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 DanceThe glass broke first. Not the window. The reflection. Mara stood before the mirror in the staff bathroom on the fourth floor. The air smelled of stale tea and industrial lemon. She looked at her face. It was not her face. It was a map of her failures. Lines etched deep around the mouth. A hollowing of the cheeks. The eyes, pale and wet, stared back with a judgment she could feel in her teeth....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeThe mist that rolled off the Blackwater Lake did not merely obscure the path; it consumed it, turning the ancient, moss-slicked stones of the pilgrimage route into a treacherous labyrinth of memory and stone, where the boundary between the waking world and the spectral realm of the Old Kingdom blurred until they were indistinguishable, leaving Sir Alistair Thorne, once the most decorated...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SongYou walk. The road is wet. The air smells of iron and rot. You are cold. The chain on your ankle drags. It leaves a red line in the mud. You look down. You look up. The gate is black. It is tall. It has spikes. You are going in. You are not afraid. You are tired. You have been walking for three days. Your legs hurt. Your mind is loud. You know things. You know too much. This is why you are...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful MirrorThe road was long. The mud was deep. Thomas walked. His boots were heavy. They were caked with the black soil of the valley. He carried a satchel. It was empty. It was heavy. The wind bit. It was cold. The sun was low. It hung like a bruise. He walked toward the Palace. The Palace stood on the hill. It was white. It was stark. It looked like a bone. It looked like a tooth. The stones were...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AtlasThe rain had not stopped for three days, a gray curtain that erased the distinction between the street and the cellar where Elias lived. He sat at the warped wooden table, his fingers stained with the black ink that had eaten into his skin, tracing the same letter over and over. It was a simple glyph, a mark he had invented in his youth to represent the sound of a door closing. Now it was the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded DustThe candle burned low. The wax pooled. It was cold in the cellar. I held the jar. It was heavy. It was warm. I am not what you think. I am not human. I have been here for a long time. The walls are stone. They are old. They are wet. I wait. I was born in the smoke. Or so they say. I have no mother. I have no father. I have only the clay. And the fire. I am a spirit of the hearth. I am the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeThe rain did not stop. It hammered against the slate roof of the apartment building in Chicago, a relentless, gray drumbeat that matched the thudding of Elias Thorne’s heart. He stood by the window, his hands resting on the cold glass. They were large hands, scarred at the knuckles, hands that had once held a rifle and now held only a mug of black coffee that had gone cold hours ago. Below, the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant Affair"You have to leave, Thomas. You have to pack your things and you have to drive out of this town before the sun comes up, because if you stay one more night in that house on Elm Street, the whole world is going to come down on top of you and crush you into the dirt where you belong, so pick up the suitcase, pick up the coat, and for the love of God, get out before they find out what you did." I...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CircuitThe ink in the well is black as the soil of the valley, and it smells of iron and old blood, a scent that has seeped into the pores of my hands and the very fabric of the linen sheets I sleep upon, for I have been writing, and I have been burning, and I have been counting the days since the last of the gold left the ledger, leaving only the hollow ache of a debt that can no longer be paid in...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek