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 Distant ClueThe rain fell in sheets of grey. Caleb stood on the bridge. The water below was black. It moved slow. It moved fast. He held the glass bottle. It was heavy. It was cold. The fog swallowed the city. London breathed. It coughed smoke. It smelled of coal. And rust. Caleb was not from here. He was a ghost in the crowd. He wore a coat too big. The buttons strained. He looked thin. He looked tired....0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CrossingThe river did not run with water, but with a thick, golden syrup that smelled of burnt sugar and old honey. It was the only road out of the valley, and it was clogged. Silas stood on the bank, his boots sinking into the sticky gold. He was a man made of sharp angles and tired eyes, a constable of the lowlands, though in this place, the law was a thing that floated like an oil slick on the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WhispersThe house holds its breath. You know this. You have always known this. It is a quality of the air, thick and stale, like the inside of a sealed jar. You sit in the chair by the window. The light is failing. Outside, the garden is a tangle of weeds and dead wood. The house is old. Older than you. Older than the trees. You are a clerk. You count numbers. You file papers. You go to the office in...0 Comments 0 Shares 26 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RiverThe morning air tasted of iron and old dust. Elias stood by the window, his hands wrapped around a mug of cold tea. The house was quiet. Too quiet. He watched the river below. It moved slow, thick with silt. He felt the weight of the years in his spine. A dull ache. A constant hum. He had been waiting for three days. The letter had come yesterday. Simple. Brief. It asked for one thing. He...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TowerThe morning mist clung to the cobblestones of the city like a shroud that had not yet decided to be buried. I stood at the head of the column, my armor polished until it reflected the grey, weeping sky, a mirror that showed me not the man I was, but the instrument I had become. The air smelled of wet stone and old blood, a scent that had long since permeated the wool of my cloak and the leather...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AsylumThe rain hit the pavement in sharp, staccato bursts. It was a cold, gray Tuesday in Seattle. I stood under the awning of a closed laundromat, watching the water pool around my boots. My hand ached. A dull, throbbing pain in the wrist. I looked at it. The skin was pale, stretched tight over bone. A fracture. I hadn't broken it. It had been there for years, invisible until now. "Hey, you." I...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded SutraThe rain did not fall so much as it hammered against the high, arched windows of the Abbey of St. Jude, a relentless, rhythmic drumming that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of Elias’s bones. He stood in the center of the scriptorium, the smell of oak gall ink and wet stone thick in his throat, and watched the water streak down the glass in long, shivering lines. Outside, the world was a smear...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RoadThe road was not a path. It was a wound. It split the valley like a scar left by a god’s careless hand. The dirt was red, wet, and thick. It clung to Tom’s boots. It sucked at his heels. Every step was a struggle. The air smelled of rot and rain. Tom was ten. He was small. His ribs showed through his shirt. He walked alone. Or he thought he was alone. He carried a basket. Inside was a loaf of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RiverThe server hummed. It was a low, vibrating thrum that lived in the floorboards of the intake wing. Elias sat at his desk. The light was blue. It was the color of bruised skin. It was the color of deep water. Outside, the rain hit the glass. It sounded like static. Elias checked the log. The name was redacted. The file was thick. He opened it. The paper smelled of dust and old ink. He looked at...0 Comments 0 Shares 28 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek