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 Faded PhotographThe air in the attic smelled of dust and dried lavender. It was a scent Elias had not known in twenty years. He stood by the open trapdoor, his breathing shallow. Below, the creak of the floorboards sounded like a warning. He was not supposed to be here. The house was his mother’s. The house was also the place where the war had ended for him, not with a victory, but with a silence that had...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale PathThe wool coat was red. Not the bright, cheerful crimson of a child’s toy, but a deep, arterial shade that seemed to drink the dim gaslight of the factory floor. It hung on the back of a chair in the supervisor’s office, a solitary, bloody accent in a room of gray walls and ticking clocks. Elias saw it often. He saw it when he came to report his hours, when he came to beg for a day’s leave, and...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ExileThe dream was not of flight, but of the heavy, wet dragging of a limb through mud that had the consistency of old lead, and I woke with the taste of iron on my tongue, a metallic tang that coated the back of my throat and seemed to persist even as I lay still in the dark of the room, listening to the rhythmic, industrial thrum of the city outside, a sound that vibrated in the bones of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded BouquetThe velvet ribbon, once the deep, arterial crimson of a fresh wound, had surrendered its pigment to the relentless friction of years, fading into the dull, dusty ochre of dried blood, a textile artifact that Elara held in her hands with the trembling reverence of a surgeon handling a severed limb, the fabric soft and frayed against her fingertips, its structural integrity compromised by the...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale AltarThe gavel hit the wood. It did not clang. It thudded, a dull, wet sound like a ripe melon dropping onto a concrete floor. I stood in the center of the room. The room was my mother’s living room. But it was also the office of the District Administrator. The wallpaper was peeling, revealing layers of yellowed paper beneath the floral print. I could smell the damp. It smelled of old paper and...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant CartographThe ink was dry. Elias held the ledger in his left hand. His right hand hovered, trembling slightly, over the page. The paper was thick. It smelled of iron and old dust. He had been waiting for this moment for three days. The rain tapped against the windowpane of his office in Manchester. It was a steady, rhythmic drumming. The sound of the city beyond was a low hum. The ledger was not just a...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SuspectThe rain fell in sheets. It hammered the iron roof of the gatehouse, a relentless, deafening drumbeat that drowned out the wind. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of wet wool and old stone. Thomas Bradshaw stood by the fire. He was a large man. His shoulders were broad. His hands were rough. They were the hands of a soldier. They were the hands of a jailer. He watched the door. The lock...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CellarThe smell of wet wool and stale tobacco clings to the inside of your lungs, a phantom scent that haunts the sterile, fluorescent-lit air of the interrogation room, a place where time does not pass but pools, thick and viscous, around the ankles of the dead. You are sitting in a chair that is not quite a chair, a metal skeleton wrapped in vinyl that has cracked and peeled over the years, and you...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant CartographThe hall smelled of roasted boar and wet wool. It was a thick, cloying scent, heavy with the breath of forty men who had traveled far from the sea to claim this high, cold stone. I sat at the edge of the long table, my hands wrapped around a cup of ale that had gone warm and bitter. The fire in the hearth roared, a beast trapped behind iron bars, throwing long, dancing shadows against the...0 Comments 0 Shares 6 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek