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 Pale VerdictThe building stood. It did not move. It did not blink. It was a slab of gray concrete and glass, rising nine stories into a sky that never seemed to change color. Margaret sat in her desk on the fourth floor. The desk was wood. The chair was metal. The air was still. She had worked there for ten years. Ten years of silence. Ten years of typing. Ten years of looking at the walls. The walls were...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CompassThe fog rolled off the Chesapeake Bay in thick, gray sheets, erasing the line between the water and the sky. Thomas Bradshaw moved through it with the slow, deliberate gait of a man who had learned that speed was a luxury he could no longer afford. He was a Deputy Marshal in name, but in practice, he was a ghost haunting the rusted bones of an industrial town that had died quietly, one factory...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WhispersThe bell tolls not as a signal of time but as a physical weight, a heavy iron fist striking the air and the ground and the very marrow of your bones, and you stand in the center of the Great Hall of St. Jude’s, the dust motes dancing in the shafts of pale, industrial light that filters through the grime-streaked windows, feeling the vibration of the chime resonate in your teeth, your skull,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CampusThe air in the Great Hall of St. Jude’s Preparatory Academy smelled of damp wool, beeswax, and the faint, metallic tang of old stone, a scent that had settled into the lungs of the boys there like a second, heavier atmosphere. It was the evening of the mid-term feast, a ritual of excessive consumption where silver cloches were lifted to reveal mountains of roast mutton and tarts glazed with...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale AltarThe cellar smelled of wet stone and the metallic tang of old pennies. Thomas sat on the cold floor, his back pressed against the rough brickwork, and listened to the silence above. It was a heavy, expectant silence, the kind that gathers in rooms where someone has just left and the air has not yet decided what to do with the absence. He was nine years old, or perhaps ten, time had become a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SongThe fog that settled over the valley of Ashcombe did not roll in from the sea, as one might expect in these parts, but rather seemed to exude from the very pores of the earth, a thick, grey miasma that swallowed the iron railings of the estate and the skeletal branches of the ancient yew trees until the world was reduced to a suffocating, circular intimacy of dampness and silence. I sat alone...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SkylineThe wind that swept across the Moors did not howl; it sighed, a long, ragged exhalation that stripped the color from the heather and left the air tasting of iron and old rain. Elara sat at the edge of the cliff, her knees drawn up to her chest, watching the fog roll in from the sea. She was not human, or at least, not in the way that mattered to the village below. She was a creature of the mist...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AshesThe rain had not stopped for forty days, a relentless, gray sheet that turned the asphalt of the highway into a slick, black mirror reflecting the dead trees of the pine forest. Elias sat in the driver’s seat of his truck, the engine idling with a low, rhythmic thrum that he felt more in his teeth than in his ears, staring at the rearview mirror where the face of a woman who was not quite there...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RuinThe banquet hall smelled of stale wine and ozone. We were many. Too many. The tables stretched into a mist that seemed to have no end, a grey fog that swallowed the light from the chandeliers above. I sat at the far end, my hands steady on the white cloth. My brother, Julian, sat across from me. He did not look at me. He looked at the table. He looked at the plate in front of him. The plate was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek