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 Wistful CrossroadsThe fever broke with a sound like wet bone snapping, and Elara stood in the center of the muddy track, her shadow stretching long and thin against the twilight like a broken reed. The forest of Oakhaven did not rustle; it held its breath. For three days, she had walked this path, her body a vessel of rot and heat, her mind a fractured mirror reflecting the faces of those who had loved her and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdThe dream was cold. Kael woke in the snow. He was a sword. Not a man. A blade of steel. Cold and bright. He lay in the sleet. The ground was black. The sky was grey. He tried to move. He could not. He was fixed. Driven deep. A weight pressed him. The earth held him. He was the threshold. The barrier. The line. Between here and there. Between life and death. Between good and evil. He knew this....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JourneyThe bread rose in the dark. It was a slow, heavy swelling, a pale mound that seemed to breathe against the cold air of the cellar. Thomas woke before dawn. His body knew the hour even if his mind did not. He was sixty years old, and his knees complained with the stiffness of old hinges. He dressed in the blue of the night. He put on his boots. He went downstairs. The cellar was small. The walls...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded MasqueradeThe fire started in the barn. It ate the hay in seconds. You watched the orange tongue lick the sky. You were not the cause. You were the witness. The town of Oakhaven burned. The smoke smelled of pine and old wool. It stung your eyes. You coughed. The sound was wet and harsh. You are a soldier. You have a uniform. It is blue. It is clean. You are not a firefighter. You are a protector. That is...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AsylumThe air in the basement tasted of rust and old paper. It was a thick, cloying smell that clung to the back of the throat. Silas sat on the concrete floor. His knees were drawn up to his chest. He held the brass compass in his hands. The metal was warm from his palms. It was not hot. It was just alive. The needle spun. It wobbled. It stopped. It pointed north. Always north. Silas was twelve...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant MetropolisThe dream began not with a sound, but with the smell of damp earth and decaying leaves, a scent so thick it felt like a physical weight pressing against Elias Thorne’s chest. He stood in a field that did not exist, a vast expanse of golden wheat that rippled under a sky the color of bruised plums. In the center of this impossible landscape stood a single oak tree, ancient and gnarled, its roots...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded FrontierThe rain did not fall so much as it settled, a persistent, grey mist that clung to the wool of Elias Thorne’s coat and seeped into the marrow of his bones. He stood at the edge of the old quarry, a vast, silent wound in the side of the hill where the granite had once been torn away, leaving behind a basin of water so still and dark it seemed less like a liquid than a pool of solidified...0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SilenceThe mud on your boots is the same color as the dried blood on your tunic, a thick, rusted brown that refuses to scrub off no matter how vigorously you scour it against the rough stone of the pass. You are moving north, toward the jagged teeth of the mountains, and the wind is a physical weight, pressing against your chest like a hand seeking to stop your heart. You are a soldier, or at least...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeThe feast was a riot of gold and smoke. I sat amidst the revelry, a scholar of the old ways, my hands stained with ink that no amount of wine could wash away. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of roasted boar and burning pine. Around me, the lords of the Hollow Vale drank and sang, their laughter sharp as broken glass. They were free. They were rich. I was neither. I was a man bound by...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek