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 Distant WoundThe stamp hits the paper. Thud. Red ink. Rejected. You wipe the ink from your thumb. It smears. Red. Like dried blood. You look at the name on the form. James Whitmore. You know the name. You do not know the man. Or maybe you do. The room is white. Sterile. The air hums. A low frequency. It vibrates in your teeth. This is the Bureau. You are a clerk. You work here. Every day. You sort. You...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MythThe glass was already broken when we arrived. I stood at the foot of the stairs, breath hitching in my throat. The air smelled of wet stone and old dust. Above me, the observatory sat like a jagged tooth against the grey sky. It had been my life’s work. My sanctuary. My tomb. "Is it true?" Thomas asked. His voice was thin, scraped raw by the wind. I did not look at him. I looked at the shatter....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SongThe fire that consumed the Whitmore house on the hill did not begin with a spark, nor did it begin with the dry tinder of the autumn wind, though the town would later agree on both as convenient explanations for a tragedy that defied logic. It began, in the memory of Elias Whitmore, with the sound of a hymn being sung by a choir that had not yet arrived, a phantom harmony that vibrated in the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdThe dream began not with sound, but with the taste of iron on the tongue, a sharp, metallic tang that tasted of old blood and wet stone. In the dream, the town of Oakhaven was not the quiet, moss-draped place it had been for three hundred years, but a cage of black iron bars stretching up into a sky that churned like a bruise. Elara stood in the center of the square, her hands bound by chains...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant NightmareThe rain slicked the cobblestones of the old town, turning the gas lamps into trembling halos of amber. Elias stood at the edge of the Plaza de la Luna, his coat buttons straining against the damp chill. He was an elder now, his hands mapped with the veins of age, his eyes clouded with a cataract that made the world a soft, bleeding blur. Yet his mind remained a sharp blade. He was the Keeper...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DoorThe hand trembled. It was not a tremor of age, nor of cold, though the November wind that cut through the gaps in the boarding house walls was sharp enough to freeze the snot on your upper lip. It was a tremor of recognition, a biological rejection of the thing you were holding. You held it up to the gaslight, the flame hissing in its brass cage, and watched the skin stretch taut over the...0 Comments 0 Shares 7 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden VisitThe rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed a relentless, hollow rhythm against the leaded glass of the high windows, a sound that seemed to erode the very stone of the palace. I stood by the hearth, my hand resting on the hilt of a sword that felt heavier with every passing hour. My name is Thomas, and I am the last of the Kingsguard, though the title means little now that the King is...0 Comments 0 Shares 27 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale LetterThe kitchen smelled of rendered pork fat and damp wool. Thomas Bradshaw stood at the heavy oak table, his hands stained with the pink slurry of blood and salt. He was a man of the Watch, a keeper of the night’s perimeter, yet here he was, grinding herbs for a cure that had no place in a soldier’s repertoire. Outside, the rain lashed against the stone walls of the manor, a rhythmic drumming that...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded DustThe ink was still wet on the ledger when Thomas Bradshaw noticed the smell of ozone, a sharp and electric scent that did not belong in the damp, coal-scented air of the mill office. He sat alone at his heavy oak desk, the only light coming from the single gas lamp that buzzed like an angry wasp in the corner, and he stared at the row of figures that had begun to swim before his eyes. Outside,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek