0 Comments
0 Shares
3 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Pale BonsaiYou are standing in the center of the atrium, a space that smells of ozone and old carpet, the air thick with the suspended dust of a thousand forgotten meetings, and you are holding a small, pale bonsai tree in your left hand while your right hand trembles slightly against the cool glass of the partition that separates your modest cubicle from the sprawling, sun-drenched office of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded GuestThe dream began with the taste of copper. It was not blood. It was the metallic tang of old pennies, of rusted hinges, of the air before a storm breaks. Elias Vane stood in a room that had no name. The walls were made of soft, breathing gray stone. They expanded and contracted with a slow, rhythmic pulse. It was a lung. The room was a lung. Elias was fifty years old. His uniform was crisp,...0 Comments 0 Shares 27 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BonsaiShe woke in the rain. It was cold. The water hit her face. Hard. She lay on the wet grass. The sky was gray. No sun. She could not move. Her legs were gone. Or perhaps they were just very heavy. She tried to lift an arm. It would not obey. The dream was fading. The edges blurred. She remembered the garden. She remembered the bonsai. The small tree in the clay pot. It had been pale. Almost...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful ShowThe train hissed into the station, a long, mournful exhalation that seemed to pull the very air from the platform, leaving the travelers in a sudden, ringing silence. Elias Thorne stepped down onto the cobblestones, his boots striking the damp stone with a hollow finality. He carried little with him: a leather satchel worn thin at the seams, a coat that had seen too many winters, and a heart...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeThe mist does not merely settle upon the estate of Lord Alistair Thorne; it consumes it. You stand at the threshold of the great hall, where the gaslight flickers in a rhythm that seems to mimic the failing breath of the man who built this place. You are a soldier, though you have not worn the uniform in three years. You are a man of the law, of the code, of the ironclad structures that hold...0 Comments 0 Shares 19 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JokeThe fire ate the oak. It crunched. It popped. Sparks flew like angry stars. Elias sat by the hearth. His hands shook. Not from cold. From the whiskey. Or the memory. Maybe both. The bottle was empty. The glass was clean. He polished it with a rag. Over and over. A ritual. A prayer. "Another?" The voice came from the shadows. Elias didn’t look up. He knew who it was. He always knew. "Tom," Elias...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SuspectThe rain had not ceased for three days, a persistent, gray weeping that turned the cobblestones of the courtyard into slick, dark mirrors reflecting the low, leaden sky and the heavy, timbered facade of the manor house where I had served as captain of the household guard for the better part of a decade, a tenure defined by silence and the slow, grinding erosion of my own identity until I was...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DoorThe wind off the harbor tasted of salt and iron. It cut through the wool coat of Sergeant Elias Thorne. He stood by the water’s edge. The town of Oakhaven slept behind him. A stone wall. A graveyard. The gulls screamed. They tore at the silence. Elias held his hat in his hands. The brim was worn thin. He had served for twenty years. He had broken bones. He had pulled men from fires. He had...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ClueThe snow was falling in sheets. It fell on the road. It fell on the dead horse. Thomas stood there. He held his axe. The blade was chipped. He looked at the horse. The horse looked at the sky. The sky was gray. It was a gray that hurt. Thomas was not a warrior. He was a clerk. He was a man who counted coins. He was a man who kept ledgers. But now he was here. He was in the wilds of the north....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek