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 CircusThe wagon wheels bit into the mud of the King’s Highway, a rhythmic grinding that sounded less like travel and more like the slow chewing of bones, as you sat in the back with your hands wrapped around a clay pot that had been warm since dawn, the heat seeping through your palm and into the marrow of your wrist, a feverish reminder of the broth you had cooked for the men who now looked at you...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TaleThe rain did not fall so much as it insisted, a cold, grey curtain that blurred the line between the sky and the mud-churned earth of the valley where the war had ground to a halt, a place that smelled of wet iron, rotting straw, and the sweet, cloying decay of the apple orchards that had once been the pride of the Holloway estate. Thomas Bradshaw, a man whose face was a map of old scars and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GhostThe rain did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended grey curtain against the floor-to-ceiling glass of the forty-second floor. Elias Thorne stood with his back to the view, his hands clasped behind his head, fingers digging into the scalp in a rhythm that matched the low, thrumming vibration of the server racks in the adjacent room. He was a man composed of right angles and tired eyes, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ShieldThe fire did not start with a spark, but with a sound, a low, guttural groan that rose from the foundation stones of the keep itself. I was standing in the great hall, my hands still stained with the black soot of the forge, when the air turned thick and tasted of ozone and burning hair. The high windows, stained with centuries of grime and smoke, flared with a light that was not sunlight. It...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JokeThe dream always begins with the door. Not a specific door, but the concept of a threshold, rendered in wood so old it has forgotten the grain of its origin. You stand in the hallway of a house that feels less like a residence and more like a vessel for memory. The air is thick, stagnant, smelling of dried lavender and the metallic tang of old iron. You are a clerk, or you were, in the waking...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded QuadrantThe soup is warm. It is the only thing that is warm. You sit in the center of the long oak table, your hands wrapped around a ceramic bowl that smells of thyme and bone broth. Around you, the others eat. They do not speak. They do not look at you. They simply consume. The room is vast, high-ceilinged, and silent. The light comes from candles that do not flicker. The air is still. You are an...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful DinnerThe train hummed. A low, thrumming bass. It vibrated in my teeth. I pressed my forehead against the cold glass. The landscape blurred. Grey fields. Dead trees. The sky was the color of old bruises. I was going to St. Jude’s. The university. My office waited. My chair. My silence. I carried a bag. It was heavy. Inside was a box. Wood. Dark oak. It contained my hands. They were not my hands. Not...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful WitnessThe rain had not stopped for three days when I packed my last crate of timber into the back of the horse-drawn cart, the wet wood smelling of decay and old earth. I was leaving the mill town of Oakhaven, a place that had once been proud of its industry but was now crumbling under the weight of its own obsolete machinery and the quiet, suffocating prejudice of a community that had decided I was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale LetterThe banquet was loud. It was a roar of silverware on porcelain. It was the clatter of heavy boots on stone. It was the wet, thick sound of laughter from a man with a broken nose. The hall was a factory floor. Not a home. Not a church. A place of work. The air smelled of iron dust and stale beer. The lights were yellow and sickly. They buzzed like trapped flies. Leo stood at the edge. He was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek