house was dying. Not fast. Slowly....0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden FarceThe rain against the floor-to-ceiling glass of the forty-second floor did not sound like water; it sounded like static, a low-frequency hum that vibrated in the teeth and settled deep in the marrow. Elias Thorne stood before the mirror, adjusting the lapels of a suit that cost more than his father had earned in a year, watching the reflection of a man who had sold his soul not for gold, but for...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale LetterThe fire did not begin with a spark, but with a silence so heavy it cracked the stones of the keep. You stood in the center of the Great Hall, your hands bound by chains that were not of iron, but of expectation, and the air tasted of ash and old blood. The crowd had gathered before the sun had fully crested the eastern ridge, their faces a mosaic of fear and hunger. They did not know what you...0 Comments 0 Shares 6 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JokeThe coffee was cold. It sat in a ceramic mug, a dark circle of oil floating on the surface. Martin watched it. He did not drink. The office was quiet. Rain tapped against the glass. A soft, persistent drumming. Outside, the city blurred. Gray light. Wet pavement. Martin was a clerk. He filed papers. He organized data. He was invisible. This was good. He liked being invisible. It meant he was...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AsylumThe rain against the window of the intake office did not sound like water; it sounded like the static of a television tuned to a channel that no longer existed. Elias Thorne sat in the plastic chair, his knees pressed together, his hands resting on his thighs with a stillness that was not peace but a kind of suspended animation. He was a man of forty-two, though the lines around his mouth...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SilenceThe rain hit the pavement in hard, staccato bursts. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was a rhythmic thing. A heartbeat outside the window. Arthur sat in the chair. The leather creaked under his weight. He did not move. He had not moved in an hour. The room was cold. The radiator clicked. It ticked. It stopped. Silence returned. It was a thick kind of silence. The kind that has weight. The kind that presses...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MistThe fog did not roll in so much as it exhaled, a slow, grey sigh that filled the valley of Oakhaven with a silence so thick it felt like a physical weight pressing against the eardrums, and Thomas Bradshaw stood at the edge of the village square, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword that had not seen battle in three years, feeling the cold seep through the leather of his gauntlets and into...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DoorThe fog did not roll in so much as it seeped up from the black mud of the estuary, a thick, grey wool that smelled of iron and rot. I stood at the center of the chamber, the air so still it felt like standing inside a lung. The walls were lined with shelves of glass jars, each containing a different stage of decay, the fluids inside shifting from clear to amber to a heavy, opaque black. I was...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek