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 Golden MirrorThe mirror in the attic of the Blackwood estate was not merely a piece of furniture; it was a boundary, a thin membrane separating the visible world from the one that hummed beneath the floorboards. You stood before it, your breath fogging the glass, and watched the fog clear to reveal not your face, but a void. The air in the room was stale, thick with the scent of old dust and the faint,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale AltarThe roof collapses. Dust chokes the air. You are standing. Your feet are planted. The building is dead. You do not run. You stand in the gray haze. This is the Academy. It teaches order. It teaches control. It teaches you how to break a man without breaking yourself. The walls are thick. The floors are cold. You are a Lieutenant. You have served ten years. You are good at your job. You are good...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ShadowsThe bread was dry. It had been dry for three days. Or perhaps it had always been dry, and the air of the library had simply stopped forgiving it. Eleanor sat at the long oak table, the one that smelled of varnish and old dust. She held the slice in her hands. It was not food. It was a test. The loaves in the basket were pale, swollen things, white as bone. They did not rise. They only expanded,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded AtticThe separation begins not with a shout, but with the quiet, terrible weight of a suitcase being zipped shut in the rain. You stand on the porch, your breath misting in the frigid air, watching the taxi pull away. It is a modern departure, efficient and cold, devoid of the romantic tragedy your grandmother once spoke of. You are an ordinary man, a clerk in a mid-level administrative office in a...0 Comments 0 Shares 26 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ClueThe rain in Leeds does not fall; it hangs, a grey curtain drawn tight against the windowpane, blurring the jagged teeth of the skyline into a watercolor smear of slate and iron. I am sitting in the archives of the university, the air thick with the scent of decaying paper and the metallic tang of old dust, and I am trying to read the name of a woman who does not exist, or rather, who exists...0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AsylumYou say it is the hands, don’t you, Margaret? You say that the hands are what remain when the mind dissolves into the ether of our shared delusion, and I nod, because I have no other response to offer to the woman who once held the entirety of the world in her fragile, trembling grip, now that the world has been stripped of its flesh and left only with the bone, for I am here, in this room that...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful PetalThe server room hums. It is a low, vibrating note. It sits in your teeth. You count the LEDs. Blue. Blue. Green. Blue. The air is cold. It tastes of ozone. It tastes of fear. You are Dr. Elias Thorne. You are a man of data. You are a man of logic. You are wrong. The door opens. It is not a door. It is a membrane. It ripples. It is thin. It is grey. You see through it. You see the other side. It...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ShadowsThe ink on the parchment was not merely black; it was a void that swallowed the light of the candle, a heavy, viscous dark that threatened to seep through the vellum and stain the hands of the scribe. Aldric sat in the lower gallery of the Great Hall, his back pressed against the cold stone of the window seat, watching the King. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday; time in the court of...0 Comments 0 Shares 27 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WoundThe feast began with the cracking of antlers and the smell of rendered fat, a thick, cloying scent that hung in the air of the Great Hall like a shroud. It was the Night of Unbinding, the one night each year when the High Wardens of the Iron City laid down their spears and broke bread with the Conquered. Outside, the wind howled through the skeletal ruins of the old world, a sound like a...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek